by Max Monroe
Unfortunately, he seemed immune to the power of my breasts.
“Here.” He shoved an envelope into my hands.
“What’s this?”
“An eviction notice.”
“But I’m almost caught up on my rent!” I argued.
He rolled his eyes. “You have one week to get out.”
“Wait…what?” I questioned, my voice rising to a near shriek. “A week?”
“Yeah. One week to move your shit out or I’m tossing it all in the trash.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me right now!” I exclaimed, crumpling up the envelope in my hands and throwing it to the ground. “Legally, you’re supposed to give me thirty days!”
His laugh was smarmy. “Well, I’m giving you a week, sweet cheeks. Seven days and you need to find another place to call home.”
“If I had the money for a lawyer, I’d be suing you, you sucky human being!”
He just grinned over his shoulder as he headed for the stairs, unaffected. “If you had the money for a lawyer, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and I wouldn’t be evicting you.”
“You suck!” I shouted and realized how stupid I sounded. “I mean…your apartments suck! I don’t want to be here anyway! And I’m canceling that fucking check. So…suck it, Vinnie. Yeah…suck it!”
The bastard didn’t react to my words. He just kept on walking until he was no longer in sight, and the stairwell door closed behind him with a thud.
“You suck!” I shouted again and then once more until I realized I was just standing in the hallway yelling at no one. “You suck!” I screamed at the top of my lungs just because and walked into my apartment and slammed the door shut.
I was certain of two things: Vinnie Pat deserved a good, hard kick to the balls, and I really needed to work on my comebacks.
Also, my timeline to figure out my next move had dwindled significantly.
I scrubbed a hand down my face and walked back toward the sofa. Deena stared up at me from her perch on the cushion.
“What are we going to do?” I asked her. She just offered a soft purr in response as she stretched out on the couch and started softly licking her paws.
“Jesus, now is not the time to kick back and lick ourselves.” I sighed. “We only have seven days to find a job and a new place to live.”
She licked at her paws a few more times before hopping to her feet and jumping onto the coffee table. Her long legs glided across the wooden surface until they stopped right in front of a familiar white card resting on top of last week’s issue of Us Weekly.
I picked up the sleek card and held it between my fingertips.
Wonderland, Inc.
Matt Hadder, CEO
“Come see me.” His words ran through my mind. “I think you’d find that my company is a much better fit for you.”
I had no clue what Wonderland, Inc.’s company purpose was, but I knew it was my only shot at getting myself out of this situation without ending up back in San Diego in Aunt Delores’s house.
I held the card to my nose and was quickly reminded of how fucking good Matt Hadder smelled…and looked. He wasn’t the kind of man a woman could easily forget about. Alpha. Dominating. The kind of eyes that held the power to drive a woman mad. His entire presence demanded to be remembered.
Before I could think twice about it, I snagged my phone off the coffee table, turned the card over and dialed the cell number listed.
Two rings and the word, “Hello?” practically rumbled in my ear.
“Uh…” Uncertainty clenched my gut, and I paused.
Was I sure about this? No, I definitely wasn’t.
But did I really have any other options? Not really…
“Uh… Is this Matt?’
“I DON’T LIKE SURPRISES,” I told Eric Queen as he straightened from the wall almost aggressively. He’d just learned that I’d actually spoken with “the Rabbit” at the party, under suspicion that she’d heard something about one of the biggest deals we’d been part of in years.
Apparently, he didn’t like being kept in the dark.
But did I give a fuck about that? No. I didn’t care what he liked and what he didn’t, and I didn’t care for his attitude either. Hands planted on the rich mahogany of my desk, I pushed to standing and leaned ominously toward the men packed inside my office. “So when I say I’m taking care of it, I mean I’m taking care of it. Does anyone have a problem with that?”
No one answered, but Jay Pidge, thanks to his freshly bandaged hand serving as a reminder of my lesson, shook his head enthusiastically.
I knew it was a good idea to force him back in line.
“When it comes to Charles King, you focus on the software,” I scolded Eric. “That’s where you live for the next three months. Got it?”
His jaw clenched, he gave a jerky nod.
He knew the software was crucial in our execution. Getting Charles King the nom for the presidential race wasn’t an easy feat by any means. But impossible wasn’t in my vocabulary. Everything was possible. Sometimes, you just had to get your hands dirty to make it happen.
Even if he dared to try, Eric couldn’t find fault with my instructions.
Charles King, a politician who had no moral qualms about selling his soul to the devil, was our ace in the hole. He liked money. He liked power. And the combination of both was the weakness we would utilize over and over again once we got him elected to the ultimate position of power. His longstanding debt of favors to Wonderland, Inc. would never expire.
Was it dirty? Yes.
Underhanded? Of course.
But no one got ahead in this life by playing by society’s rules.
My phone vibrated in my breast pocket, and I pulled it out to look at the screen. The number was instantly recognizable as one I’d been waiting to hear from for days. I almost hated how fucking relieved—and quite possibly excited—I was for her call. It felt like a lot more than trying to figure out if she was a liability.
One nod to Cal and he started to clear out the room.
I put the phone to my ear and answered. “Uh… Is this Matt?”
