Chapter Twenty-nine
The next few days alternated between periods of intense fucking, proving beyond a doubt that Nico certainly didn’t lack stamina, and stretches where he disappeared to show his face at work.
Boredom reigned supreme in his absence. There was only so much TV a person could watch without losing their mind, and Nico didn’t own a single book.
I had, however, kept my word and stayed inside the apartment.
Why wouldn’t I? There was nothing for me out there anymore. Not now that I knew everything I’d thought had existed between Warren and me had been nothing but smoke and mirrors.
Nico didn’t get home till late. Late enough that it irritated me in a way I found deeply embarrassing, as though I were some old-fashioned housewife who’d spent the day looking after the kids while I waited for my husband to return from the office.
We ate in near-silence. Nico had brought food with him, something that only needed reheating. No kids. No need to cook. I was a housewife with no chores to do. No wonder I was bored.
“What did I do?” Nico asked once both our plates were empty.
“Nothing,” I muttered.
I was still dressing in his suits. It was that or spend all day in a robe. Nico probably wouldn’t object. In fact, he’d likely consider it all the more convenient.
I objected. He’d promised to get me clothes days ago, but nothing had materialized.
Nico studied me. “So I just get the silent treatment instead?”
“Clothes,” I said.
He blinked. “Right. I forgot.”
“You forgot,” I repeated, making no effort to keep the skepticism from my voice.
Plucking at the front of the white shirt, I added, “You didn’t notice I spend every day dressed like I have a board meeting to attend despite never leaving these four walls?
Surely you own something else. At your actual home, I mean. Not your fuck palace.“
One eyebrow arched. “My what?”
“You heard.”
Instead of responding, he sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “What’s this really about? Because I find it difficult to believe you’re this upset about your wardrobe when the only person who sees you is me.”
The irritating thing was that he was right. This wasn’t about the clothes. The clothes had simply been the easiest thing to complain about.
“I want to go home. It’s been days.”
“I’m working on it.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. It’s not that easy.”
“You keep saying that. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“You think I’m lying to you?”
There was an edge to Nico’s voice that warned me not to push it too far. I settled for a shrug. Neither agreement nor denial.
Nico sighed. “There are only two routes out of Wonderland. The main entrance, which is monitored at all times, and the way you came in with—”
“Percy and Lola,” I finished for him.
“Exactly.”
“And what would they do if I turned up there?” I asked.
“They’d call the Harts.” Not a second’s hesitation. “They’re two of Wonderland’s most trusted employees. It’s why they get away with so much.”
“And what would the Harts do with me?”
“You don’t want to find out.”
“Why?”
“Because whatever they did wouldn’t be pleasant.”
I snorted. “And these are the people you’re happy to work for.”
“It’s complicated.”
“How?”
But Nico was already moving on. “Even if I somehow got you past Percy and Lola, then what? The only way off this island is by boat.” He collected the plates and carried them over to the sink. “Unless you’ve secretly been training for the Olympic swimming team.”
“I haven’t.” I watched him rinse the plate. I should offer to help, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Why won’t you ever talk about the Harts?”
His shoulders stiffened. Only for a second, but it was long enough. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Every time I bring them up, you shut down. I asked why working for them was complicated, and you changed the subject.”
“I didn’t change the subject.”
“You absolutely did.”
“The subject,” Nico said evenly, “was getting you off this island.”
“Yet somehow I’m having this conversation with your back.”
He stopped what he was doing and turned around. “Happy?”
“Not remotely.” I studied him for a moment. “How did you get this job, Nico?” His name sounded alien on my tongue. Surely, I’d used it before? If not in conversation, then in bed. I couldn’t recall an exact time, though, so maybe not. “It’s a simple enough question to answer.”
Nico’s slight frown said it wasn’t simple at all, which only piqued my interest more. What was he hiding?
“I should have left the collar on you?”
I laughed. “Right. Because then you could have given me five thousand volts instead of talking to me. Easier than changing the subject, I suppose.”
“There was no job.”
That wasn’t the answer I’d expected. “What does that mean?“
“It means I was born here.”
“In Wonderland?”
He nodded.
I frowned. “So your parents are here?”
“I never knew my parents.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
“Then how did you end up here?”
He abandoned the dishes to return to his chair, resting his elbows on the table. “I would have thought you of all people wouldn’t need that explained. People disappear in Wonderland. People get sold. People get bought.”
The implication settled heavily between us.
“I ended up in the Harts’ care,” he continued.
Something about the way he said care made me pay closer attention.
“What does that mean? They adopted you?”
“Not officially.”
“But you lived with them?”
“Yes.”
Things were slotting into place. Kind of. But for every question I got him to answer, it felt like two more took their place. And I was keenly aware that any careless words on my part might bring a premature end to the conversation. “Do you think of them as your parents?”
