WITH A HAND TO THE small of her back, I led Alex through the main room of the Wonderland party until we slid behind the veil of the black curtains. Her eyes the size of dinner plates, Alex scanned the party like a lost puppy looking for the safety of her mother. But there wouldn’t be any comfort for her here, nor any familiarity to hold on to, and the sooner she accepted the differences, the sooner I’d know how she truly felt about them.
I didn’t speak as her gaze jumped frantically from one image to the next, but I felt my pulse quicken as her scrolling eyes moved past one of the pleasure girls—her legs spread, tits bared, Spade’s finger working her tight cunt for all to see—back to the relative safety of the bar in the center of the room, and then went back again to the blatant display of eroticism and sex.
Eyes dilated with pleasure, she watched, enthralled.
Though my view was very much different, a pixie face and perfect blond naiveté, I found I did the same. I was captivated by her presence. Pretty little Alex wearing the dress and heels I’d picked out for her was the most fascinating combination of desire and innocence. Between the seductive curves hidden beneath expensive material and the silky, bare skin of her back and long, svelte legs on display, she might as well have been a beautiful, naked, wanton virgin presented to my eyes on a golden platter. She encompassed everything that attracted me to a woman, and then some.
“Erotic, isn’t it?” I asked and she jumped, startled by both the timbre of my voice and the meaning of my words.
Her throat bobbed slowly as she forced a swallow and nodded uncertainly.
“You don’t think it’s erotic?” I questioned, my focus on her hesitation rather than her affirmative gesture. My adrenaline buzzed at the opportunity to toy with her. Her emotion was so raw, so pure. I wanted to hold it in my hand and study it for a while. I wanted to dissect each subtle tremor of her fingers, the thrumming pulse of her neck, even the slight gasp every time her gaze caught sight of something new. Fuck, I wanted to do a lot of things with this gorgeous creature, and most of them required a lot less fucking clothes.
“It is. It’s just…jarring.”
“You don’t find it natural?” I asked, putting a hand to her back and making her step closer. The pleasure girl moaned and writhed, her skin a flushed rose of arousal as Spade continued to play with her. Lou Diamond had joined them now too, feasting on her breasts and stroking his cock while kneeling on the plush red couch behind her opened leg.
Alex shook her head and nodded at the same time, her every nerve ending buzzing with confusion over what she’d been taught was appropriate, and the very opposite way she felt.
“That could be you,” I whispered, leaning into her back and grazing the shell of her ear with my breath.
She shivered—for about a millisecond—before bounding away and turning to meet my eyes, panic stark in hers. “Me? Do that? Like…right here? In front of people?” she stuttered. “No. No. Um, no.”
Excitement shot down my spine at her anxiousness. “No?” I questioned, careful to keep my tone reproachful. I wanted her to feel pressured—just to see if she could withstand it.
After a brief pause, she confirmed with a curt, determined shake of her head. “No.”
At six foot six and two hundred and seventy pounds, I was nothing short of physically intimidating. I was impressed by her backbone.
“Okay,” I agreed easily. Her eyes widened, and her plump lips parted. I took pleasure in her surprise.
“Okay?” she asked, uncertain, perhaps even untrusting, of my acquiescence.
“Okay. We’ll find something else. Perhaps something where they don’t touch?”
“Don’t touch?” she asked as I put a hand to the small of her back and guided her through the crowd, down a hall, and into another open room where a stage jutted up from the floor in the center. Several of our dancers moved to the rhythmic beat of the music, their breasts swaying freely as a transfixed audience looked on.
“The other option is a…is a…” Alex paused and dropped her voice to a soft and shaky whisper. “A stripper?” She was so hilariously horrified that I couldn’t help but smile.
“No?” I asked again, enjoying her unworldliness tremendously. I only wished there was a way for her to keep it. Desensitization was bound to happen the more she was around it all, and unexpectedly, I didn’t think I’d like it.
Though tremendously unlike me, I stayed patient, silent even, and gave her time to try to wrap her curious mind around the shocking surroundings that were Wonderland. I wasn’t one hundred percent convinced she wouldn’t attempt to dart out of the room, but eventually, she challenged my predictions further.
“Are there any job opportunities where I keep my clothes on?”
“Is that really what you want?” I pushed, trying to find how much pressure her backbone could withstand once again.
“Yes,” she answered swiftly, offering an explanation even though I hadn’t asked for one. “I’ve never taken my clothes off for money, and I’m not about to start now.”