Her voice was shaky with nerves, so I kept my own soft and steady.
“Hello, Alex.”
“Wow…I guess you…uh…know who this is,” she stumbled, and I smiled, encouraging the lingering men in my office to move much fucking faster with nothing more than a nod. Damien Dormuss was the last to step outside and close the door behind himself, leaving Alex and me to our conversation.
“Yes. I know who you are.”
“Right. Okay. But…um…how?”
I could feel her anxiousness, potent and pure as though she were in the same room. Not many people were this honest with their emotions.
My smile deepened as I looked down at my desk and pulled her file from the drawer in the center. “I don’t give out this number to many people.”
“Really?” she asked. A little hint of wonder softened the edges of her already delicate voice, and I couldn’t stop myself from picturing that perfect little mouth of hers doing the same.
I shook my head at myself over how much I liked it. “Really. Now, what can I help you with?”
“I actually thought that was what you were going to tell me. All you left me with was a card and some mystery. What is Wonderland?”
What a fucking question.
“For the purposes of this conversation, let’s just say it’s a multimillion-dollar corporation with more opportunity for you than any children’s birthday party.”
“But why me?” she asked on a near whisper. The slight tremor of her voice revealed her uncertainty. “What kind of business is it, and why do you think I’ll be good at it?”
I smiled at her ability to question me even in the face of desperation. According to her file, she’d been hopping from one menial job to another for too long to have enough money to maintain any of her expenses. But still, she managed to be cautious. Not many people had the willpower. T
hen again, if she’d heard any of Jaybird’s conversation as I feared she had, she’d know she had reason to be vigilant. Reminded that this call wasn’t solely for pleasure, the crease in my forehead pulled at the skin until I felt it pinch. Like always, I worked subconsciously to smooth it. “The party business. It’s in your wheelhouse, don’t worry.”
Our parties weren’t exactly the same, but the memory of her curvy little hips and perfectly round ass reassured me that she’d do just fine. I avoided the spark of discomfort flaring in my stomach at the idea of sharing that luscious visual with anyone else.
“Oh. Parties?” Relief lightened her voice, and I bit my lip to stop my laugh. “That’s it? Wow. Okay. So, um, what do I need to do? Where do I need to be? Do I need to bring the bunny costume?” she asked rapid fire and then paused on a gasp. “Oh, wait. I don’t even have that stupid costume anymore. I had to give it back.”
Jesus. The bunny costume. Watching her face on Friday was going to be fun.
“No bunny costume required,” I demurred, closing her file softly. “I’ll messenger you a package with all the details you’ll need for Friday.”
“Messenger me a package?”
“Yes. You’ll receive it later today,” I confirmed to be nice. It wasn’t a habit I practiced frequently. Usually, I expected people to hear and understand me the first time.
“Okay. Um…”
“I’m glad to hear from you, Alex.” Maybe this wouldn’t have to be messy after all.
Her voice was a soft whisper. “Thanks.”
“Soon, Alex.”
“Uh…yeah…okay…Soon,” she agreed.
Soon she’d be tested. I couldn’t begin to predict the result, but I eagerly awaited the possibilities—especially the ones where she did well.
I tossed my phone to the surface of my desk and grabbed my jacket from the hook and slung it on my shoulders. I picked up my phone again and slid it into the breast pocket of my coat before strolling to my door and pulling it open. Damien Dormuss stood waiting.
“Well?” he asked. I shrugged.
“We’ll see.”
His eyebrows pulled together as I moved, and he fell into step beside me. One of my most prominent talents was reading people, knowing and meeting their wants and expectations before they even realized them for themselves. It was why I was so good in this business of desires. I was what they wanted me to be.
But Alex felt complicated all the way to the root. Her backstory, her current story. Her street skills—I’d never seen a pick as good as the one she’d done on Jay—along with her undeniable vulnerability. I’d yet to get a good handle on any of it.
“We’ll see?”
I cut my eyes to his. Wisely, he didn’t ask again. Reminding myself that Damien was smart, pointed, and almost never off base in his questioning, I gave him what he wanted.
“She shows potential, but there’s an innocence there. Virtuousness I’m not sure she can overcome.”
“How do you plan to find out?”
I shrugged with a smile. “By dropping her directly into the fire.”
“A party?” Damien asked, surprised again.
“In-house,” I explained. “This Friday.” The party was for the organization of Wonderland itself, rather than a client. There’d be less risk but plenty of debauchery. One way or another, Friday night, I’d know what I needed to about Alex Little.
DÉJÀ VU CONSUMED ME AS I stared down at a sleek white package with a gold bow tied around it. A mysterious note written in strong, all-capital script was taped to the front. Besides the address printed at the top, it was annoyingly vague.
FRIDAY. 8 P.M.
WEAR THIS.
-MATT
I’d received the package two days ago, and yet, I hadn’t had the courage to open it until now. This time, I had no idea what was inside, but with the teasing tone of his voice when I’d mentioned bringing the costume I’d worn to Lemon Devlin’s birthday party, it was safe to say it wasn’t a white rabbit costume.
