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The glitz, the flash, and the wonder are what I’m all about.
I’m pleased to see not one speck of resemblance to the rundown, filthy warehouse it once was. It exudes impeccable wealth and power. Cobwebs and dust have been replaced with imported leather and crystal. Stained gray concrete is now covered with bright-colored Oriental rugs. Cold shadows will soon be masked with warm bodies belonging to the rich and influential. Both villains and angels will mix together with one thing in common. They all have the power to do whatever they want, whenever they want to. They just need the gathering spot to do so.
Wonderland.
“Any other Morellis attending tonight?” I ask.
“Elliott Morelli,” Harrison answers quickly. His photographic memory is always a skill I appreciate. “But separate from Sasha. I’m not sure if the two know the other is attending.”
I consider the name, his knowledge of the bigger picture, and feel confident that he’ll be blind to the fact that Bryant’s bastard daughter will be in attendance. If my intel is correct—and it usually is—very few Morellis know of Bryant’s shameful secret. Two children he not only ignored but refused to allow anyone in the family to assist them financially in any way. If Elliott knows about Lyriope and Dylan Bailey, I seriously doubt he can pick them out from a crowd.
“What about anyone connected with the Sidorov family?” I ask.
“They haven’t been in New York since you paid them off for that—” Harrison laughs loudly and places his empty glass on the bar as realization hits him. “Oh yes, you paid them off for a young lady who you simply called ‘Flower.’” He laughs again. “I see that Lyriope Morelli is the flower.”
“I don’t pay you to be smart,” I snarl between clenched teeth, annoyed that Harrison can read me so easily. He’s the only one still alive who can.
“Yes, you do. My brilliance makes me a wealthy man,” he answers as he perfects his posture, pulls his shoulders back and exposes his neck. “Flower is safe tonight. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried.” I signal for the bartender to pour me another drink. “I invested in her. I simply want to protect my investment. That’s it.”
“Whatever you say. Regardless, I’ll put extra security on her,” Harrison offers.
“Low-key,” I direct as I take my drink and make my way over to the DJ stand.
My step falters and the need to lean on my cane is demanding. Fucking knee is acting up more than normal today. Hiding my grimace, I focus on my notorious swagger and well-painted smirk instead. Smoke and mirrors can hide any imperfections.
Never show weakness.
Never show my Kryptonite. Motherfucking Superman never limps.
I stride with purpose, and without hesitation, across the room to begin my inspections. With authority pumping through my veins, I ignore the throbbing in my leg.
Harrison follows me to the stand and adds, “I’ll give the guest list a once over just to make sure, but even if word gets out about Flower being here, we have our rules that will guarantee her security.”
Yes, our rules. They’re simple, black and white, and nonnegotiable: No business can be conducted. No VIP status since Wonderland is an equal playground for the most powerful, rich, famous, and connected. No violence, regardless of whether your enemy is drinking beside you. No bashfulness—feel free to fuck for all to see.
And the final rule—the most important one—Nick Hudson can break any of his rules.
“Like I said.” I turn to face him. “I’m not worried.”
Harrison is smart enough to drop the subject. He turns his attention to the staff and shouts, “Five minutes before music and lights.” He then turns to me. “I’m going to make sure Lyriope is on Martha’s list so she won’t have any trouble getting through the door.”
“Oh, one more thing,” I ask, focusing my attention fully on Harrison. “Do we have anyone for tea tonight?”
I use Wonderland as a place to conduct business in a civilized manner. Complete enemies can all sit at my table and discuss, inform, even respectfully threaten but with no retaliation. My tea parties are a notorious place for the most powerful to gather under the temporary white flag. I sometimes call the meetings myself if there are things I want discussed, but I also allow others to request a tea party—as long as Wonderland rules are followed.
“Not tonight.” Harrison says. “So, you can have the whole night with your flower if you want.”
He winks and leaves before I can scowl or growl out a warning that he’s pushing it.
Stalking to the balcony where I plan to spend the night looking down upon my guests, I try to refocus my attention on the now. Lyriope has moved up the timeline for my plan which causes heat to sizzle through my veins. I don’t want to be rushed, and I most certainly don’t want to be forced to act based on someone else. A well-executed plan takes time, and Lyriope Morelli deciding to make tonight her coming out party… well, I’ve run out of time.
