Page 144 of Filthy Elites

“I’m sorry,” I say, blinking under the pain of his fingers. “I didn’t mean it.”

“You did.” He licks his lips, the dark pink of his tongue darting out. “You’re not wrong about me. I have disgusting ideas, but you forget I hold the upper hand.”

Oh, I haven’t forgotten.

The dirt Miller has on me is the kind that can destroy me and everything I’ve worked for. One stupid, drunken night could ruin my life, and Miller Hansen is the one who can set that in motion.

He releases my chin and trails his fingertips down my neck and collarbone. “There’s still time to send that video to Andrea.”

God. The video.

I did everything right in high school; the clubs I joined, how I dressed, who I hung out with, the boy I dated. I had good grades, was captain of the volleyball team and was accepted early action at Whittmore. I held it together for so long, but I fucked up. I let go on graduation night and risked everything.

My parents threw me a party, and I got stupid drunk. After everyone left, only Royer and Miller remained. That’s when I went on a rant about how I really feel about Miss Perfect Andrea. I mocked, laughed, and ridiculed her for what a phony bitch she is. How her nose is crooked, and her boobs are obviously fake. I barely remember doing it, but that doesn’t matter. Miller recorded the whole diatribe, and he’s been blackmailing me ever since.

“What do you want?” I ask him, recoiling from the feel of his touch. “Daddy can get you front row tickets to the playoffs.”

The demands started small, with me getting him weed and some pills, then escalated to tickets at the arena in my father’s box seats. Then on the Fourth of July, he got a DUI, and needed Daddy’s law firm to help him get out of it. I had to do a lot of navigating to keep my parents and Royer from asking why I was doing so many favors for Miller, but the risk was worth it. If I don’t get into Gamma Epsilon, then the entire trajectory of my life changes. Once I’m in, it doesn’t matter. Until then, untiltonight, it’s worth doing whatever Miller wants.

“I’m not interested in tickets,” he says, pushing my hair over my shoulder. “Nice hair color, by the way.”

It’s three shades brighter than my natural color. I’d had my hairdresser strip away the dirty blonde and lightened it to the exact color of Andrea’s at the start of rush. I shrug and slap his hand away.

“Then what do you want?”

“Since we’re in the final hours, I’m raising my demands.”

His hand rests on my shoulder. Miller is touchy. It’s one of the ways he manipulates. Most females turn to mush around him, but I know better. He’s trouble. Dark and dangerous. I’ve seen him use and abuse too many girls. The glint in his eye makes me nervous. It’s predatory.

And from the way he’s looking at me, it’s clear he’s got his prey right where he wants it.

“I’ve been thinking about that pretty little mouth of yours,” he says, words spread out like honey. The warm pad of his thumb brushes across my bottom lip. “And how good it would look wrapped around my cock.”

I jolt back, but his hand keeps me in my spot. “What the fuck? No.”

He shrugs but keeps his grip on me. “It’s up to you, but that’s my price.” With his other hand, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. A few swipes later, he’s got the video queued up and ready to post on ChattySnap. “Get on your knees, Reagan, or this goes out to the entire Whittmore Greek system.”

His demand hits me like a punch in the gut. Miller has always been an ass. Entitled and douchey, but this is beyond what I thought he was capable of.

“Royer is your best friend,” I say, hoping to snap him out of it.

“So? This is about business, not friendship.”

My stomach churns. That’s all he thinks this is? A transaction. But I know better. With Miller, it’s always about power and even more? Humiliation.

“I can’t. If he finds out…”

“If Andrea finds out you’re done, and you and I both know Royer isn’t likely to stick around for a girl that doesn’t get a bid.”

He says it so easily, like it’s not my biggest fear. Not getting a bid, missing my shot at being in a sorority; the friendships, the connections, the exclusivity, but most of all, disappointing and maybe losing Royer.

“Fine,” I say, barely hearing the word come out of my mouth. “Whatever it takes.”

His grin slowly spreads across his handsome face, but all I taste is bitterness. All I see is the face of a devil.

“Get on your knees, Reagan.” His thumb pushes at the button on his jeans.

“Here?” I look toward the door. “They’ll be back any second!Withthe Chancellor.”

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