by Mallory Fox
“Oh, it’s only from Gabriela,” I croak.
“Not your handsome young man?”
“No, it’s not from Seth.” At least, I bloody hope not. Although, saving grace, this one definitely isn’t a dead bird.
“I wasn’t talking about Seth.”
I turn to Grams, my brow scrunched up as she takes a sip of her hot tea. “Who were you talking about?”
“The young man from this morning.”
“This morning?” I say, making a note to keep my voice normal and not breathless like it sounds.
She puts down the paper, regarding me with a look that would make any secret agent spill their trade secrets. “Don’t try to pretend you didn’t have someone over, young lady, I wasn’t born yesterday. Your mother had the exact same thing when she was your age; gentleman callers climbing down drainpipes in the early hours of the morning.”
“Who was climbing down the drainpipe? W—what did he look like?” I say, ignoring the sudden throb of my heart.
She shrugs and goes back to her paper, adjusting her glasses. “How the bloody hell should I know. Like any young lad these days. Tattoos. Ripped clothes. Not like my Teddy.”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Seth?” It sounds like Seth.
She exhales, shaking her head. “I may be old but I’m not blind. He was different, shocking hair. He had this air about him. Definitely not my cup of tea but you young girls enjoy that sort of thing.”
“What sort of thing, Grams?” I swallow hard, mouth drier than the Sahara.
“Oh, you know, menacing sort of air. Like he’d just killed someone and thoroughly enjoyed it.”
Chapter 2
Pearl
Where the hell is Gabby?
“What’s your obsession?” The words are softly spoken through the intercom after I’ve pressed the button next to the door.
I wet my lips and recite the password Levi gave me. Red roses. For a few seconds, the door remains closed and I glance warily up and down the alleyway. My driver has gone already. I don’t know who the person is that’s asking me the question, only that they are standing between me and gaining entry to the party that I need to be at.
Gabby is late by at least twenty minutes. After getting her answer phone, I decided that waiting outside in a recognizable car was not an option anymore. So now, here I am begging entry into an exclusive sex party and praying they don’t turn me away, in hopes of finding my elusive stepbrother.
A minute later, the door slides open and a girl in a white bunny mask, and not much else, greets me. “Welcome to Wonderland. I’ll be your guide for the evening.”
My stomach flutters as I step inside and look around. The reception is dark, lit only with red floor lights. I’m standing on a mesh-like metal floor. I’m relieved to see that my heels are wide enough that they aren’t going to get stuck in the grid.
The girl in the creepy bunny mask offers me a mask from a selection. “Do you understand the colors for the different levels of kink?”
“Yes.” Choose white.
I stare at them, almost lightheaded, for seconds longer than I should, and then hastily take the simple white one that matches my dress.
“Do you know the etiquette for communicating informed consent?”
“I do.” There’s a sour taste in my mouth as I say it.
She slips me a card with one word written on it in cursive ink. I stare at it blankly.
“To remember the safe word,” she adds.
Levi’s instructions were simple:
Choose white. Wear what you wouldn’t be seen dead in. Leather or latex… and heels.
But of all the places on the list Levi has given me, this place is the most insane. Wonderland is some kind of elite fetish party taking place once a month in the bowels of London. It’s so exclusive, it moves around so no one knows where the hell it is until they’re invited. How Levi got me and Gabby on the list for their exclusive New Year’s Eve party, I’ll never know.
What the hell are you doing, Pearl?
Why are you here, in a Soho alleyway nightclub all alone?
If I’m honest, I’m here to find Seth. Ever since Gabby informed me that he’d upped and walked out in the middle of lectures one day, since his grandfather has been sending me death threats, and now some psycho was spotted climbing down the drainpipe outside my bedroom window, I’ve been trying to pin my stepbrother down. The problem; no one knows where he is or where he went.
Rumors are that he’s back in London, but none of the staff at the Kensington apartment have seen him. Not that I believe he’d ever return there. Gabby’s spies haven’t been able to confirm the rumors either, only that he was spotted a few nights ago at his fetish club. She couldn’t tell me any more than that.
None of the businesses listed as owned by Montford International are deviant enough to be the club Seth mentioned all those years ago when he let it slip that he owned one. Sure, it was when we were both young and foolish, trying desperately to outdo each other, but he had no reason to lie.
Seth must own the business under a shell company, which makes me wonder what else he owns that no one knows about. Truly, the boy is an enigma. He’s probably not even going to be here. Even if he is, he’s not going to want anything to do with me.
Do you honestly believe that?
After his last stunt?
“So, what you’re saying is that I’m free to come back to La Roche?” I can’t quite believe what I’m hearing.
Chancellor Carmel pauses on the other end of the line. That he’s even bothered to contact me at home, in person, is a first. After the whole call girl fiasco, I’m surprised he even wants to be seen calling me.
“The board have come to the conclusion the evidence was unfounded.”
“Is that the truth or did my Uncle Benji threaten to take away your funding?” I answer sweetly.
“He did nothing of the sort.”
