Page 13 of Raven

And I burst out laughing. We’ll totally fuck with his head.

I’d take him home. I’d enjoy him too. He might be useless, of course. Guys watch so much porn, and many of them still don’t know how to fuck. But I only hook up with guys at Maddy’s or during parties and getaways. Kolya, my bodyguard, always watches me like a hawk. The new one, Armén, is even worse. It’s annoying as hell that I have to sneak around to get any guy action. Boyfriend? Not if I want to take a chance of his legs being broken by my father’s goons, like the last one. Not when I am supposed to marry someone my father picked for me years ago. And that is… Yeah, in three months, right after I graduate.

This mental countdown has been messing with my head for over a year. The closer I get to the deadline, the more I contemplate doing something stupid to myself.

I swing my hips harder, getting lost in the loud music, sinking in the tequila drunk, and trying to forget that I have only three months to party my brains out. After that—goodbye to my career in psychology, goodbye freedom, goodbye to the US. Hello, married life and kids to a stranger that I despise and fucking Russia that I don’t want to go back to.

Patrick can’t take his eyes off me, so I lower myself onto his lap.

“So, what’s next, stranger?” I murmur and lean over to give him a soft kiss on the lips.

He tastes like tequila and lime and cigarette smoke and freedom and sex—something I won’t have very soon.

“My place?” he asks, turning to Maddy and kissing her next.

Our game has become more intense and reckless. Maddy feels like she’s going to lose me soon. It’s as if my desperation rubs off on her.

“Whoa,” Patrick exhales when he lets go of her and turns to me. “I have an idea. Maddy.”

“I’m Maddy,” Maddy says, and I laugh.

“Wait-wait-wait,” he murmurs, confused.

“Two Maddys,” I say and wink at him.

I don’t like bringing up my name. First, it’s clearly Eastern European. Second, after what happened to my ex, there are rumors to stay away from Milena Tsariuk, the Russian mob princess, and I’d rather not take a chance of any warnings clicking in this guy’s head.

“So, two Maddys,” he says, amused. “Wanna go somewhere fun for spring break?”

My heart sinks. It’s the first spring break my dad ordered me to stay in town. “I don’t need any surprises. Not now, Mila,” he said.

“I can’t go, but she can,” I say, running my finger along the cutie’s jawline.

I need to get wasted to forget that soon I’ll be sold like cattle to some wealthy Kazakhstani banker. Maybe, I’ll just drink my brains out. I don’t even need to graduate. Who needs a degree when you’ll be pregnant and popping kids like hot cakes for the foreseeable future?

Patrick gives me sad puppy eyes. “Well, you might change your mind if I tell you what’s up.”

“What’s up?” Maddy mocks him playfully.

“Wanna get on a private jet and go to a tropical island? Zion?”

I exchange glances with Maddy.

“You have a jet?” I muse, trying to figure out who he is. Maybe if I knew his last name, I could ask around. I know most of the rich kids on the East Coast. My father does, too, so I have to be careful.

“Nah, not mine. My buddy. Archer.”

“Archer—?”

“Archer Crone,” he says.

Holy shit!

“Wait.” Maddy straightens up. “Archer Crone from Deene? The Secretary of Defense’s kid?” Her jaw falls open.

“Yep.” Patrick nods indifferently, and his eyes are on me. “So, does that change your mind?”

He smiles and leans over to me, and I kiss him, practically fuck him with my tongue so I can forget that I have no chance at partying on an island. My father knows the Secretary of Defense, yeah. No wonder Zion Island sounds familiar.

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