Page 625 of Filthy Elites

“You fucking bastard!”

“Shhhhh, remember what I said about being nice to me?”

I need to calm down and think. There’s no point losing my head when I don’t know what his game is.

“Imagine what people would think if they ever found out what you did.” He brushes a wayward strand from my face but keeps his fingers on my cheek. “What would they think of your mother?” His smile brightens, and my eyes widen.

Mom.

This could ruin her.

“After what your father did, too,” he adds in a sing-song voice. “And you… you want to go to college and work withchildren. Imagine how this would look. While you might get into college with the sob story that you needed the money—which I don’t think they’d buy given how filthy rich your mother is—there’s not a child on this planet you’d be able to work with if people knew about this.”

My mind freezes along with the rest of my body, and my chest tightens like a vice is clamped around it, squeezing it so hard I’ll never be able to breathe again.

My one mistake could take my dreams from me.

How do I stop it?

“One click of a button, and the press would have a field day with this.”

“Please, don’t do that.” I’m begging. I’m actually begging him.

I hate the weakness in my voice and the frailty in my soul. Both feel foreign to me because neither is who I am.

“Please? Is that you asking me for a favor?” He blinks rapidly.

“What do you want, Chad? How do I stop you from showing the world my filthy secrets? What the fuck do you want?”

His hand slides to my chin, and he lifts it slightly so I can’t look away.

“I want you.”

My lips part. His gaze rivets to mine, and I search his eyes which have an otherworldly appearance in the moonlight.

The silver in his eyes brightens, looking like liquid desire.

I heard him loud and clear. I just can’t believe what he said.

“You want me?” I grate out.

“I want you.”

I recall the other thing he said to me that threw me for a loop—I want to fuck you.

Is that what he means?

Instead of making me feel sick that he might possibly want me to prostitute myself to him to keep his silence, arousal tugs at my core. That’s what makes me feel sick. The fact that I can’t deny that a fucked up twisted part of me wants him too, and I don’t understand why.

“What specifically do you mean?”

That smile comes back to his handsome face, dancing on his lips.

“Meet me after school tomorrow in the parking lot, and I’ll tell you.”

He backs away, then turns and leaves me standing there gazing at him, terror writhing through my being.

What the hell have I got myself into?

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