Page 123 of Locked in Wonderland

He remained standing.

“You could have told me the truth from the beginning.” I hastened to add more before he decided I was rehashing an old argument. “Not the first time we met. I understand why you couldn’t then. But after I got here. You could have taken me to Victor on the first day.”

“I could have.” A pause. “I didn’t.” He kept his gaze fixed on the water. “I chose another path. One I can’t change.”

A seagull swooped down. It soared on an updraft for a few seconds before disappearing into the distance.

“So we just wait?”

“Until the boat comes, yes.” He jerked his head toward the main exit. “There will be too many people there.”

“That makes sense. How long?”

He checked his watch. “Thirty minutes.”

That was manageable. Less would have been better, but thirty minutes was better than an hour. The trick was to keep myself occupied. Anything to stop myself from staring at the door and wondering if one of the Harts would come through it.

I emptied the plastic bag into my lap. My phone was dead. Hardly surprising. It would have been dead before I left the nightclub on day one, and it wasn’t as if Percy and Lola were ever going to think to charge it. I dreaded to think how many missed calls I’d find once I could switch it on. Work demanding to know why I hadn’t shown up. Friends. Family. Had anyone reported me missing? So many questions.

I slipped my keys into my pocket and then checked my wallet. The bank cards were all there, as was a library card I hadn’t used for years. The center compartment, however, was empty. “Bastards took my money.”

Nico didn’t seem remotely surprised. “They’ve probably cloned your bank cards too.”

“Fantastic.” I sighed. “Will I get home to discover they’ve taken my furniture?”

“No. They don’t look up addresses. That’s too much effort.”

Every time Nico said “they” I got the distinct impression it was a last-minute substitution for “we.” I picked up a stone and threw it into the sea. Money wasn’t important. Not when I’d come perilously close to a far worse fate than being destitute. Anything would be better than becoming an abusive dickhead’s fucktoy. I could find another job. Earn more money. Besides, I wasn’t the only one who’d lost something. “You didn’t even get to pack a bag.”

“No.”

In true Nico style, there was no emotion behind it. Just a statement of fact.

“I’m sorry. That sucks.” The words felt woefully inadequate. “They won’t be sending your things on, I’m guessing.”

A sardonic smile appeared. “You’d be guessing correctly.”

“I really am sorry.” I let the apology hang there for a moment. “How long now?”

He checked his watch. “Twenty-seven minutes.”

Funny. Apparently, you could complete an existential crisis about losing everything you owned in under three minutes.

Nico slid his watch off his wrist and handed it to me. “Here.”

I blinked.

“Now you can stop asking.”

The watch was warm from his skin. Expensive too. For one deeply embarrassing moment, I wanted to lift it to my nose and see whether it smelled of his cologne. Thankfully, sanity prevailed, and I rested it on my lap instead. “Now you’ll have to ask me.”

“Or…” Nico said dryly, “I could simply accept that a countdown won’t make the boat arrive any sooner.”

“I’m nervous.”

“I know.” A pause. “You should be.”

“Well, that’s incredibly comforting.”