Page 111 of Filthy Elites

He shrugs. “So?”

“So—ugh, fine!” I snap. “Maybe I’ll just ruin it after all!”

He chuckles as I storm past him and move towards the open doorway he nodded to before. The second I’m out of his laser like gaze, however, I slow down and pause against the wall, reaching up to feel the fast beat of my heart thudding against my ribcage. I’m trembling, I realize. Fine, small shakes. The same kind that I had back at the hospital. Maybe they’d never stopped and I’d just forgotten about them.

I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing myself to suck in a deep breath and then slowly release it.

I’m fine,I tell myself, trying to believe it.I’m going to be just fine.But even as I recollect my thoughts and head down the new hallway, I’m not sure if I believe it.

For such a large apartment, there are surprisingly few rooms. As I move throughout the place, I find what looks like an office, completely devoid of anything except a single bookshelf and a desk with a computer on top of it. After that, I find what can only be the master bedroom. The bed in the center is big enough to fit a good five people.

My face flames as I wonder how many women Viks has had in that bed. I leave the room rather quickly, searching the rest of the place. I find two bathrooms, a hall closet, a laundry room, and … a greenhouse.

A greenhouse … in a fucking high-rise apartment. I step inside, feeling the heat on my skin immediately. Unlike the rest of the place, this room is the only one that has any sort of life in it. From the plants lining the walls to the vines creeping up the glass windows.

It’s there that I find an easel set up above a drop cloth and a rather comfortable looking stool. There’s stone and chisels. Paint. Tools. So much that I know none of it can be mine. Are they from the school? Or did he buy them? I pick up a chisel and turn it over, noting the tag still hanging off of the end. Bought new then. My eyes fixate on the price still on the tag and I nearly vomit on the spot, dropping the chisel back into place.

“I think this will do for your art room, yes?” I jump and whirl as Viks’ voice takes me by surprise.

“This is…” My throat closes up as I shake my head. “This is insane,” I finally say. “You didn’t need to buy all of this.”

He shrugs. “It’s just money.”

Maybe to him, but to me it’s … everything. All of the tools. All of the supplies he’d gotten. They’re top quality. Shit I’ve never even thought of being able to afford. The best quality I can get is what I can afford with my salary at the club and my scholarships.

I change subjects. “A green room?” I prompt. “I’m surprised.”

He shrugs as he stands just inside the door, his arms crossed over his massive chest as he leans against the frame. “I didn’t create it,” he says. “It was here when I moved in.”

“I didn’t think you could have one in an apartment.”

One corner of his mouth tilts up and his eyes seem to fixate on me. “You can have anything you want, Haley,” he says. “You just need to make it happen.”

My mouth dries up.Fuck, how does he do this to me?I look away, re-focusing on the plants and vines across from the easel. “If that’s true, then I want to go to class,” I say.

He releases a sigh. “We talked about this.”

“No. You talked. I didn’t get a choice.” I look back at him. “I’ll stay here,” I say. “I’ll call you and update you on my whereabouts, but please … I don’t want to feel like a prisoner.”

Viks grits his teeth for a moment and then scrubs a hand down his face. “If I let you go to class,” he says. “I’ll be picking you up and dropping you off. You keep your phone on you at all times. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of class, I call you—you fucking answer.”

A burst of relief rushes through me. “Yes, of course.” I nod exuberantly. “Does that mean I can go?”

He stands there—still as stone. I can tell he wants to say no. It’s there in the hardness of his jaw, the flash of something sinister in his gaze. Maybe he realizes it, though, that if he truly tries to lock me away, I’ll only try to escape him because finally, after what feels like an eternity, he nods his acquiescence.

“Thank you,” I say the words and I mean them. A man like Viks doesn’t cave for just anyone. His gaze meets mine and his lips curve ever so slightly. Heat rises to my cheeks and I turn away, changing the subject quickly. “So, I … uh … only found one bedroom,” I stutter out. “Where do I sleep?”

“In the bedroom,” he says.

I look back at him with a frown. “There’s only one bed,” I say. “Where are you going to sleep, then?”

He arches a dark brown brow. “Where do you think?” he replies. “The bed.”

“The same bed?” I take a step away from him. “You’re kidding.”

Viks pushes off from the doorframe and makes his way across the room, not stopping until he’s hovering over me—all six foot and several inches of him. “What about my expression makes you think I’m joking?”

I shake my head. “You have to be,” I argue. “I can’t sleep in the same bed as you.”

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