Page 59 of Cruel Elite (Princes of Ravenlake Academy 3)

“We’ll come back for it. Get in,” she snaps. “We’re going to yoga.”

I climb into the passenger seat. After the day I had, yoga might actually be nice. Usually, after an orgasm, I’m loose.

But Noah left me feeling more tense than ever.

“I don’t have my yoga clothes or mat. I didn’t know we were doing this.”

My mom smiles over at me, her expression a bit too forced. “Don’t worry. I brought you some clothes.”

I’m suspicious, but hopeful. Maybe this is just an impromptu mother-daughter yoga date.

Maybe she’s trying to make amends.

It doesn’t take long to realize how wrong that thought was.

As soon as we step into the studio, I wince. The air is stifling and humid. It has to be at least a hundred degrees.

“Hot yoga?”

“To sweat out our toxins,” my mom says, handing me my bag and mat. “Go to the bathroom and change before class starts.”

I head into the locker room at the back of the studio and unzip the bag to reveal my clothes.

Mywinterclothes.

The leggings my mom packed are fur-lined, and the shirt is long-sleeved with a thermal layer on the inside.

If I wear either of these things into that hot box of a studio, I’ll drown in my own sweat.

I open the door to find my mom and tell her what happened, but she’s already standing outside the door.

“What is it, dear?” she asks, her voice sweet enough to give cavities. “Class is about to start.”

“These clothes are too warm. They’re my winter leggings. I can’t wear them to hot yoga.”

“At least this way, no one will mistake you for a stripper.” She smiles tightly and walks away.

That’s when it becomes clear.

This is a punishment.

Days later, and my mom hasn’t let it go.

I feel sick. Noah was even more right than he realized.

Even after everything my mom has done and said, I had hope. I was so desperate for any kind of love, or even a small sign that she cared, that I fell for her trap.

I expected something of her that she has never once shown me, and it’s all because I’m desperate.

I’m desperate, and today, I’m far too tired to fight.

Despondent, I bundle up in the cold-weather workout gear and head into the class.

People in the room look at me like I’m crazy, including my mom.

“Honey,” she says, loudly enough that the women around us can hear. “You’re going to pass out in that outfit. Why didn’t you bring shorts?”

“I have a lot of toxins to sweat out.”

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