Page 140 of Locked in Wonderland

A corner of Nico’s mouth twitched, but he said nothing.

“Shit,” I muttered. “I wish I’d known that. I’d have persuaded one of them to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

“I thought you didn’t like games.”

“I just prefer to know when I’m playing one.”

He still hadn’t denied it.

Nico turned on his stool until he was facing me fully. “Why didn’t any of your dates work out? Were you thinking about someone else?” His smile was infuriatingly smug. “They do say that comparison is the thief of joy.”

Arrogant git.

Rather than feed his ego, I changed the subject. “What happened to Victor?”

“I gave the police a list of names. Want to guess the order?”

“Queenie Hart. Henry Hart. Kellan Hart.”

“So far, so good.”

“I’m hoping Victor came next.”

“He did. Then Percy and Lola. You’ll be pleased to know they’ll all be spending a very long time in prison. And yes—I made sure I received immunity. I’m not on the run.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Not that it would have made any difference if he was. I knew he wasn’t an angel. Nothing would ever erase the manipulative way he’d engineered our first two sexual encounters, but he’d been right when he’d said it could have been so much worse.

“Was there anyone you left off the list?”

“Dodo. I gave explicit instructions that he was to be escorted safely off the island.”

“Why?” I already knew the answer. I just wanted to hear him say it.

“He helped you when he shouldn’t have, at great personal risk to himself.” Nico shrugged lightly. “That deserved a reward.”

Warmth spread through my chest. I shifted my leg until my knee rested against his.

He didn’t move away.

The contact sent a pleasant shiver through me. Suddenly, getting him alone and naked seemed far more important than anything else we’d discussed. It had been far too long. We weren’t there yet, though. Not unless I was prepared to have sex with him without knowing what came next.

“I suppose if you’ve been stalking me, you already know about the tattoo.”

His brow furrowed. “Tattoo?”

I smiled. “Maybe your private detective wasn’t as good as you thought.”

“Her only task was reporting the basics. Where you were living, who you were spending time with, that sort of thing. I didn’t need to know where you shopped for groceries.”

“Perhaps I was having a torrid affair with a tattoo artist.”

“Were you?”

“No.”

“Then tell me about the tattoo.”