APPARENTLY, WONDERLAND, INC. DIDN’T JUST encompass the United States—it was worldwide.
While most of its “parties” were held within the elite homes of Hollywood, its clients were spread across the globe. Offshore bank accounts. Computer hacking. And friends in the highest of places. Expensive drugs and beautiful pleasure girls were mere child’s play compared to the corporation’s ability to make money disappear.
In the span of three hours, tucked soundly in the lavish constraints of Evan Saint’s home, I’d connected more dots than my brain could digest.
Tonight, I was his primary liaison. The hostess with the mostest. The go-to for Dr. Saint to ensure that tonight’s function ran effortlessly.
As ridiculous as it sounded knowing what I knew about them now, Wonderland, Inc. knew how to plan parties. In two weeks’ time, Evan Saint’s charity function had been planned, arranged, and executed. All with class, sophistication, and an overwhelming attendee response. Out of the three hundred people who were invited to this lush affair, only two declined. According to Matt, part of that was because of Wonderland’s overly extensive network of local business owners. Even Tony the butcher had things to hide. Go figure.
So far, things were running as smooth as butter.
Matt had debriefed me prior to the start, and even Cal had taken the time to show me the ropes and ease my transition into my new role. Thankfully, neither had thrown me to the wolves, and by the time the party began, I felt ready to dive in with both feet.
I’d stayed busy from the start, ensuring that Dr. Saint was happy and all of his attendees had what they needed.
I’d arranged for a pleasure girl to spend time with a CEO of a major corporation—which made their money off of baby products—after I’d received his million-dollar donation to help African children receive medical care.
I’d watched a famous celebrity make a hearty investment in the Wonderland drug fund. And I’d witnessed said famous celebrity snort her investment straight into her nose.
Nothing was off-limits, and the world was their oyster. To do and experience anything they wanted without the moral constraints of society. All the while, raising money for a good cause.
Playing the game by their own rules, the party moved on.
I’d helped Jessie Cat with her girls, served drinks to a group of prosecutors discussing the fact that it was usually better to make a deal with a criminal than to risk losing points on their coveted “conviction rates,” and I’d even assisted a prominent politician with making last-minute travel arrangements to a private beach home owned by a popular lobbyist group.
I saw and heard everything in my new role. And the more I witnessed, the more I realized that, when it came to money, nothing was off the table. Everyone was connected in some way. And owed favors were the lifeblood of the wealthy.
The good weren’t just good. The bad weren’t just bad. Everyone was human. Some just had more means to accomplish their goals and delve into their dirty, greedy desires than others.
“Matt would like to see you,” Jessie Cat said as I stood inside of the kitchen, making payment arrangements with the caterers. “He’s downstairs,” she added. “And he would like a scotch on the rocks.”
“Okay.” I nodded, and she grinned.
She bumped her hip softly against mine. “I see the way he watches you.”
I quirked a brow, and her grin grew wider. Secretly, I’d been wondering how much the people around us knew about how close we were—and how they’d react. But I’d been too happy to worry about it with any real intensity.
“All I’m saying is that Matt Hadder has never paid any woman that kind of attention.” She grabbed a fresh bottle of champagne and removed the cork with a quiet pop, hardly spilling a drop. “That man lived in shades of cool. Until you.”
“Should I know what that means?”
“A man who lives in shades of cool doesn’t let anyone break through his world. He stays closed off. Emotionally unavailable,” she explained. “But here you are. Inside his world. Matt’s exception to the rule.”
I stared at her for a quiet moment.
Was I really his exception?
And more importantly, was he mine?
When I’d first moved to LA, I’d daydreamed about my future, my perfect man, and I knew I needed a gentleman. Someone who would take care of me. Respect me. Treat me right. But deep down, I also craved a savage. A man who would take charge. Fuck me senseless. Make me feel dirty in the very best way.
Matt Hadder was both.
An exception…
“Men like that don’t come around often.” Jessie Cat picked up the bottle of champagne and a few glasses. “And they don’t give just any woman attention. Only the lucky ones, doll.”
With a wink and smile, she sashayed out of the kitchen on her stilettos, and I wasn’t sure what she wanted me to make out of her words.
Was that her version of advice?
Retired hookers aren’t the easiest to read…
She had a point, though. Matt didn’t just dish out his attention or affection on anyone. The man was charming, but private. Well-spoken, but closed off. To the outside world, he was an irresistible enigma. Mysterious. Brooding. But behind closed doors, with me, he was playful and open and honest. He teased me. Laughed with me. And offered a never-ending supply of affection.
Maybe I really was his exception?
No matter what I was or what Matt was or what we were together, I didn’t have time to focus on it. Right now, I had to concentrate on the party. And the next item on my to-do list was bringing my man a scotch on the rocks.
