Page 69 of Filthy Elites

Victoria laces her arm with mine as if we’re old friends. My skin breaks out in goose bumps as the feeling I’m getting cozy with the devil takes over. I crane my neck, hoping to find Jason in the crowd. The last thing I want is to spend time alone with his mother. I don’t trust her friendliness one bit.

“I understand that you and my son are an item now,” she says.

“Uh, yeah, it’s new.”

She veers for the stairs. I guess we’re starting the tour on the second floor, where no one can witness it if she decides to kill me. My pulse accelerates, even though I know the biggest threat Victoria presents is to hurt me with words. Still, dots of sweat form on my forehead.

“Jason has never dated anyone seriously. You must be something special.” Sarcasm drips from her two-forked tongue.

I don’t know how to reply to that without sounding conceited. If she only knew how fucked up my relationship with Jason is, maybe she wouldn’t bother with this farse.

Once on the second floor, we pass several closed doors in the hallway and stop in front of none. As far as tours go, this is a strange one.

“Jason has always been peculiar, especially as a child. Too sensitive. He didn’t inherit the Petrov backbone.”

“I don’t think being sensitive is a detriment,” I say.

She chuckles. “It is when you’re destined to be on top. But you wouldn’t know that, would you, honey?”

We finally stop in front of a closed door at the end of the corridor.

“Alas, his whiny phase didn’t last long, but he decided to pick up an even more disturbing habit.” She opens the door and says, “Go on, dear. Have a look.”

I hesitate. “What’s in there?”

“This is Jason’s former practice room. I think you should know what you’re getting into.”

I’m leery about going into dark rooms, so I turn on the lights first. It takes only two steps forward for me to understand Victoria’s reason for bringing me here. The walls in the room are papered from top to bottom with pictures and news articles about me.

My heart is beating so loud, is sounds a like a stampede. She knows who I am.

“What’s this?”

“This, my dear, is why I thought Jason would never be interested in any girl.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My son has a pathological obsession with Isabelle Maldonaro, a prodigy violinist who sadly died a year ago.”

I swallow the huge lump in my throat and come closer to one of the walls. There are newspaper articles dating back to eight years ago. But what catches my attention—maybe because it’s the biggest printout—is the announcement of my death. I feel sick and dizzy, and I have the sensation the walls are caving in. I knew he hated me, but this looks like the room of a serial killer. It reminds me of the room Juan locked me in, which had walls covered by photographs of us together. Have I gotten involved with another crazy asshole?

No, it’s much worse. I think I’ve fallen for one. I hug my middle, trying to control the shakes that are wreaking havoc in my body.

“Mother, what’s going on?” Jason asks from the door.

“I was just showing Nicola your old practice room,” she replies sweetly.

I turn around, and when my gaze connects with his, my entire world crumbles. His eyes are guilty as hell. I can’t keep it together. I have to leave, or I’ll do something insane, such as rip all those photos of me from the wall.

I push him out of my way and don’t stop running.

ChapterTwenty-Nine

Jason

I turnto my mother as rage simmers in my gut, low and dangerous. “What have you done?”

“I thought it was only right to show Nicola what she’s getting into. No woman should start a relationship with a guy who’s obsessed with a dead girl.”

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