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“Yes.” I pause, keeping my eyes locked with hers. I don’t say another word until she breaks the stare first. When she does, I add, “Do we have a deal?”
“My safety, my brother’s safety… in exchange for my servitude?”
“Something like that,” I say with a chuckle, enjoying her sour disposition she’s trying to hide from me.
“Do I have a choice?” she asks.
“No.”
I haven’t slept since last night—which is nothing new for me—and I haven’t changed my clothes yet. I’m not exactly liking the idea of leaving Lyriope quite yet, but a hot shower is calling my name. Plus, I think she needs some alone time to process her new situation.
I also need to make a couple phone calls and do some digging. Bottom line is I did pay off Lyriope’s debt months ago. There’s no reason for the Sidorovs to still be after her and yet, they clearly ordered Maxim to kidnap her. I need to find out what’s changed and why the sudden interest in Lyriope again before I get distracted by all her womanly charms.
“Nick,” Lyriope says softly, breaking me from my thoughts. “Promise me that Dylan is safe.”
I nod, understanding how strong a love for a sibling can be. “He’s safe.”
“Can I call him? Can I call Sasha? Can I get my cell phone back?”
“After dinner, we’ll go into my study and make all the phone calls there.” I point to a closed door. “You have a private bathroom. All the necessary toiletries are in there, but if there is anything special you need, be sure to let Diane know and she’ll get it for you. You have time to shower before she arrives.”
I don’t wait for a response and exit her room. I head downstairs to find Diane to give her my orders when I hear Harrison come up behind me and ask, “You want me to stand guard outside her door?”
“She’s not foolish enough to try to escape quite yet. Her body has to absorb the shock first.” I turn to face him, my head starting to pound from lack of sleep and food. “But I do want you to find out why the fuck Maxim came to Wonderland and if he told us the entire truth. I want to know who ordered it and what the end goal was. I want all the details, and I want to know the fallout from me adding to our finger collection. I also want to know just how many people know that Lyriope is a Morelli.”
Harrison nods, glances down the hallway at Lyriope’s room. “I don’t know, man. Something smells off about this to me. I’m not sure keeping her here and getting involved is wise. We’ve never been one to fuck with Morellis. We stay clear of their bad side. Bryant Morelli will have our heads if we fuck with them.”
“I’m involved. There’s no turning back time.” I begin walking down the stairs leaving Harrison looking down at me from the landing. “Besides, she’s not really a Morelli.”
“For the record, I don’t think she should stay here,” Harrison calls out to me.
“Noted.”
Chapter Twelve
Lyriope
“Good evening.”
The greeting has me give a little jump as I see Nick sitting in a large, white leather, high-back chair. His long legs are stretched out, and one arm is slung over the armrest, a pile of papers in front of him. When he lifts his crystal tumbler full of rich caramel liquid to take a sip, I take a moment to study his face. It has only been an hour since I’ve last seen his threatening self, and yet his very appearance seems different.
He’s changed his clothing from what he wore at Wonderland, and the top of his dark hair is slicked back, highlighting the tattoos that are on the side of his head peeking out from the shaved area. Gone are the lines across his brow and the slightly pinched look to his mouth. He not only appears relaxed, but his very presence also screams male superiority and seduction all at the same time.
I feel my stomach flutter and force my mind out of the gutter. This man may be mouthwatering, but when it comes right down to it, he is also my jailer. No matter how beautiful my view, how pretty my room, how nice my clothing that now fills my closet, this man is just someone who holds the keys to my prison.
“Good evening,” I say, wondering how such a banal exchange can make me so nervous. I glance at the floor, at the ceiling, around the almost purely white room… anywhere but the man seated at the table. “You have a lovely house. It’s so… modern in design.”
When he doesn’t respond, I lift my gaze to him. As if that is what he’s been waiting for, he nods.
“It’s white,” I snap, annoyed that he doesn’t greet me the same way I do him. I was trying to give the man a damn compliment and all he can do is give me a slight tilt of his head?
