Page 12 of Filthy Elites

“Because you think you’re too good to play a duet?”

“No, because I don’t want to play at a recital. I haven’t practiced in months,” I grit out.

He sits straighter. “You’re a filthy little liar, aren’t you, Nicola?”

My face becomes hot in a flash. “I’m not lying.”

“Oh, I think you are. You lied to me about never having played the violin before. Is anything that comes out of your mouth real?”

I can’t answer that truthfully. I look away. “I’m busy. If you only came here to—”

He slaps his hand on the table hard, making me jerk in my seat. “Do not dismiss me, Nicola. I can make your life very unpleasant here at Maverick Prep.”

His eyes shine with a dangerous glint. I was fooled into believing pot could tame the beast.

“What do you want from me? Can’t you just leave me alone?”

He stands up. “You should have said no to Mrs. Simpson. Now we have to spend every spare moment together, practicing for the recital, and I’ll make sure to take some pleasure from it one way or another.”

* * *

I wantto call my parents so badly, but our calls must be scheduled, and they need to use burner phones to make sure the calls aren’t traceable. Juan’s family is that powerful. If Jason’s family owns Triton Cove, Juan’s family owns Europe. My attack was never mentioned anywhere, and my cause of death was a hit and run. Pushing for justice would mean destroying my parents’ lives. They would lose their jobs, their reputation. Juan’s father would make sure they were nothing but dust. It would all be for nothing because no judge in Spain would convict Juan. I couldn’t do that to them. In the end, it was my decision to fake my death and start over. It doesn’t mean it’s not hard. I can never go back to being Isabelle Maldonaro.

My parents want me to be safe, and they resigned themselves that their only daughter has died for real. But playing the violin made me feel alive again, and I can’t bear to give up that feeling. I’ll stand up to Jason, and any other bully who gets in my way. I survived worse than him—much, much worse.

Before I take a shower, I prop my chair against the door, something I’ve been doing since Jason made himself at home in my room. Unfortunately, I can’t keep him from breaking in when I’m not around. I hid anything that could clue him in about my true identity, but I’m still paranoid he’s going to find something I missed.

I’m barely out of the shower when a loud knock on my door disturbs my peace.

What now?

I look through the peephole, and sure as shit, there’s Jason. I bet he tried to barge in like before.

“What do you want?” I ask through the closed door.

“I have a gift for you,” he replies sweetly.

“Leave it outside then.”

“What’s the matter, Nicola? Are you afraid of me?”

Stupid, cocky asshole.He knows exactly how to manipulate me. I yank the door open, forgetting to put clothes on first. Once again, I’m standing in front of him wearing nothing but a towel.

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you already trying to get on my good side, Nicola?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You have terrible timing.”

He walks in, carrying a violin case in his hand. It has a big red bow on top.

“What’s that?”

“Your gift.” He sets the case on the bed.

Crossing my arms, I glower. “Unnecessary. I can buy my own instrument.”

“Sure. But you’re going to use this one. Go on. Open it.”

There’s a challenge in his eyes. He won’t leave my room until I do as he says, and sadly, I can’t force him out. In a brute force contest, he wins.

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