Page 3 of Lost Paradise

“He doesn’t seem very friendly,” Eve says, but she still can’t tear her eyes away from him.

I watch as Zane effortlessly lifts one of Eve’s heavier bags, his athletic build making it seem weightless. “I can take this for you,” he says, securing it with care and drawing her attention away from the docks.

“Thanks,” Eve replies, her voice softening as a warm smile of appreciation blooms on her face. There’s a genuine connection forming between them, a mutual understanding that cuts through the superficial interactions.

Emily, not one to be easily sidelined, steps closer to Zane, her hand brushing his arm lightly. “You must be looking forward to showcasing your skills in the newly built arena,” she says, her voice dripping with false admiration.

Zane’s eyes meet hers briefly, polite but uninterested. “Yeah, it’s a great opportunity,” he replies, his focus shifting back to Eve. “But right now, I’m just looking forward to the journey.”

As I observe these scenes, I feel a sense of detachment, like a ghost drifting through the fringes of their reality. I prefer it this way, watching and understanding without the complications of direct interaction. My own memories of the past year at the college are a mosaic of similar moments, each person a piece of a larger puzzle.

The ferry’s horn blares, cutting through the ambient noise and signaling that it is time to board. The students gather their belongings, their chatter growing louder with renewed excitement. I take a deep breath, preparing myself to join them, another observer blending into the crowd.

My eyes scan the docks, looking for her once more. There she is—the blonde beauty with sorrowful, expressive blue eyes and full, enticing lips. She stands with the other four, her gaze fixed on the horizon. My heart races as I imagine the stories behind those eyes, the secrets hidden beneath that serene facade.

I graze the metal of my tongue stud against my teeth, the anticipation building inside me. What would she taste like? How would her lips feel against mine? The curiosity is almost unbearable, but I know I must bide my time. Revealing myself to her now would ruin everything. Instead, I'll wait for the perfect moment.

Gaining access to the exclusive all-girls dorm at Whitley House is a challenge, but not for me. Sneaking in will be a breeze. Once inside, I’ll make my way to her private room.

I can almost picture it: the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting gentle shadows on her sleeping form. I'll approach her bed silently, my heart pounding with anticipation. Slowly, I'll slide her knickers down her legs, feeling the warmth of her skin against my fingers. And then, I’ll finally get a taste of the real Eve Winters, the hidden depths of her soul, and the essence of her being.

Adjusting the stiffie in my trousers, I gather my belongings and walk down towards the waterfront to board the ferry.The dynamics on this dock are more complex than I initially thought, each student bringing their own stories,their own secrets.

1. Similar to American high school SATS

Chapter 1

As the pulsing musicand raucous laughter echo through the house, I can't help but feel a profound sense of disillusionment wash over me. These parties, these people—they’re all the same.

Predictable, shallow, and utterly boring.

I glance around the room, taking in the sea of privileged faces lost in their own self-indulgence. They are going to be an easy market for this sideline business. But at what cost? Hustling gear to these entitled brats feels like a soul-sucking endeavor, a reminder of just how far I'd strayed from who I used to be.

“Hey, mate, good party.”

My gaze turns briefly to the geezer breezing past me, his arm around some bird who’s probably on molly. My shit is top quality, and these suckers will come back willing to pay the pretty penny for it too.

My father was a genius setting me up here at this exclusive Scottish college, but I’ll be damned if he thinks I’ll be peddling his gear like one of his bottom-feeder lackeys. I’ll be running Hawthornes Valor Institute in no time. Next stop…I’ll be sweeping London from under his fat Greek feet. Bastard’s placed my bruv to groom as his successor. I’ll be damned if I let that happen.

I've come to understand that I don't belong in this normalized, stagnant, and conventional society. I was destined to dominate it. For me, control is as vital as air, not just a desire but an imperative. One day, I will ascend to rule as lord of my dominion.

My eyes slowly travel over to the kitchen area, homing in on the blonde beauty standing next to those three royal witches. I personally don’t know them, but their faces are instantly recognizable. We come from different worlds that sometimesmight cross paths on exclusive playgrounds where a taste for the finer things in life has no bounds for the privileged wealth.

Except I’m not privileged nor part of their spoilt brat pack. I come from the dark end of the East London underworld, where currency is exchanged in blood and shady favors. In my world, status isn't measured by the size of your yacht or the brand of your champagne but by the darkness of one's deeds and the depth of one’s connections in the shadows.

These three stem from the royal elite. Chelsea girls who live in some of London’s most exclusive postcodes. They’re nothing but a bunch of affluent, spoiled, entitled brats living the high life. Their reality is totally detached from the suburban ugliness and the working week. While they flaunt their wealth in St. Tropez on daddy’s yacht on weekends, I navigate the murky waters of London’s prestigious underworld, where survival means getting your hands dirty, and loyalty is bought with more than just money.

I huff a laugh at how pompous and ridiculous most of them are here, but that light blonde American bird standing next to them isn’t one of them. I remember watching her this morning get out of the car by the docks and look up to her bodyguard like he was her actual father. Like me, she doesn’t want to be here, and for one reason or another, she’s forced to attend this college.

But I take a moment to appreciate her physical image. She definitely stands out amidst the crowds with an effortless grace that almost leaves me breathless. Her bright golden locks cascade around her shoulders like a halo, framing a face so angelic it seems almost unreal. And those eyes—bright and blue, sparkling with a warmth that draws me in like a moth to a flame. The curves of her body, hugged by that tight black dress, demand my entire attention.

Evelyn Winters.

I already looked her up. She goes by Eve on her online socials. Daughter of some highly successful Manhattan plutocrat. She could be an American princess by birthright, but something tells me she’d rather be Queen.

She’s a dangerous one to reckon with. Under all that beauty lies a calculating mind poised to seize power at any cost.

A rare kind of female who initially seduces with her vision of a beautiful, liberated woman, but her vision is impaired by her self-absorbed destruction, and her aftertaste is sour. As a newbie at thecollege, she’s merged well with the three witches, but she wants the crown from the reigning witch, and I bet she’ll get it.

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