by Max Monroe
Just like a fucking septic guy, I made a lot of money getting my own hands dirty so other people didn’t have to.
The Devlins weren’t into the hardest drugs or even the dirtiest parties, but Franklin had a gambling habit he liked covered up, and Kitty liked handbags too much to pay in full on their taxes. When you were in the top three percent, you didn’t want to pay taxes on that kind of money, and some tax exemptions only existed inside Wonderland Inc.’s books. Depending on the amount of money we were hiding, sometimes, a client’s cash would enjoy some vacation time in one of our many offshore bank accounts. In this case, with a child’s birthday the supposed front, we were only dealing with a barely six-figure number—for LA, mere child’s play. We didn’t need the Caribbean to babysit our money this time.
Our being here was both a show of support and a reminder of who allowed them to stay in this position.
Without us, they’d be fucked, and it was best for everyone if they didn’t have any trouble remembering that.
As a businessman, I spent most of my days trying to expand the number of people who felt that way. My dad had laid a lot of the groundwork in his tenure in my position, but he’d barely even skimmed the top of the barrel of possibilities for Wonderland, Inc.
He would have, though, I knew—if he’d had more time.
“…ole Charles King. Once we’ve got his ass sitting pretty in the White House, nobody will be able to touch us,” I heard from across the terrace.
What the fuck?
Charles King, one of the politicians in the race for nomination to President of the United States, and an important player in our next move as an organization, was a name I never wanted to hear this close to the outside world. People listened, people talked, and even our name associated with him in the smallest way could fuck us over in the future.
I swiveled my gaze from Damien and Hare, still ripe in the throes of ribbing each other, and scanned until I found the source of the name. Jay Pidge was gesturing wildly, showboating in a way that even I could see it from across the fucking patio. It wasn’t a stretch to think the name had come from him. Thanks to his Elvis-like good looks and an easy smile, he mistakenly thought he could get away with more than another average guy, and that often led to running his mouth about things he obviously shouldn’t.
This time it was to Eric Queen, who, unlike Jaybird, was smart enough to look uncomfortable with the setting of their conversation. He scanned the area around them surreptitiously, stopping suddenly. I followed his gaze to the back corner of the house, where none other than Sprinkles the Rabbit stood listening to their conversation.
I narrowed my eyes as Sprinkles started to move—toward Jaybird and Eric.
Eric’s attention was no longer on the rabbit as one of the sexier waitresses walked by, and Jaybird, distracted by his ego and a half-smoked cigarette, was oblivious to everything.
Sprinkles used their complacency to his advantage.
Scooting by and, to the casual observer, keeping to himself, Sprinkles moved past Eric and Jay and down the stairs into the side yard.
Unfortunately for Sprinkles—and Jaybird—I had a finely trained eye, and I hadn’t missed the lightning fast, supersmooth pick of Jay Pidge’s pocket.
“Everything all right?” Harrison finally asked, noticing my rapt attention and the crease in my forehead. It was one of my only tells, a facial tic I’d tried for years to control without success. Everything else, though, I kept locked behind a fortress.
“Fine,” I said, waving him off as I watched to see where the rabbit went before turning to face him. Until I knew how big of a problem we actually had, I was going to handle this shit myself. Because this was an innocent, though spoiled, child’s birthday party, and sometimes people other than me forgot how to be subtle.
Jerking my head, I indicated I’d be back and stepped away to follow the furry perpetrator.
By the time I made it through the crowd that was starting to filter back onto the terrace, past a still complaining Kitty, and made my way down the stairs, the rabbit head lay abandoned on the top of a picnic table, and everything I’d initially thought had been reworked.
Sprinkles the Rabbit wasn’t a man at all.
No, she was all woman.
Good Christ.
One arm at a time, she pulled the thick costume from her dewy skin and then folded it down from her shoulders. Her collarbone framed her delicate neck perfectly, and the tips of her blond hair fell down and into the nearly overfilled cups of her black lace bra. Her nipples weren’t peaked, the heat of the day and a nice stint as a fucking furry rabbit at a birthday party making sure of that, but the dusky rose color was obvious through the transparent material.
