“She’s keeping secrets from you,” Miles snapped. I whirled around on him. “Oh yeah? What kind of secrets?” “Like who she really is.” He was dead fucking serious. “Do you think I don’t know?” I hissed. “I’m perfectly aware of who she is. She’s—” “Not actually rich,” he said. His tone was a verbal slap in the face. “Not actually from a “good” family. That she’s running borderline sweetheart scams? If she’s doing that to the likes of pro football players and socialites, what do you think she’s doing to you? How far do you think she would go to keep you in line?”