“Then, who was it? I’m not stupid. There’s no reason you’d let me back into La Roche out of the kindness of your heart.”
He lets out a breath, obviously pissed that he can’t just deliver the good news and be done with it. “Miss Darlington, I’ll be frank with you, I assumed you would know…”
“Know what?”
“It was at the request of your stepbrother we reassessed the claims being made against you. And I’m glad we did because we found no evidence that you were involved.”
“My stepbrother? He’s back?”
“This was before he departed.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“Just that he had some things he needed to tie up in London before he could come back and graduate. He’s fortunate that we allow our students to take sabbaticals mid-year.”
“So he’s coming back?”
“I should hope so, and soon, for both your sakes. Or I’ll be recommending that you and Seth reapply for the second and third semester next year. I can’t have students dropping out of classes as and when they feel like it.”
“Wait, Seth and I both need to return in January?”
“That’s what I said.”
I’ve a good mind to tell him where to shove it but I need to graduate if I’m to be taken seriously by the Darlington company board.
“We’ll be there,” I say curtly and hang up, wondering how the hell I’m going to find my stepbrother before the new term starts.
And if I even want to.
“Please sign. Then you may enter.”
I come back to the world of the living, or should I say of nightmares, to the girl in the bunny mask asking me to sign away all my rights before she allows me into the club. I take the tablet from her and scan the consent form quickly before filling out my details, ticking all the boxes and signing my name. I do it before I change my mind and leave. Gabby isn’t coming unless she’s already inside. I’m on my own. It’s just a sex club. They have strict membership rules and heavy security. It’s probably safer than any other club. Now that I’m h
ere, I also want to see inside.
Curiosity killed the kitten, Pearl. You’re going to regret this.
Oh well.
I follow the bunny into an elevator.
After a few floors down, into the bowels of the building, the doors slide open and the bunny girl holds them while I step out.
“Wonderland awaits. Enjoy your every desire.”
Then, she’s gone taking the escape route with her. I step forward and look down. I’m on a raised platform, above a descending staircase, overlooking a world of pure fantasy—pole dancers wearing angel wings, devils serving drinks and wearing nothing at all, every face covered in a mask. Scattered around are several four-poster beds all draped with sheer fabrics and filled with multiple couples having what I can only describe as sex orgies.
Quickly, I avert my eyes. The sour taste is back again, and I feel dizzy. I’ve no idea where to look so I concentrate on making my way down the steps, keeping my dress from riding up. Every part of me is on edge and ready to bolt. Why I let Gabby talk me into wearing a white leather shibari-inspired dress and the highest pair of silver heels I own, I’ll never know. Because she’s meant to be here wearing the exact same thing.
I get to the bottom of the stairs. A waitress wearing silver nipple tassels, a silver collar, and a diamanté thong comes over. “Lubrication?”
On the tray are three things; alcohol, condoms, and lube.
I give her a wan smile, select a glass of champagne, and shake my head at the other two. For this kind of place, and what I’m wearing, I need alcohol first and lots of it.
And then, I need to find Seth.
Chapter 3
Seth
Pearl is in my damn night club.
I can’t think anything beyond—how the fuck did Pearl get an invite to Wonderland?—before I’m staring back at her, open mouthed, dick hard as anything.
Her body is wrapped in a tight, white, leather lace-up dress with slits high enough to show off her luscious, long legs. Her kissable lips are painted pink. Her smokey eyes, catlike as they dart about behind her partial mask of innocence.
Against the backdrop of black and gold, she looks like a fallen angel banished to hell a long time ago. It looks like she’s completely comfortable in her own sweet skin, and completely oblivious as she glides through the hordes of the twisted, rich elite waiting and wanting to fuck her.
She’s a fucktoy waiting to happen.
This is not a place for her. Anything goes here and I mean anything. The moment you walk through the door, sign your name, and select your mask—you give up all consent. There’s only one reprieve.
The safe word.
And why the hell is she wearing white?
Your chosen color here tells everyone what you bring to the table. Black for the fallen. Blood red for the depraved. White for the pure and innocent.
Pearl is anything but innocent.
But here…
She’s a lamb to fucking slaughter.
I scan the rest of the security screens and spot someone skulking through the crowd behind her in a red mask resembling the face of a devil. From my office I have eyes on the whole club, and I can easily see her and the fuckwit that’s been tailing her without much effort. He has no idea that I’ve had someone following him just as closely as he’s been stalking her.
Hands inching to do the damage myself, I speak into my earpiece communicating with one of my guys on the ground in a Minotaur mask. “Take the stalker out before I lose my fucking patience.”
“I’m on it,” Darius says.
“Seth, you know you can’t take out every pervert here that follows your stepsister around. This is what the club is for,” Odette’s crystal-clear voice harps from behind, an annoying interruption to an already fucked-up day.
She’s right though. All of Europe’s depraved come here to play discreetly. The ones who have desires to do fucked-up things and have the balls to do it for real. They pay a lot of money to come once a month, to select victims from a willing crowd and do whatever the hell they please behind closed doors… or open ones. Whatever they prefer, Wonderland is their fantasy.
