Page 15 of Ruthless Elites


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It’s the first time I’ve seen her calm and I revel in the moment. I can’t imagine how it must feel to always be on edge. To not have a moment of peace in your life.

“I know that you didn’t ask me, but I wanted to do this. I’m not pitying your or trying to treat you like some charity case. You were right at the race; I had no business being in that race. I don’t need the money and if I hadn’t had been there, you would have won, hands down.”

Stella just looks at me and I can tell she is trying to figure out what to say. I’ve obviously thrown her off being kind.

“I need the money, but not like this...” she goes to argue.

“Just take it. It looks to me like you have some repairs to make,” I say, pointing behind her to the broken door of her trailer.

Stella sighs and doesn’t bother to look behind her. “Yeah, and for rent, food, and everything else,” she whispers.

I’m not sure if I was meant to hear that, but it rocks me to my core. “Were you racing to pay for rent and food?” I ask.

All Stella does is nod. She looks embarrassed and her eyes focus on her feet. I don’t want her to feel like this. No one who works that hard to take care of herself should ever feel embarrassed.

I take my hand and place it under her chin, forcing her to look up at me. “Stella, you are beautiful, strong, and resilient. Don’t be embarrassed over circumstances that you can’t control. Just take this money and let me help you,” I offer again.

There’s a softness radiating from Stella right now, and I want to be the person who brings that light back into her eyes. Life is so unfair. I was born into wealth and power. I never did anything to deserve this life, but it’s mine. Same for Stella. She didn’t ask to be born into a world where she had to survive on her own.

“I won’t be able to repay you,” Stella states.

“I don’t want you to,” I respond.

Shaking her head, Stella steps back and out of my touch. “There has to be something,” she says, biting her lip in angst.

Damn, it’s hot as hell when she does that.

“Maybe you can show me some racing tricks,” I offer.

The reality is, I don’t need help with racing. Anything I needed to learn; I paid a few pro racers to help me with when I first started this hobby. But, if it makes Stella feel more comfortable taking my money, I’ll do it.

“Ok, I can do that,” she agrees. I slide the envelope into her hand and this time, she accepts the offer. Holding it closely to her side, she smiles, and it appears genuine. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” I tell her. I go to move, but then I am reminded of the broken door. “Hey, what are you going to do about that door? You can’t stay here tonight,” I deadpan.

“I have a friend I can stay with tonight,” Stella offers. “Thanks for asking though,” she says, seeming to fidget with the hem of her shorts. I can tell she is uncomfortable with this.

“No problem. I will be in touch,” I say.

Stella pauses and glances back at me. “Hey, do you want something to drink?” she asks.

I doubt this girl has anything that I would want, but the fact that she’s offering surely means something.

“Sure,” I reply, following her inside the trailer.

The place is outdated, but Stella has kept it clean. An old, brown couch sits against a white wall and only a coffee table fills the rest of the space. The kitchen area is smaller than my closet at home, but the counters are bare and wiped down. I can’t help but look around and I feel Stella watching me with curious eyes. I know that she’s waiting for me to judge her—but she’s got it all wrong.

Stella can’t be faulted for the life she was thrown into. Her surroundings aren’t her own doing and I actually respect her for surviving in spite of the shitty cards she was dealt in life.

I spot a book lying on the coffee table and I pick it up, inspecting the worn cover.

“A Streetcar Named Desire,” I say aloud.

Reaching out, Stella grabs the book from me and places it back on the coffee table. “It’s just something my mom gave me once,” she says, shaking her head like it’s insignificant.

She hands me a bottle of water and I gladly accept the gift.

“What is it?” I ask her, clearly amused by her shyness.

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