“No.” The answer came instantly. “They had Kellan. They never treated me the same way.
“Who’s older?”
“I am. By three years.”
“Did they treat you like a son until he came along?”
“I don’t remember.” Nico thought for a moment, as if questioning whether that was the truth. “I was three.”
Fair. “Kellan seems…” I stopped. It was a struggle to find a diplomatic description.
“Spoiled?” Nico suggested.
“Spoiled, right?” It seemed rather too generous given what I’d witnessed in the nightclub.
“He’s used to getting whatever he wants.”
“Even if what he wants is a person?”
Nico’s silence answered for him.
“What’s your relationship with him like?”
“We don’t really have one.”
“Hard to believe when you grew up together.”
“The Harts live in a big house. It’s easy enough to avoid someone.”
“He was probably too busy pulling the legs off spiders.” Nico’s expression never changed. “So one day you just stopped being a sort-of son and became an employee?”
Nico sighed. “I told you it was complicated.”
I thought back to the only time I’d seen him with the Harts.
It had only been a matter of minutes, if that.
He hadn’t struck me as family, but there was something about the way people spoke of him.
Different from the reverence reserved for the Harts, yet close enough to it that the distinction blurred.
Whatever Nico’s position was, it clearly placed him above the level of a normal employee.
I absently rubbed at the scar on my chest, thinking about the tattoo that had been there. “Do all employees get to mark people?”
“No.”
“Can all employees come and go whenever they please?”
A spark of amusement appeared. “I’m not a prisoner.”
“Then why stay?”
He frowned. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“You said yourself that this place is twisted. Why would you want to be a part of that?”
The amusement died. Nico turned his head away, focusing on the wall as if it contained something worth studying.
Seconds passed.
Then more.
When he finally looked back at me, his expression had cooled.
“Do you know what your problem is?”
I shook my head.
“You see everything in black and white.”
“And you don’t?”
The shutters came down instantly, making me regret the question. “Some things are black and white,” I said in my defense.
He stood up and left the kitchen, leaving me staring after him.
I considered staying where I was and letting him sulk in peace.
Then I muttered, “Fuck it,” and followed.
He stood at the living room window, gazing down at Wonderland’s main street as if the answer to something lay hidden among the revelers below.
His shoulders were rigid. Every line of his body said he wanted to be left alone.
Unfortunately, my presence in Wonderland already proved that I wouldn’t know a sensible idea if it punched me in the face.
I walked over and stood beside him. Close enough that our shoulders touched.
At least he didn’t move away. I didn’t look at the street.
The scene had become so familiar, so ingrained, that everyone had blended together.
The same people making the same movements day after day, as though Wonderland were trapped in an endless cycle of revelry.
It felt less like a good time and more like a twisted nightmare masquerading as one.
Or maybe I just needed to fuck less and sleep more.
“You could leave,” I suggested when Nico said nothing.
The silence stretched so long that I’d given up on getting an answer by the time he finally spoke.
“And do what?”
“Anything.” I gestured vaguely. “I still don’t entirely understand what you do, but surely it involves transferable skills. You can’t honestly tell me you’ve never thought about getting out of here.”
“This is my home.”
The certainty in his voice caught me off guard. “You want to live in an artificial dome where nothing is real—not the light, not the people, not even the damn weather—until the day you die?” Frustration lent my words a bitter edge. “What about travel? A family? Actual experiences?”
“What about them?”
I sighed. Talking to Nico could feel remarkably similar to arguing with a brick wall.
He turned his head toward me. “Your problem is—”
“Wow! Another one. I’m just full of them.”
He ignored me. “Your problem is that you’re determined to see me as a good person. You keep assigning virtues to me I don’t have.”
“You rescued me from the auction house.”
“I didn’t rescue you.” His gaze held mine. “I didn’t want anyone else to have you.”
The words landed like a physical blow.
“I’d already marked you as mine.”
That should have horrified me. Instead, my pulse kicked into a faster rhythm, and my nipples tightened.
My body had a habit of responding to Nico in a way my brain found deeply unhelpful.
I kept telling myself that it was the situation, that anyone would cling to the safest option after everything I’d been through, but I suspected it was a lie.
Nico swung away from the window. “Take your clothes off.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Take. Your. Clothes. Off.”
“We were having a serious conversation.”
“You were.” His gaze swept slowly over me. “I was thinking about fucking you.” A pause. “Not a good guy, remember.”
I wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. Unfortunately, my fingers had already started undoing the buttons on my shirt.
Nico watched with naked hunger, making no move to undress himself. “In the mirror room,” he said, his voice low. “Face down. Arse up.”
I kicked off my trousers to join the shirt on the floor. “Yes, sir.”
The words were supposed to sound sarcastic. Instead, they came out as if I meant them.