She shoved the loose costume down the length of her trim waist before shimmying it over her hips and stepping out of the pooled fur with one leg and then the other. Completely oblivious to my attention, she turned away and bent forward to pull her haul out of the white glove of her costume.
The cheeks of her ass were high and round, perfectly symmetrical on each side of the thin string of her thong, but I knew better than to let it distract me.
The key to being in a business like mine was never to let the physical bleed into the emotional. Skin, tits, pussy—it was all good for pleasure and sensation, but clever men saw its value as something else—something that could and would be used against them.
It really is a perfect ass, though.
I watched her hands closely as she fished inside the plush material, crossing my arms over my chest and one ankle over the other and leaning into the hot brick of the house.
Irritation prickled my skin at the carelessness of one of my highest-ranking guys.
Information and the ability to keep it secret was the backbone of our organization, and Jay Pidge, better known as Jaybird, was a fucking idiot. He probably carried all sorts of shit around in his wallet in addition to running his mouth in public, and after I cleaned up his mess here, I was going to make a mess of him.
Shiny cardboard glinted in the sunlight as it cleared the glove and landed with a plop on the picnic table. She shoved her hand back into the glove and came out with a lighter. Instantly, I recognized the custom insignia of Jay’s crest on the side as she set it next to the pack of cigarettes on the table. With impatient fingers, she opened the top to pull out a single stick and sank into the attached bench with her back to the table—and me.
She turned briefly to light the cigarette, redeposited the lighter to its spot on the table, and turned back away to fan her face. It was hot today, the California sun heating the April air to a balmy eighty degrees and sticking with little to no breeze, but with the minuscule amount of clothing she had left on, I had no doubt she’d be cool in no time.
Surprisingly done with the gloves, she picked them up and tossed them onto the ground with the rest of her costume and let her head fall back to soak up the sun.
That’s it? No wallet?
Did she really just pickpocket one of my guys for fucking cigarettes?
Fuck, no one ever surprised me. Ever.
I felt my face curl into a soft smile as the swells of her breasts heaved with her sigh. Thanks to my height, I had no problem seeing them over her shoulder. I couldn’t help but move closer as the soft tendrils of her ponytail fell forward and stuck to the sweaty skin of her chest.
Finally, after letting nearly goddamn half of the cigarette burn off on its own, she put it between her lips and inhaled—and then choked like an amateur.
ONCE I FOUND A QUIET, hidden spot—out of eyeshot from anyone in the party—in the Devlins’ yard, I all but kicked off the rabbit costume and sat my underwear-clad ass down on the bench of the Devlins’ ornate, concrete picnic table while I fanned my face with my hand. Thankfully, the eighty-degree air felt cool in comparison to that fucking costume, and I was finally moving away from the possibility of leaving this party in an ambulance.
I’d never been a smoker, never even really enjoyed the taste of
cigarettes, but today felt like the day I might actually enjoy the nicotine high those cancer sticks could provide. I snagged one from the commandeered pack and lit it.
One small inhale and three hearty coughs followed.
Yuck. Now I remember why I’m not a fan.
“Cigs taste better out of someone else’s pocket?” The deep, baritone voice came out of nowhere, and I jumped off the bench and to my feet.
“Jesus Christ!” I shouted, a panicked hand to my chest at the sight of him.
Thankfully, not the one with the cigarette, because holy fuck, that would have hurt.
He was tall and muscular, both dauntingly so, and he was standing just on the other side of the table. “You scared the shit out of me!”
“You should be more aware of your surroundings,” he said without apology, tucking his large hands into the pockets of his pants and kicking just one corner of his exotic looking mouth up into a grin. With a heavy brow and super intense whiskey eyes, his face as a whole was undeniably handsome. But with a scar that ran through one eyebrow and a jaw so severe it alarmed me, he seemed equally sinister.
