Page 95 of Filthy Elites

“Yes, sir.”

“Someone is doing this on purpose,” he states.

I frown. “Dealing Haze on Eastpoint’s campus?” I clarify.

He sits back, steepling his fingers against his chest as his eyes stare down at his desk in contemplation. “Yes,” he answers. “From what we know, Haze is highly addictive. I’ve had my inside guy at Eastpoint Police keep a watch out and he just sent me some rather disturbing news on this.”

“About the drug?” I reply. “Have there been deaths?”

“Three.” A curse threatens to spill out of my throat at that. I scrub a hand down my face. Nicholas’ attention returns to me. “I want it gone, Viks. I want Haze off my fucking streets and out of my fucking city. I don’t care what you have to do to make it happen, but this is your top priority. Forget the club for now; I’ll have Andrei take it over for the time being. I want the entirety of your attention on this.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Track whoever is selling on my fucking turf, Viks.” Nicholas stands and reaches down, clenching his fist into a few of the documents laying there. The sound of tearing paper is like a gunshot in the otherwise silent room. “And get rid of them.”

There’s no way to misinterpret his meaning. My chest swells with acknowledgment. Death is coming to Eastpoint and this time, I’m the dealer.

THREE

Haley

“Come on, Haley. Just one date?”

I throw my head back and look skyward even as I shove Josh to the side and keep walking.

“I said no,” I repeat for what has to be the millionth time.

Josh jogs to catch up with me as my legs eat up the distance between me and the next classroom building. I check my phone and curse. I’m already going to be late for class and I really don’t have time to deal with him today.

“I just don’t understand why you keep saying that, though,” Josh continues. “Am I ugly?”

I roll my eyes. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation, but surprisingly this is the first time Josh has tried the ‘pity me’ route. “You don’t have to be ugly for me not to be interested, Josh,” I tell him blandly as I side step a bicycle flying down the campus walkway and keep going. Josh barely manages to dodge it himself as he trails after me, hurrying to meet my stride once more.

“Then give me a reason,” he pleads. “Just one date—”

“No!” I groan as my shoe catches on a crack in the sidewalk and I stumble, going down hard on my knees and spilling the contents of my bag all over the place. “Shit.” I shake my head and hurriedly start grabbing items, stuffing them back into my messenger bag as quickly as my hands can move.

I’m fucking tired from the doubles I pulled at the club over the weekend and in no mood for Josh’s new round of ‘ask Haley out’ questions. Josh stands over me, flittering around me in a circle as he continues talking. It doesn’t escape my notice that he doesn’t offer to help, much less bother to get on his knees next to me as I continue to clean up my mess.

“I’m a nice guy, Haley,” Josh says. “You know I’d never treat you poorly.”

Why won’t I go on a date with him? Things like this. We’re not even dating and he can’t bother to do nice shit unless he gets something out of it. Yeah, he’s such a nice guy. The fucking captain of team nice.

I finish cleaning up my class materials, including my expensive paint brushes, and stand, marching forward and ignoring his continued pleading. Just once, I wish he’d lock on someone else. Someone who might actually give him a chance because that person will never be me.

I round the corner and spot my building halfway down the sidewalk, but unfortunately—and rather surprisingly—I spot something else familiar not far from it. The bane of my fucking existence and part of the reason why I’m so fucking stressed and exhausted.

Mitchell fucking Vikson.

He’s in one of those hundred-dollar suits, sans jacket, as he walks down the sidewalk with a few men dressed similarly—administrators, I assume. Despite the fact that I know I need to hurry up and get to class, I find myself lingering on the sidewalk, watching him. Curious.

It’s odd to see him like this. I’m so used to seeing him in the club’s setting with his sleeves rolled up and his collar undone, sporting all of the ink I know lays beyond the fabric that covers him. I’ve always wondered if that ink went all the way down. Even dipping into his pants. I bet he’s got a few pieces below the belt, but the only way to truly be sure, of course, is to see him naked. I shake my head as my face flames.

Holy shit, was I just thinking of Viks naked? Oh, no no no no.That is such a big fucking no.

“Haley?” Josh’s voice brings me back to reality and I jerk around to face him. “Are you okay? Your cheeks are flushed?” He steps up to me and presses a hand to my forehead. “You’re not sick, are you?”

I wave him away, pushing his hand back. “I’m fine,” I say quickly. “Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have to get to class?”

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