My man. I smiled to myself.
After a quick stop at one of the numerous bars inside Evan Saint’s home, I headed down the marble spiral staircase until I reached the lower level. I glanced around the room for Matt, to no avail. He was nowhere in sight.
Before I started combing each and every room for him, my phone pinged in my pocket with a text.
Matt: Outside terrace, sweetheart.
Somehow, he could see me, but I still couldn’t see him.
I quirked a brow and slid my phone back into my pocket. Once my heels reached the stone of the terrace, I spotted Matt, sitting on a lounge chair in a corner shadowed by palm trees. With no one else around him, the light of the moon highlighted the stark, firm lines of his jaw and intensified the honey color of his eyes.
“Were you watching me?” I asked playfully and handed him the drink.
He just smirked and swished the amber liquid around in the glass. The ice cubes clinked together as he took a quick sip.
“I’m proud of you, Alex,” he said, and my heart bloomed like a tulip inside of my chest. “You’ve handled tonight like a pro.”
“Wow…uh… Thank you,” I said quietly, my cheeks heating.
His smirk was reminiscent of the devil. “God, your blush makes me hard.”
I couldn’t stop myself from moving my gaze down from his face to his chest to the prominent bulge beneath the zipper of his black dress pants to check. Fuck, he wasn’t lying. He was hard. For me. I had the power to do that to him. It was a heady fucking thought.
I licked my lips. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to see if he tasted as good as I’d imagined him to. I wanted to know if he was still velvet and silk and unadulterated man beneath his clothes.
“Hungry, little one?”
I nodded.
“You want a taste?”
“Yes,” I begged, and I didn’t care how desperate it sounded.
He moved his hand up his thigh until it reached his zipper. Slowly, too fucking slowly, he slid it down and unbuttoned his pants.
I looked up at him, and I was aware of the electricity in the air the moment his gaze locked with mine. It crackled around us, and I couldn’t remember feeling this way with any other man. Perhaps this was what it was like when people said they felt fireworks.
I kneeled down in front of him. A tiny gasp emitted from my lungs when his eyes glazed over. It was like I’d just enchanted him, ensnared him with my gaze. I tossed my hair onto my back and rested my hands on his thighs, and I sensed his desire underneath my fingertips. The scent of his cologne drifted in through my nostrils, a scent I was quickly becoming addicted to. A tingling sensation disrupted my musing, and the tables turned; Matt’s gaze took control, and I was caught in his web.
This game of desire was intoxicating.
It wasn’t even about his pleasure in that moment. It was all about mine. And God, I just wanted to taste him. Arousing him, pleasing him, was merely an erotic afterthought. Hell, I felt like I could be Matt’s personal pleasure girl for the rest of my life, and still, it wouldn’t be enough to sate my craving for him.
“One taste.” He pulled his cock out of his pants. Hard. Straining. Mine. “But only your tongue.”
From base to tip, I moved the tip of my tongue up his length. He tasted better than my memories. Like smooth and velvet and hard and Matt.
I wanted him inside my mouth.
“Please,” I begged for more and stared up at him from underneath my lashes.
“Just one suck,” he said with a slight nod.
I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t give him a chance to change his mind. I wrapped my lips around his shaft and sucked. Hard. Unrelenting. Up and down his length.
I couldn’t help myself. One suck turned into two, and two turned into three, and I just kept going until he told me to stop.
He ran an index finger down my cheek and around the edges of my lips as I moved him in and out of my mouth. “Even if you don’t call a fire by its name, little one, that doesn’t make it any less of a fire,” he whispered. “So, call us whatever you want, but I know, when it comes to you and me, we motherfucking burn.”
I moaned at his words. At the feel of him inside my mouth. At the constant, unquenchable ache that had taken up residence in my lower belly, and before I could continue to satisfy my selfish craving, he eased himself out of my mouth and put his still hard cock back into his pants, zipping them up without another word.
I looked up at him with a little frown, and he grinned.
“Later,” he whispered again and slid a loose lock of hair behind my ear.
With my hands still gripping his thighs, I stood to my feet and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Later.” One tiny word that held so much promise. I can’t fucking wait until later.
I offered a little smile before striding back inside the house on my heels. I might have been a little dramatic with the sway of my hips, but under Matt’s watchful eye, it was all for a good cause. Later.
After a quick pit stop in the bathroom to freshen up and get my focus back, I made my way back upstairs to check in with Evan Saint. While I assisted him with more drinks, Matt made his way back to the main room and appeared deep in conversation with a few familiar faces I’d seen at other Wonderland parties. He greeted and chatted with the people around him. All of them watching his every move, waiting for him to give them the coveted attention they desired.
And the party moved on.
