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“She’s the only one who’s descended from real royalty,” Prisha explains. “And she likes to remind everyone about it all the time. Her family has lived here for centuries, and at the end of World War II, her great-grandfather or something got in bed with the Soviet Union. The Soviets were suppressing the native German people and their culture, but her family managed to join the enemy instead of fight.”
I fold my arms to keep warm. “So, she comes from backstabbers? How fitting.”
My gaze turns to the edge of the field, where Konstantin and Alek join Irina and…
“Johanna’s back?” Prisha asks.
“And it looks like she got some new clothes.”
Johanna isn’t wearing her school uniform anymore. Instead, she’s wearing a designer coat and heels, looking like she just stepped off the runway of Paris Fashion Week.
Konstantin wraps Irina in an intimate hug, his hands coming down to slip beneath her skirt. She giggles and pushes him off but then launches herself into his arms for a kiss.
Alek and Johanna begin talking, and a moment later, she steps forward to embrace him. He doesn’t do anything to push her off.
“And what’s the deal with those two?” I ask, though the question sticks in my throat like molasses.
“I can barely keep up,” Prisha says on a sigh. “But the rumor is they’re on-again, off-again.”
My eyes remain fixed on the pair. “So, they’ve dated?”
“If you could call it dating. I think Johanna’s more invested than he is. But from what I hear, his father likes the idea of Alek marrying into European royalty.”
Prisha’s answer makes my chest squeeze. I shouldn’t care—I don’t care—but knowing he rejected my advances and not hers hurts.
I’m sure this would be easier if it was another girl in his arms. I’m only taking it personally because Johanna is now my rival.
Yes, that’s the reason.
Alek tips his head upward, glancing at me over her shoulder. When his cold gaze locks onto mine, a jolt of fear grips my body. I stiffen as a sense of foreboding dread seeps through my veins like poison.
And then he smirks.
Only hours ago, he was throwing me against the wall in anger, and now, he’s smirking at me. I want to punch the smug look off his face and kiss those teasing lips all at once.
In my relationships with guys, I’ve always been the instigator. Men are predictable and so easy to manipulate with sex.
But Alek? He’s different. I can’t figure him out, and that scares me. He’s playing a twisted game with me the way a lion plays with its prey before going in for the kill.
And if I don’t know the rules, I’m not sure how I’ll escape alive.
Chapter 7
Willow
Most seventeen-year-olds would be out with friends on a Friday night, but not me. Tonight I have a date with a book in my bed.
I finished the novel Prisha lent me earlier this week, and now I’m hooked on a whole new genre I never knew existed. I’m tempted to pick up the phone and text her about the ending, but that small voice in the back of my head is warning me not to get too attached. It’ll only make it harder to leave come June.
Earlier, I charged my Kindle and downloaded similar steamy romance books onto it. Some of them are dark enough to warrant trigger warnings, which piques my curiosity.
I pick the one with the most foreboding cover and open it to the trigger warning page. Anal sex, bondage, breath play, dubious consent, forced sex fantasy, non-consent… The list goes on.
Perfect.
My plan is to stay up and finish this book tonight. There’s a mountain of homework to do, but escapism is my top priority right now.
Because that’s what sex is: an escape. A temporary distraction from my miserable reality.
