Page 487 of Filthy Elites

“Go toourroom.” He smiles, his gritted teeth not hidden by the composed front he’s trying to exude.

“No.”

“Little bird, you either go to our room, or you stay locked in your own room until I decide you can come out.”

I glance up at him for a minute, then nod. “I’ll take prison, I’ve become accustomed to loneliness and isolation the last couple of years.”

With a sharp tug, I yank my hair free of his hold, trying to hide the grimace of pain from my expression as I pad out of the kitchen. I manage to walk slowly until I’m out of sight, then I practically sprint out the front door, not caring about my belongings, just needing to be away from here, away from them, him. There’s nothing here that I’m not willing to abandon for my freedom. Reaching the foot gate, I place my key card against the scanner but nothing happens. Snapping my head to the side, I glance around nervously, knowing they’ll be following me soon, but the gate remains closed as I tap my card against it again and again.

“I’ve deactivated your card for the external gates and I’ve turned the motion sensor on the main gates off too,” Sebastian says calmly.

My shoulders slump as I slowly turn around to find him standing at the door, his hands casually placed in his pockets.

“So I’m not going to be allowed to go to class?”

“You can go to class, you’ll just be escorted there and back with either me or one of the guys.”

“Why do you want me so much? Is it the rejection that turns you on?” I ask as I give the gate and my escape one last glance before turning and stomping toward the house.

“I like to own things, now I own you. It doesn’t matter what you think you feel right now, eventually you’ll admit you want me just as much as I want you, until then your cage will just get smaller and smaller until you do as you’re told.”

The smile on his face is bright and warm and in complete contrast with the cold and menacing nature of his words, he’s crazy, completely insane and the next time I run from him, it needs to be much farther away than just Maine.

He doesn’t try to stop me when I barge past him and climb the stairs, not slowing down until I’m in my bedroom. The beautiful room suddenly feels much smaller than it did when I left it less than an hour ago. How in such a short space of time can my world have gone from tentatively hopeful to desolate? Sebastian threatened to lock me in here, but he must be bullshitting me. He’s crazy, but surely he’s not that crazy? Rushing back down the stairs, I pull on the door, but nothing happens, it’s locked. He actually locked me in here.

Panic threatens to overwhelm me again, when my cell beeps with a text, distracting me. Dad hates texts, he says his fingers are too big and that it takes him too long to type out a message he could say in seconds during a phone call, so it’s unlikely that it’s him. It could be Mom, but we really only have a birthday and Christmas kind of relationship these days, I don’t remember the last time she texted me.

Walking slowly back up to my room, I consider calling my dad and telling him about Sebastian, but if I do, he’ll get on a plane and come here and I have no idea what Sebastian will do to him if he does. He’s clearly unhinged and until I can figure out a way to run from him, there’s no point allowing my dad to get within his firing range.

There’s an unread text on my cell and I click into it.

Bastian: Dinner is in twenty minutes.

A hysterical laugh falls from my lips. Of course his number is now saved in my cell. He’s stalked me for the last two years, manipulated my life, orchestrated things so I’m living with him, locked me in my bedroom and now he’s texting me when dinner’s going to be ready, like it’s a normal meal and nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

He’s insane, like certifiably insane and I’m stuck here, being controlled by his whims until I can get away from him. For a moment I wonder if the guys will help me, then laugh as the ridiculousness of that thought hits me. They must have known what he had planned, they must have helped him, or else why would they all be here too? My stepbrother is condoning his friend keeping me prisoner and no one in this house will help me, no matter what he does to me.

Maybe I just need to play along. I’ve run from him before and it didn’t work, apparently it didn’t even dent his desire for me. If anything, me leaving might have made his infatuation more intense. Perhaps if I give him what he wants he’ll get bored. I’m the one that got away, the great white whale and everyone knows that not having something you desire always makes it feel more special and it’s not until you have it that you realize it’s not as good as you thought it was.

Resolved, I decide it’s time to fight fire with fire. He wants his little bird, I’ll give him a fucking flamingo. Stripping out of my clothes, I change my underwear for a pretty matching set my mom sent me as a gift last Christmas, fluff up my hair and coat my lips in sparkly red gloss. I look like a girl ready to get fucked, but this is what he wants, isn’t it? Me willing and ready.

Pulling out my cell, I type out a message.

Me: What are we eating? I’m starving.

His reply is instantaneous.

Bastian: Pasta. I was expecting you to refuse to eat with us.

Me: **Shrugging emoji** Lemons, lemonade, I’m hungry and I hate cooking.

I wait for him to reply, but when nothing comes through, I climb off the bed, walk down the stairs and push at the door. It swings open and I inhale, then force a smile to my lips as I step out onto the landing in nothing but my bra and panties. Not pausing to give myself a moment to run back to the relative safety of my room, I add an extra bit of sway to my hips as I descend the stairs and sashay into the kitchen.

There’s a sharp inhale of breath from someone as I stride into the room, prance over to the table where all of the guys except Clay are sitting, and plop my ass down into Hunter’s lap.

“What the fuck?” Sebastian growls, taking hold of my wrist and dragging me off his friend’s lap.

“Oh something smells good,” I hum, not reacting to the painful hold he has on me, or the horrified look on the other boys’ faces.

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