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“And let me guess. You’re a momma’s boy? Are you drowning in all the love from mommy and daddy? Were you blessed with nightly dinners around the table? Well, not everyone is so lucky.”
He leans back in his chair, his face completely emotionless.
“Birthdays are nothing but an exhibit,” he continues, ignoring my statement. “A chance to show off. It’s a display of how much they love their child to all the parents of the other children, to the family members that attend and so on. It’s about revealing what you can afford, and what magic you can create in an event.”
“So you do Wonderland to show off.”
“Yes. And wouldn’t you agree I do it well?”
“I wouldn’t really know. I don’t go to nightclubs and parties often enough to compare.”
He leans in toward me ever so slightly. “You enjoyed what you saw last night, yes? Until the night took a turn, you were in awe, were you not?”
“Yes.” I return my attention to my chicken, feeling completely out of my league.
“That’s my goal. To create awe,” he says, also turning his attention to his plate of food. “I also use the opportunity of having the richest, the famous, the most powerful all gathered in one area to my advantage. I conduct business meetings, or as I like to call them in Wonderland—tea parties. But that’s just a euphemism for what are really egomaniacs all sitting around a table.”
“Do you ever kill people?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
He pauses, studies me for several moments. “When I have to.”
I raise my brow and feel the chicken I just ate stuck in the back of my throat. “When you have to?”
“Yes.”
I take a sip of the wine, clear my throat, and ask, “When can I call my brother and Sasha?”
“After dinner.”
“We’ll go into my study, sign a contract,” he says with a wicked smile and a glimmer in his eye, “and then you can make the calls.”
“Contract?”
“I’m a businessman, Lyriope. I always sign contracts.” Although the way he says the last words are far from serious or businesslike. There’s mischief in the tone and devilment in the feeling.
Chapter Thirteen
Nick
“Before we make the calls, we’re going to sign a contract.”
“Okay,” she says as I watch her visibly stand straighter and pull her shoulders back. I do admire how hard she tries to appear strong when I know deep down she’s a scared little girl. “What are the terms?”
“Well as you remember at the Morelli party, the agreement was I would help you out of your mess with the Sidorovs for the price of fucking you. I wanted to fuck you before you died.”
“I remember.”
“And I haven’t yet,” I say as I pull out a contract I had drawn up while she was locked up in my wine cellar. “I still plan on fucking you. In fact, the contract states that you are to live here, at my beck and call, following my rules, until your virginity is claimed by me.”
“And when is that going to happen?” she asks as she steps closer to my desk, her eyes looking down at the contract.
“When I decide the time is right.”
She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms against her chest. “Thirty days,” she states with a bravado—though fake—I’ve come to respect. “I’m yours for thirty days, but afterwards, I’m free to go with your help, making sure that my family and I are safe.”
I laugh as I sit down in my large white leather chair. “You’re a funny girl. You actually think I brought you into my study to negotiate?” I laugh again. “You are in zero position to negotiate.”
“You can’t just expect me to be at your mercy for an unknown amount of time. There has to be an end date.”
I shake my head. “No, there doesn’t. The contract states that your body, your everything is mine until I fully claim it. At which time we will renegotiate the terms and come to a new arrangement. But for now, the contract is very simple. You are mine until I claim you fully.”
“And if I don’t sign this?”
I laugh again. “Come now, Lyriope. We both know I don’t need this contract. I’m simply adding it to the mix for… fun.”
“Fun?”
“Oh yes. Fun.” Wicked thoughts run through my head, and though I want to act on each one now, I also want to take my time. I want to savor this delicacy before me.
I push back my chair from the desk, and stare at her, taking in her beauty. She truly is a stunning woman. Oh yes. I’m going to enjoy my time with my house guest.
“Come stand in front of me,” I order.
I watch her eyes widen, her tongue darting out of her mouth to lick her dry lips, and then her tiny steps make their way to where I sit.
