Page 597 of Filthy Elites

Once the scandal hit, I went from Queen B to nothing overnight.

My first problem here going out into the unknown is that I won’t know my enemies until they choose to strike.

Dare I wish that maybe things could be different.

There’s a possibility it could. Raventhorn Academy is an elite school for some of the world’s richest and most important people.

I won’t pretend I don’t know the history behind the walls. The school is linked to the Bratva and the Knights, a secret society that runs it. Two more things which makes me extremely uncomfortable about being here and my new life.

You can only get in this school if you’re one of the heirs, or your family is part of them, or works in their alliance—I did my research and asked the questions I felt I needed answers to.

I’m here because of Cal, Mom’s fiancée. A.K.A.—the man she was screwing before Dad went to prison.

Cal is a big-shot lawyer. The kind you know who will wipe the floor with anyone in opposition and who can work miracles when there is no way out.

He’s originally from Moscow and works for some powerful Russian oligarch.

The ink was barely dry on the divorce papers before Cal slipped that ring on my mother’s finger. That was weeks ago. It’s coming up to the sixth-month mark since Dad has been in prison.

A swarm of students come into my view as I get closer to the building.

It’s busy already.

I’m supposed to go to the principal’s office first to check-in and get the tour. I guess I’ll be on my own after that.

I’m so lost in thought that as I turn to go up the steps, I don’t see the guy standing next to me until it’s too late, and I crash right into his hard wall of a chest.

The impact of the collision is so bad, that I bounce off him and land on my ass.

My bag goes flying, and the contents sprawling out on the stone pavement. People passing by look on, and I feel like such a klutz.

Great, Billie, perfect way to draw all the attention you didn’t want to yourself.

I was hoping to at least get through the doors and settle in before the attention part happened.

I guess I’ve never been part of the invisible folk anyway, so this is just the universe putting me in the spotlight for more reasons than one.

Scrambling to my knees, I gear up to apologize, but when the guy crouches down, and I come up close and personal with his handsome face, the air expels from my lungs.

Piercing silver-blue eyes stare back at me. The sun catches the color perfectly when he tilts his head to the side, and a lock of his shiny black hair falls over his eye.

I decide his eyes are more silver than blue, but it depends on the lighting.

He has a face that looks like it belongs on the cover of some magazine and a body that looks far too muscular for a high school boy. Decadent tattoos run up his forearms. Some look like the kind I’ve seen on Cal, which means he’s Russian and most likely one of the Bratva heirs.

Maybe that’s why he’s looking at me with such scrutiny while I’m appreciating the hell out of his ridiculously gorgeous looks.

“I’m sorry, I—”

Before I finish my apology, he grabs one of my pens and snaps it in half, his eyes still riveted to mine.

He takes another and does the same thing.

“What the hell are you doing? I said I was sorry. It was an accident.”

Instead of answering with words, one large hand whips out and secures around my neck.

I’m so shocked I can’t even breathe, so I’m not sure if my lack of air is his grip on me or my terror.

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