But goddamn, he’s attractive. It was like his lips held the power to spin a web and ensnare me in a matter of a few measly words. I had the knee-jerk reaction of putting my guard up before he hypnotized me.
“Maybe you shouldn’t sneak up on people,” I retorted and, hoping it would settle my sizzling nerves, attempted to take another drag from the cig in my hand. I, of course, ended up coughing like a maniac again.
His strong mouth easily deepened its grin. “First time?”
“No.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course not.”
He quirked a brow, and trust me, when this guy raised a brow, it didn’t just call bullshit. It called it double.
But I was stubborn, and maybe a little reckless. I’d be damned if I was going to let him be right.
“It isn’t. I used to smoke in high school, thank you very much.”
I’d only smoked once when I was a senior, and it ended the exact same way. But, technically, that made me right.
His eyes were both searching and placating at once. Almost as though he wanted me to feel at ease with him as a means to better be able to strike. “Oh, so it’s old hat, then?”
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
His eyes ran the line of my body slowly. “Got a little hot in that costume?”
I glanced at the costume on the ground and then down at my chest, and my eyes went wide. Holy shit. My nipples are showing! If Kitty Devlin found me lounging around her yard in my underwear, she’d lose her fucking mind. That whole partial proration for being late thing would slide painfully over to zero. And then how would I pay for the fractured shins all of these little jerks had left me with?
I bent and reached for the rabbit costume, but so quickly I didn’t see it coming, his large hand wrapped gently around my wrist. “Please, don’t get dressed on my account. I’m quite enjoying the view.”
“Are you hitting on me?” I asked, and my gaze locked with his. I couldn’t stop myself from getting lost in the fascinating color of his eyes. Soft like honey yet strong like whiskey, they were a singular, mesmerizing shade away from every and any color I’d ever seen before. Truly unique. My stomach turned over as I realized how badly I wanted him to say he was flirting.
He shrugged. “That depends.”
“On what, exactly?”
“If I say yes, are you putting the costume back on?”
“Uh…yeah,” I responded. It’d be a little sleazy if I didn’t put the costume back on after that. Right? Fuck, I needed to put the costume back on anyway before Kitty found me.
Plus, my subconscious whispered, you do realize he can actually see your nipples, right? Just reminding you.
I guessed I probably should’ve been alarmed by that fact, but I wasn’t. At least, not enough to let it show.
Maybe the heat had finally gone to my brain?
The strong lines of his jaw softened in a way I believed impossible. And when his lips quirked up into a small smirk, completely different from his original menacing grin, mind you, I forgot all about my subconscious’s reminder. “Then, no, I’m not. I was merely making an observation about the generous view.”
I couldn’t not smile at that.
God, who was this man? He’d appeared out of nowhere. Maybe I really had passed out from heat stroke, and he was an illusion.
If he’s an illusion, Alex, he’s the best sexual mirage you’ve ever seen. The equivalent of an ice-cold glass of water in the middle of the Sahara.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“I don’t give my name to strangers,” I said. Jesus. I sounded exactly like one of the petulant kids at this party.
He chuckled and held out his hand. “I’m Matt.”
His amusement disarmed me.
“I’m Alex,” I said, and when his palm met mine, I felt overwhelmed—like anxiousness was consuming me. I wanted to let go and latch on at the same fucking time.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Alex.” He held my hand for a few beats too long before releasing it. “So, this birthday rabbit gig…is this your regular job?”
I laughed. “Um, no. Pretty sure it’s a one-time thing.”
He grinned. “Not a fan of the costume?”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I answered honestly, realizing for the first time that we were completely alone, and I didn’t know what he was capable of.
He was a beast of a man with trim, cut muscles filling out his commandingly tall frame. Short, mussed up dark hair highlighted his strength and even the slightly severe lines of his scruff-covered face.
I should have feared him. Rationally, I knew it. But my curiosity had always lived by a code of rebelliousness, and now was no different. He was the apple Eve had taken a bite out of in human form.