Pride splashed throughout my chest. Not at the decision she’d made, but at the fact that she’d made one based on her own convictions and code. To me, Wonderland was about finding your true pleasure center, not feeling pressured to inhabit someone else’s. “Okay. You’ll cocktail.”
“I’ll cocktail?” she asked, but I ignored her.
“A little flirting and your sweet smile, and you’ll make more money in tips as a cocktail waitress that way anyway.”
“I’ll make more money in tips that way anyway?”
Her astonishment was quite comical, but I resisted the urge to laugh. I had more important things to discuss, and enchanted by her nature or not, I only had a limited amount of time to do it.
“Where do you live?” I asked, even though I already knew from her file. She lived in a shitty apartment complex on the outskirts of Boyle Heights, practically a goddamn hovel, but she was struggling to afford even that.
“Smith Garden Apartments.” Panic dilated the black of her pupils too late, as she realized the information she’d given up so easily. She worked quickly to backpedal. “Well, not for long.”
“Where are you going?” I asked in an attempt to catch her in her lie.
Unexpectedly, her face crumpled, and she lifted a shaky hand to her lips.
What the fuck?
I grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her out of the room, away from the watchful eyes of everyone around us and into the back hall. In addition to being private, the pounding beat of the music was muted behind the thick walls.
“What’s going on?” I asked seriously. I knew my face was set, but I didn’t realize the impact of my anger until she shrank back from me.
“Don’t be scared of me,” I demanded ridiculously. She should be fucking terrified of a man like me.
She nodded obediently even as she shook.
I worked to steady the pulsing rage in my veins and quiet my voice. “It’s all right. I’m not upset with you,” I told her to comfort her. For some fucking reason.
“What’s going on, Alex?” I asked softly.
“I’m getting evicted,” she whispered, one plump tear rolling down her cheek before she could stop it. I reached up and swiped it away from her jawline with my thumb. That one tear—her tear—burned like acid in my chest.
“Who told you that?” I asked, and her hand came up to her jaw and rested on the spot I’d just touched.
“My landlord. His name is Vinnie Pat.”
Fucking Vinnie Pat. A goddamn thorn in my side, always.
Without hesitation, I reached into my pocket and grabbed my money, closed in its stack by a sleek, simple gold clip. Sliding it off, I fingered through the smaller bills and into the center, peeling off ten large bills and holding them out to her.
“Here,” I offered when she didn’t immediately reach out to take them. I shook the bills, but she still didn’t move.
Too busy to wait for her to overcome this hurdle, I grabbed her hand myself, turning it palm up and closing her petite fingers around the money. “Take this. Use it to get current or to buy yourself something. I don’t give a fuck. I’ll be in touch with details about when and where you’ll start.”
“What’s this money for?”
I shrugged. “For showing up.”
“Matt, I can’t—” She started to protest, but I held up a quick, determined hand. She immediately shut her pretty little lips.
I had to quell the insane urge to lick a line across the seam of them. I knew if I allowed myself that, I wouldn’t stop there, but rather, sink inside the sweet warmth beyond them and get lost for an hour or too. Consequently, I focused on the task at hand. “You can, and you will,” I said, back to firm and decisive. “I don’t argue with people, Alex. You’ll take the money. Understand me?”
Her eyes narrowed, and finally, I allowed myself the pleasure of a laugh.
“Fuck, you’re stubborn,” I declared, and even I could hear the amusement in my voice. “It’s money, not a bomb. Fucking take it and go home. Give yourself time to process everything.”
She stood still, her muscles rigid, so I stepped into her space and grabbed her hip with a flex of my fingertips.
“Go home, Alex,” I whispered. Her body swayed, just once and just faintly toward me, and then, on slightly shaky legs, she turned in the opposite direction, her heels winking in the light as she made her way toward the outside world.
Down the hall and out, I followed slowly behind her and watched as she headed outside as fast as her heels would take her.
Damien came up next to me as she disappeared down the stairs toward the front door. “I take it it didn’t go well?”
I shook my head slightly, not taking my eyes from the place I’d last seen her. “It went fine,” I murmured. “Have someone follow her.”
Damien signaled Cal without question.
“She knows?” Damien asked, wrongly assuming the reason for having her followed.
“No,” I denied and then shrugged. “Maybe. But that’s not why I want her followed.”
Damien, one of the smartest of my men, again didn’t ask questions.
“Where’s Hare?” I asked, wanting Harrison March to be here for this conversation too.
“I think he’s downstairs,” Damien answered.
“Let’s go,” I said with a curl of one finger, starting in the direction of the basement. “We need to talk about Vinnie Pat.”
“That fucker is a problem,” he muttered, and I grinned.
“Exactly.”