I served a round of shots to a band that was celebrating their latest album going platinum. I fielded flirtatious questions from a professional basketball player. I even helped prevent a dramatic, drunk woman from making a fool of herself.
And after I’d helped said drunk woman get into a limo and instructed the chauffeur where to take her, I headed back inside.
The party was still in full swing.
I looked around the spacious home and noticed Jaybird and Mickey Moosa standing off to the side of the main room, their eyes locked on Matt, who was still heavy in conversation. At first glance, I figured they were just waiting to talk to him, but when Eric Queen nodded toward the two men and headed downstairs, I furrowed my brow in confusion.
I glanced toward Matt again, but he was still chatting with the same group.
Jaybird gestured toward someone on the other side of the room. I glanced over my shoulder to spot Spade, Diamond, and Bobby Hart.
I’d come to know these men, Matt’s employees, so to speak, with each party I’d attended. And, as time passed, I found I was starting to understand their norms and how they generally acted during these types of events.
And, well, secrecy between Wonderland, Inc. men, especially related to Matt, was not the norm. Matt made a point to be involved in everything, and everyone else knew it.
One by one, and discreet as hell, the five men eased their way in the direction of Eric Queen. Downstairs and out of view. And every single one of them appeared very aware of Matt’s location.
Curious and more curious, I couldn’t stop myself from meandering downstairs too. I made my way through the crowd, while my eyes were busy figuring out where six of Matt’s guys had disappeared to.
But it felt like a fruitless effort. They were nowhere to be found.
“Looking for someone?” a deep, baritone voice whispered into my ear. I turned around to meet the hard black stare of Eric Queen. His face was handsome, really handsome, actually, but his eyes were so dark they felt truly evil. Like all of the world’s worst parts lived inside.
Fuck. I wonder if he knows I’m following them?
I swallowed past the uncertainty and forced my face into neutrality. “Nah.” I shook my head. “Just making the rounds.”
He raised a brow. “Are you sure about that?”
“Uh-huh,” I said with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m sure.”
“You know what I think?”
“What?”
“I think you should come have a drink with me.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not drinking tonight.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” he said and grabbed my hand. Before I could stop him, he pulled me toward a large bar in the back of the room where the five disappearing Wonderland men stood.
“Look who I found,” Eric said, and the guys smirked. “Alex wants to have a drink with us.”
“Actually, I’m good, boys,” I refuted. “No alcohol for me tonight.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Moosa—good old Mike McConnell—chimed in. “Matt put her in charge of the party tonight.”
“Interesting turn of events,” Jaybird muttered over his bottle of beer.
“Excuse me?” I questioned, and he locked his hardened stare with mine.
“I said, interesting turn of events,” he repeated.
“You’ve got a point there, bird,” Eric chimed in with a soft, devious chuckle. “Who would’ve thought that one pussy would be the reason for Matt to make shitty fucking decisions?”
“Must be one hell of a pussy,” Spade added and licked his lips in my direction. “What ya think, Queen? You think she’s got a golden pussy or something?”
“I know it’s got me curious enough to want a test ride.” Eric winked. “What do you say, Alex? Let me get my dick wet inside that golden pussy.”
“I think she should let us all take that special cunt for a ride,” Bobby Hart said, and I fought the urge to gag.
Sleek, pressed, designer suits and mouths spewing some of the filthiest, most disgusting words my ears had ever heard, they were a horrifying paradox of sophistication and crass.
I hated every second of standing within their group. I wanted to leave. Sprint in the opposite direction, but my gut instinct told me to just roll with it for as long as I could, until I could find the right time and reason to remove myself from the situation.
Eric moved closer to me, stepping inside my personal space, and I struggled not to react. He opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of someone calling my name behind us grabbed everyone’s attention.
“Alex, mind coming upstairs for a minute?”
Evan Saint.
Maybe he did live up to his name on occasion?
“Sure thing.” I nodded toward him and walked away from the group of Wonderland men without another word.
I couldn’t believe what they had said. That wasn’t just teasing. Or joking around. Those were harsh, vile, disgusting fucking words coming out of the mouths of men who worked for Matt.
Was that the norm?
Deep down, I knew it wasn’t. Matt wouldn’t tolerate that kind of bullshit. Hell, he’d proven he didn’t tolerate that kind of bullshit time and time again.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure how to handle it. A small part of me wondered if there was more below the surface than what I even comprehended. But all I really had to go on was the revolting words spewed from the mouths of drunken men.
So, in that moment, I made a decision, and instead of running to Matt, I decided to hold my head high, brush it off, and stay focused on the task at hand: Evan Saint’s party.
If something like that happened again, then I’d consider telling Matt.
But for right now, it was just words. Nothing else. Nothing more.
At least, that’s all I hope it is…