And Pearl Darlington just walked into their lair… and chose to wear fucking white.
The only way to stop some dirty bastard putting his hands on her is to go down there and do it myself.
Fuck it.
My eyes are glued to her on the screen as she takes a glass of champagne from a passing tray and looks around. After all these years, she’s still so damn beautiful. And still a pain in the goddam ass. I should spank her for even stepping foot in this place. Throw her over my knee in front of everyone in the club and spank her mercilessly until she creams her panties and begs for more. The lure of that is almost too hard to ignore. Almost.
Christ, why is she here? She must know this is my club.
After everything that happened to her last term, I decided to leave her alone. I was so hell bent on destroying her. Looking back, for Marcel to get involved, I went too fucking far. I had hoped me leaving would get Marcel to give up his games and give me space to think.
Maybe I was wrong.
If she’s here, it must be for a reason.
I give one last look at Pearl on the monitor to note her location before leaving Wonderland’s main office, entering into the long corridor that acts as the staff entryway to the abandoned warehouse hosting tonight’s event. Odette, in her own crimson wolf mask and red oriental dress, catches up with me. The first thing she does when she gets level is shove a simple black mask into my hands.
“Seth, all participants must wear masks, remember?” she says, breathless as she hurries alongside.
“How could I forget.” I roll my eyes but I put the mask on.
“Although, should you even be doing this? You’re not supposed to be on the floor.” She gives me a sidelong glance. “What if someone recognizes you?”
“Then they fucking recognize me.”
“But you promised Constance—”
“Odette.” I snap her name out so she glares at me. “I employed you here because you needed something to do with your inane life, so just do your fucking job.”
I don’t wait for Odette to answer. I leave her where she stands at the top of the steel staircase and make my down it. At the bottom of the steps is the main floor filled with club members in various stages of undress, all of them wearing Wonderland’s required colors and facial coverings, and all of them curious about me.
Newcomers always get attention, and old favorites even more so. I swore to myself, I’d never come down here again. Not after I fell from grace so damn hard and far, that clawing my way back up to the top was nigh on impossible. When Pearl destroyed me, left me for dead, this place kept me alive but it turned me into something I never wanted to become.
If it wasn’t for Constance…
That I owe the bitch for something still pisses me right off. She has no right to tell me what to do in my own club.
My club. Wonderland. A nocturnal playground for rich, fucked-up assholes just like me.
Ignoring the come hither glances of London’s underground fetish-loving elite trying to entice me into an offside dungeon or darkened playroom, I head to the secluded bar area where I saw Pearl last. The area is filled with velvet drapes and leather chairs, old fashioned lamp shades, and a circus of taxidermied animals. I pass through the menagerie and a slew of women in bunny masks delivering sex toys and tarot cards on silver platters, and take a spot by the bar.
A flash of white in the throng of people, I see her before she sees me. The only hint that she’s slightly intoxicated are her doe eyes, the ones that haunt me day and night, glazed as they pass over me in the crowded room. Leaning against the bar, I savor the whisky the bar staff know to keep supplying me with, glancing Pearl’s way to make sure she’s still there and all alone. It’s been a couple of months since I last saw Pearl. Just seeing a glimpse of her now, looking so fucking innocent and pure has the beast inside me raging to
be let out.
I’d forgotten how much she gets under my skin.
How much I want to own her.
One of the usual predators here, someone who pays a lot of money to hurt willing girls, has spotted her. She tenses as he approaches moving in for the kill. Her eyes widen as he inclines his head and whispers in her ear. He caresses her arm, talking softly, guiding her over to a roped-off area known as the All-Seeing-Eye Playroom—a closed off, not-so-private room in the middle of the club where members can watch the debauchery inside through spy holes. It’s a room he in particular likes to take new girls to break them in, much to the delight of the audience. One of my staff, dressed like a guardian angel, knowing he’s booked it out for the night, unclips the velvet rope to allow them access to the door.
Whatever thoughts were in my mind have dissolved into a sea of fucking red rage and I can’t contain it any longer. I knock my drink back and head straight toward her to claim my prize.
My earpiece buzzes. It’s Darius. I can hardly concentrate on what he’s saying. “—trash has been cleaned.”
“My exact words were don’t let anyone get within a foot of her. Why the fuck is my highest paying patron preying on her right now?”
“Want me to send someone to intervene?”
“No. I’ll fucking do it,” I snap.
In-between the gaps in the crowd gathering around the pit, Pearl’s agitated eyes settle on mine. I get to her and take her by the arm like I own her, much to the displeasure of the dickhead posturing at my arrival on her other side.
“Walk away,” I say to him. “This one’s spoken for.”
Recognition flares and Pearl startles for a second. “Seth?”
The asshole straightens to his full height. “And who the fuck might you be?”
“I’m the owner, now fuck off.” A rush runs through me as he recognizes who the hell I am. Closing his mouth that was hanging open, clearly pissed off, he turns and walks away. I doubt he’ll be coming back. I may have just lost an important customer. For fuck’s sake.
