Page 77 of Locked in Wonderland

“Ow,” I said, rather theatrically.

Nico leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. When I tested the tension on the chain, hoping he might let go, his fingers tightened around it.

Message received and understood.

I didn’t speak again until the lift stopped, and we were back in the apartment.

It looked exactly the same as when I’d left, which begged the question whether Nico had even been back here. The suit looked the same, but I’d already seen that most of the suits were identical, so that wasn’t proof on its own.

“I get that you’re angry with me,” I ventured.

Nico turned to face me, the heat in his eyes almost making me wish he’d go back to ignoring me. “Do you?”

“Yeah.”

He dropped the chain and left the room, leaving me to either pick up the end or drag it behind me if I wanted to follow. I chose the former, tracking him to the bedroom, where he was changing his shirt with quick, economical movements that reeked of frustration.

“Do you know how expensive you were?” he asked as he buttoned a fresh shirt.

I shook my head. “I have no idea how Wonderland currency equates to real money.”

“Of course you don’t,” Nico said scathingly. “Why would you? You’re happy in your world of ignorance.”

“Hey! That’s not fair. I’ve only been here…”

Nico raised an eyebrow when I faltered. “Go on. How long have you been here?”

“A couple of days?”

“Double that. You might have a better idea of the passage of time if you didn’t keep letting yourself get drugged.”

“Mean,” I said.

“True.”

Unfortunately, it was. I’d come to the same conclusion myself earlier.

“How much?” I asked.

“Twenty-five grand.”

I let out a low whistle.

“Of course, it would have helped if you’d sat there meekly instead of driving the price up.”

So he had been there earlier. He’d just chosen not to show himself. Why? Because he hadn’t decided whether to help me? Or because he had a flair for drama and wanted to wait until the eleventh hour? I could have asked him, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“I’m grateful,” I said instead.

“Are you?” Nico’s gaze searched mine. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it at me. “This contract says I own you body and soul. That I can do anything I want to you.”

Something tightened in my chest. “But you won’t. Because you’re a good guy. It was a rescue, not a purchase.”

“Was it?” His eyes never left mine. “Are you sure about that?”

I wilted beneath the intensity of his stare.

No, I wasn’t. And that was the problem. It would be foolish to admit that, though.