Page 79 of Raven

“She is not. If she does, I’ll be with her,” I say. “You are off for the night.”

He nods and walks away, and I can’t help thinking that this guy who has a special relationship with prayers now knows more about me and Maddy than any other guy on this island.

I listen to his footsteps disappear and feel the tension curl inside me when I knock on Maddy’s door.

I wasn’t prepared for this. None of the dozen scenarios that I turned over in my head before coming here imagined this, the girl opening the door for me.

For a minute, there’s a glitch in my brain’s matrix as I stare not at Maddy but at Milena Tsariuk, the spitting image of her from the videos and social media pictures, sans the blonde hair.

Tonight, Milena Tsariuk is at Ayana for the first time in two years, being her gorgeous self.

I study her black, sparkly minidress, loosely hanging on the tiny straps off her shoulders and a hemline so short that if she bent even an inch, I would see her panties. Her long legs end with impossibly high heels with little bowties. Her hair is ironed to perfection, the slick brown curtain of it framing her meticulously made-up face. Smoky eyes, thick black eyelashes, lip gloss.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Her hand is on the door as she takes a graceful step back and puts her weight on one leg, smiling.

Even her voice is different when she says, “Come in.” It’s husky and sexy, and as I take a step inside, I know I’m stepping into a parallel reality.

Sure enough, the lights are dimmed. Electronic candles flicker all around the room, and a neon party light softly glows. Sexy house music is playing, making her studio feel like a private club lounge.

The room smells like alcohol and food being cooked in the oven and expensive perfume.

Not a date, I remind myself, but everything about this feels and smells like it.

Her heels click against the tile floor as she slowly turns around before me, modeling, her pretty eyes smiling. “You wanted to see Milena Tsariuk? You are the first one on this island.”

She turns and strides toward the coffee table, bends her knees, gracefully picks up the remote, and takes the music down a notch.

No, I can’t see her panties, but the hemline rides so high that the sight of her bare tanned thighs makes my body burn with anticipation.

Maddy is magnetic, so incredibly sexy, so not like… her. I don’t know how I feel about it. Not sure if she is being herself or putting up a show trying to please me with that sex-bombshell look.

“Would you like a drink?” she offers softly like some sort of escort girl.

Maybe I just haven’t had girls like this around me. Sure, there was Angelica, wealthy and spoiled, but way looser and more informal when we went out.

Maddy has this sophisticated polished look.

“Sure,” I say, watching as she saunters toward the kitchen island, her hips swinging, her legs bare and impossibly long, her posture straight and confident. That well-practiced elegance is something you can’t teach in a day.

“Whiskey?” she asks.

So, she knows what I drink. I never told her. But sure enough, she pulls out a bottle of my favorite, special reserve. They don’t keep it in Ayana bars, I have to order it from the mainland. She has a bottle, and I have a feeling it’s not a coincidence.

“Neat?” she asks, her eyes flicking from the bottle up to meet mine.

“Yes,” I say. But she already knows that.

She picks up a half-full martini glass and my drink and sashays toward me.

“You started without me?” I joke without a smile.

She smiles though, that calculated movement of her lips, not too eager but sexy-like, as she passes me the drink. Even her fingernails are painted a pretty deep coral.

“On the mainland, Milena would’ve had several by now. Pregaming was her favorite thing. Cheers!”

She gracefully brings her martini glass to mine, long enough for a tiny clink, and takes a sip. Even her sipping a cocktail is fucking sexy, and God help me if she has more of that sass ready for me tonight.

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