Page 196 of Filthy Elites

Reagan

I’m apprehensive about going back to the farm, but I know I can’t avoid it forever. I’m walking toward the shuttle pick up spot when a familiar black Jeep pulls up beside me. The window is open and Miller stares at me from the other side. He leans over, pops open the door and says, “Get in.”

Looking around, I make sure no one is watching as I climb into the Jeep. He presses the gas before the door has fully latched.

His hands grip the black leather steering wheel, and he faces forward when he says, “Look, about last night—"

“There’s no reason to talk about it.” I lay my palms flat on my thighs. “Obviously, it was a mistake.”

The Jeep lurches forward, tires screeching to a stop. I fling forward, but his arm flies out protectively against my chest. I open my mouth to scream at him, cuss him out for being so careless, but when I look at his face, he’s staring at me, eyes blazing.

“That wasn’t a mistake,” he says, his voice low. “That was…”

A horn blares from behind us.

“I’m doing something here!” he shouts at the car, flipping him off. The car swerves around us, and Miller moves to the curb. He shifts the car into park and faces me. “The only regret I have from last night is walking out on you.”

My jaw drops. Actually drops. “What—what are you saying?”

“I don’t know.” He takes a deep breath. “I like fucking you. I like driving around conning liquor off people with you. I worry about you, and when you didn’t show up, I was afraid…” He swallows and looks away.

“Afraid of what?”

“That I’d screwed this up for good.”

I look around, searching for a camera or Royer or maybe Andrea. I’m waiting for the shoe to drop—the humiliation and pain that comes from me letting down my guard. Miller frowns, noticing my hesitation. “I just had to put that out there,” he says, hand gripping the gear shift. “I won’t retaliate if you don’t feel the same.”

He restarts the car, jumping back into traffic. The ride is silent all the way back to the farm. My heart skitters in my chest. Did he mean all of that? Does he really care for me? It seems crazy and unexpected, but at the same time… not.

Miller doesn’t usually pay this much attention to one female, and he’s been following me around for months. Sure, some of that was for the prank, but… how much? I think of all the times on my father’s boat or the opportunities he took to corner me. The small touches and the hungry eyes. I know this man is awful. A monster. But sometimes monsters still have a heart beneath all the scales and claws.

He pulls the Jeep to a stop before we get to the parking area, gravel kicking up from the tires. He parks and I sit there, heart stuck in my throat. I’m not sure why he’s stopped, but it gives me a moment to muster up the courage to say, “I don’t regret last night either.”

He shifts to face me.

“But?”

“But I don’t know how to trust you, not after all of this.”

“That’s fair.” He flips the beads hanging from his rearview mirror. “I don’t like it, but I understand.”

The air in the car grows thin, the space between us almost non-existent. But the farmhouse is right in front of us. Anyone could see us sitting like this. It’s dangerous. I start to open the door, but he reaches across me and pulls it shut.

“Royer knows you didn’t come back last night,” he says, eyes darting toward the house, the red rooftop visible through the trees. “And Rat and the chit, your old roommate, got into it after class. He’s on the warpath. You need to hunker down for a while.”

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Having a run in with either of them is not on my list of things I want to do today. Not with so little time left. “What? How the hell am I supposed to hunker down?”

His mouth forms a thin line, and he shifts impatiently. Finally, his expression clears, and he asks, “Do you trust me?”

Do I?

No.

Do I have a choice?

No, again.

I sigh and brace myself. “What do you want me to do?”

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