Honestly, I had no clue what I was getting myself into with Matt Hadder and Wonderland, Inc. Big, exclusive events or not, he didn’t seem like the kind of man who just planned parties. It was unnerving. Everything felt so discreet, so fucking secretive and mysterious, when it came to him. There had to be more to the story than just parties, right?
Was he in the mob? The mafia?
Was there even a difference between the two?
Hell if I knew.
I glanced at the clock above my kitchen sink, and 6:00 p.m. glared back at me.
Time had run out.
In the spirit of saving my ass from falling into financial ruin and having to move back to San Diego with my bunny tail between my legs, I decided the time was now. Maybe I was asking for trouble. Maybe I’d gone temporarily insane. Or maybe my desperation to start a new life for myself had finally taken its toll. No matter the reason, I was going to see this through until I at least knew what Wonderland, Inc. was. Then I could decide whether to dive in or run for the fucking Hollywood Hills.
After a quick shower, I made my way back to my bedroom, and with shaking hands, I slid the silk bow off the threatening white box and opened it. The perfume-scented tissue paper rustled as I pulled the first layer back to reveal a black cocktail dress sitting on top of a pair of the most eye-catching, sparkly, gorgeous heels I’d ever seen in my life.
I pulled the beautiful black garment out of the box, moved in front of my mirror, and slipped it on.
The hem was shorter than most of my dresses, but it was easily overlooked by the fact that the front was simple and classic. But when I turned around and caught sight of the rear, I stared at the bare skin of my back with wide eyes. The back of this dress, well, it was downright seductive. The overall absence of fabric revealed everything from my shoulders to the bottom curve of my spine; it was blatantly obvious a bra wasn’t in the cards tonight.
In the reflection in the mirror, my fingers found the small tag nestled near my ass, and I flipped the material out to read it. Chanel.
Holy moly.
And when I grabbed the heels out of the box and caught sight of the red soles, my jaw nearly hit the floor. How had I’d gone from a goddamn Sprinkles the Rabbit costume to Chanel and Louboutins in the matter of a few days?
The answer was unclear, and I didn’t know if I should dance around with joy or fear for my life. I silently prayed it was the former, and instead of letting my mind wander toward thoughts of the latter, I set my focus on getting ready.
Like music to my ears, my new heels tapped exquisitely against the worn hardwood floor of the hallway as I walked into my bathroom and set to work blow-drying my hair. Once my long, blond locks were styled in soft waves down my shoulders, I grabbed my makeup bag and started applying a light coat of foundation.
As I began to line my eyes with smoky black, Deena decided to join me and hopped her fluffy black butt onto the bathroom counter. I paused between eyes and looked down at my nosy cat, sitting patiently on the side of the sink. With her little head tilted to the side and her ears perked up, she appeared intrigued by my makeup routine.
“What do you think, Deena girl?” I asked her. “Do you think this is a good idea?”
She simply stared back at me.
“I mean, I’m meeting some random guy in expensive clothes he sent over for a possible job opportunity,” I added. “A job that I don’t even know what it entails… That’s crazy, right? I mean, do you think it’s safe? It can’t be that dangerous, right?” I asked her, even though I was really just rambling out loud to myself at that point.
Deena offered no advice. Instead, she leaped off the sink and found a cozy spot on the bathroom rug to curl up on.
“Thanks for nothing,” I muttered, but she couldn’t have cared less. Her cat eyes were already half-mast and mere seconds away from taking the final descent toward sleep.
Eyes smoky enough for a forest fire, face set with power, and lips lined and glossed, I walked back i
nto my bedroom and took one last look at my reflection in the mirror. Dressed to the nines in designer duds and with makeup highlighting my eyes, cheeks, and lips, I almost didn’t recognize myself.
When I was a teenager, Aunt Delores often told me I was a dangerous mix of girl next door beauty and curves. I’d never really understood what she meant by that, and even to this day, I still didn’t understand it.
Sure, I considered myself attractive. I mean, everyone has flaws, little nuances they know about themselves that drive them crazy, but I didn’t hate my body.
But oftentimes, especially in this moment, as I stared at myself in the mirror, I felt more girl than woman. As if I weren’t really an adult, but still sixteen and trying to grow into my own skin.
My phone beeped with the warning alarm I’d wisely set before I’d jumped in the shower, and it pulled me out of my thoughts. I had two minutes to get moving or else I’d be late.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce that Matt Hadder probably wasn’t the kind of man who tolerated tardiness.
I snatched my purse off my nightstand and headed for the door with my keys and cell phone in hand. But just before I stepped into the hallway, I decided to do one last thing. With my heels quickly tapping a rhythm across the hardwood floor, I jogged into the kitchen and poured a week’s worth of cat food into Deena’s dish and set two extra bowls of water onto the floor.
She glided in and stared at the buffet on the floor before shifting her glare to me.
“Just in case I don’t come back home,” I explained.
I know, I know.
It sounds a bit crazy to leave out enough cat food to last Deena for a week, but should she really have to suffer for my impulsiveness?
Everything will be fine, right?
Right?
Jesus, I sure hope so…
The soles of my heels had barely scraped the pavement when Matt was by my side, taking my hand into his and helping me out of the cab.
