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I didn’t even want to think about my trust fund. God knew what was going to happen to it. I assumed my dad would keep control of it to keep me under his thumb, though he should be throwing it at me since he so royally fucked everything up.
“Thank god you still don’t think I’m a rat.” That had sucked big time when the club and Throttle thought I was some spy trying to get them in trouble.
“For the record, even when I thought you were a rat, I also thought you were hot.” Throttle winked at me.
I rolled my eyes and laid my head on the seat. “Thank you, I think.”
A sign for Mt. Pleasant was on the side of the road, and it was like a cup of cold water dumped over me.
Our week-long adventure of distracting the camera crew was over, and it was time to get back to our real reality.
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