Sexy outweighed sinister. Appeal overshadowed consequence.
I bet he tasted so good, but was so very bad at the same time.
Seriously, who is he? I feel drugged.
“What’s your deal?” I blurted out.
“My deal?”
“Everyone at this party is either an actor or musician or someone extremely famous and with a lot of money,” I explained. “What are you?”
Like he’d flipped a switch, his smile was utterly wicked again. “I’m an entrepreneur.”
“Isn’t that what people say when they don’t really have a job?”
He smirked. “Some people, yes. Do I seem like someone without a job to you?”
I shrugged. “How would I know? I don’t know you.”
“Ah, but I know you.” His statement strong and sure, he actually looked like he did. Apparently, the muscles of his face were well versed in confidence.
But reason prodded in my mind, and I scoffed. “We just met.”
“I’m good at reading people,” he clarified.
I was both interested and agitated at once, a buzz starting at my toes and humming all the way up into the apples of my flushed cheeks. This guy thought he somehow knew me? I barely knew myself most days. “What’s my story, then, Mr. Know-It-All?” I challenged.
He tucked a loose tendril of hair behind my ear, and I shivered. “You’re a little lost,” he stated, his voice soft. “You haven’t always been, but you’ve reached a crossroads in your life, and you’re still trying to figure out your path.”
I fought to keep my face neutral. Jesus Christ, can he read my mind or something?
Fuck, I hoped not.
“You’re definitely scrappy, though,” he added. “Even when life hands you a pile of shit, you still manage to make it work.”
“And you figured all of that out in a matter of a five-minute conversation?”
The tiny gold flecks in his eyes twinkled. “Something like that.”
“I think the fact that I’m sitting here in my underwear puts me at a disadvantage,” I retorted, finally feeling the uncomfortable edge of nakedness
creep in. “I mean, anyone would think I’m either lost or moonlighting in prostitution.”
He shook his head. “Sitting here in your underwear is what gives you power. Don’t mistake the courage to fight embarrassment as weakness.”
I tilted my head to the side even as I stood a little taller under his praise. Something about the way he spoke made it seem so absolute. Like if he thought I was courageous, it was because I really was. “Then what was it?”
“What was what?”
“What gave me away,” I clarified.
He smiled, reaching up softly to thumb just the corner of my eye. And like a fool, I let him.
“Sorry, sweet Alex. If I told you, I just might have to kill you.”
I watched his strong mouth move with each word. When his playful threat was done, I directed my gaze toward his eyes, but I could only let myself stare into them for so long. They were too vivid, too knowing, too mesmerizing, just too much. I feared they held the power of the sun, and if I looked into them for too long, I’d either go blind or fall under his spell.
He slipped a business card out of his jacket pocket and offered it to me. My brain was too busy with my thoughts to question simple actions, and I ordered my hand to take it almost immediately. “Come see me. I think you’d find that my company is a much better fit for you.”
I stared down at the front of the sleek, white card in my hands and scanned the glittery gold words imprinted in the center.
Wonderland, Inc.
Matt Hadder, CEO
Matt leaned toward me, grazing the skin of my upper arm with just a tease of his hand, and whispered into my ear, “I quite like your fire, Alex.”
One swift inhale through my nose and I was assaulted with the scent of him. Fuck, he smelled delicious. More appealing than a bakery at seven in the morning—vanilla and cinnamon and something very distinctly him.
But before I could respond or ask the one million questions floating around in my brain or do something stupid like lick his neck to see if he tasted as good as he smelled, he was gone.
“MATT—”
“Save it,” I snapped, cutting Jay Pidge off before he could give me some useless excuse. The crack of my voice was harsh like a whip in a way I rarely used. Normally, I found calm deadlier than aggression, but not with Jaybird. He was bullheaded and stubborn and far too cocky for anybody’s good. He wasn’t just a danger to himself or me or even fucking Wonderland—he’d now endangered a woman who had absolutely nothing to do with us.
