Page 61 of Locked in Wonderland

He paused deliberately.

“And I take exception to being referred to as a mystery pervert.”

I stared at him.

The implication took an absurdly long time to sink in. Even when it did, my first instinct was to reject it outright. I shook my head. “That wasn’t you. It couldn’t have been.”

Nico frowned. “No? Why not? Wasn’t I at the nightclub a short time before? We saw each other, remember?” His lips quirked. “While I wouldn’t say our eyes met across a crowded room because it’s a bit cliché, it was definitely something similar. Why is it so hard to believe it was me?”

“Because…”

I had nothing. My brain was too busy sorting through the two experiences and ticking off similarities.

Muscled thighs.

Check.

Big dick.

Check.

Firm grip.

Check.

Good at fucking.

Check.

“It was me,” Nico said.

“You filmed me!”

He raised both hands in a defensive gesture. “That’s not my thing. That’s Zane and Zeke’s thing. A little side hustle they have going.”

He crossed to the chest of drawers and pulled a USB drive from the top one, holding it up between thumb and forefinger. “I have the only copy, though. I made sure of it.”

I wasn’t entirely certain whether that was supposed to make me feel better or worse. “The casino…” Dahlia’s words echoed through my head. “You have an admirer.”

“Also me.” Nico tilted his head. “So, as you can see, your string of men was really just one man. And last night was me too, in case you needed clarification on that.”

“Why?”

“Because I like you.” He said it as though it should have been obvious. “I liked you enough to warn you not to come here. When you ignored that warning, I decided I’d keep you safe.”

“Keep me safe?” The words exploded out of me. “How is fucking me under false pretenses keeping me safe?”

“Calm. Down.”

“No, I won’t fucking calm down. I knew this place was twisted, but it’s even worse than I thought. And you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

A spark of anger flickered to life in Nico’s eyes. Before I could react, he backed me against the wall. His hand closed around my throat, holding me there. I clawed at his wrist, but accomplished nothing. “Are you going to listen?” he asked.

“I’ve been listening.”

“No, you haven’t.” Keeping me pinned with one hand, he tapped my temple with the fingers of his free hand. “You’ve been letting your emotions take control.”

I laughed. His grip wasn’t tight enough to cut off my air.