Page 139 of Locked in Wonderland

He propped an elbow on the bar and rested his head in his hand. “I’d also advise against paying Mr. Belmont another penny.”

“Why?”

He winced. “He’s not very good. Leaving him clues was like organizing an Easter egg hunt for a child who never thinks to look underneath anything. Whatever you’re paying him, it’s too much.”

I snorted. “If you knew I was looking for you, why didn’t you let me catch up sooner?”

“Because I wanted to see whether you’d give up.”

The answer landed harder than I’d expected.

“I didn’t.”

He held my gaze. “No,” he agreed quietly. “You didn’t.”

I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “I wouldn’t have. Not until I ran out of money.”

The corner of his mouth lifted. “And here you are.” He nodded toward the newspaper. “Did you come all this way just because you had questions?”

“No.” This was the tough part. I’d chased a man across Europe, who for all I knew, had decided I was better left in his past. He was attractive enough that I doubted celibacy had featured heavily in the time since I’d last seen him. If this went badly, I’d have nobody to blame but myself.

I took a longer swallow of whiskey. “There were some things I needed to say.”

Nico made a small, circling “go on” motion with one hand.

“First, I never had Stockholm syndrome. That was a ridiculous accusation. I’ve read up on it, and our situation didn’t fit. It wasn’t even close.”

“No?” He looked genuinely intrigued. “You experienced trauma. You attached yourself to me because you saw me as your rescuer.” He frowned thoughtfully. “Perhaps I used the wrong term. Trauma bonding? Trauma-related attachment?” He gave a slight shrug. “I’m not a psychologist.”

“Whatever it was, it would have worn off by now.” Resenting what felt like a gaping chasm, I shifted onto the stool beside him. “So if I ever had it, I don’t anymore.” Our knees almost touched. “Did you want me to come and find you?”

“Yes.”

The lack of hesitation was reassuring. “You could have come to me.”

“It had to be your decision.” Nico’s answer came without a moment’s pause. “You needed to endure all those dreadful dates that bored you to tears.”

I blinked. “You knew about those?”

A devilish smile spread across his face.

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” It should have been unsettling. Instead, I searched inside myself for even the smallest flicker of doubt about coming after him and found... nothing. “There weren’t that many dates.”

“Twelve,” Nico said. “None in the first three months. Two in the month after that. The rest spread over the following months. Only three made it to a second date. None reached a third. And you didn’t sleep with any of them.” He raised an eyebrow. “How am I doing?”

“I take it your private detective was better than mine.”

“That wouldn’t have been difficult.”

“It’s like having a long-distance stalker.”

He didn’t deny it.

“What would’ve happened if I’d gotten serious with any of them?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You would’ve shown up.” My certainty surprised me.