Page 145 of Locked in Wonderland

He laughed softly as he leaned over to drop the newspaper on the floor beside the sofa. “Would it surprise you if I told you I’d been siphoning off some of the Harts’ money into offshore accounts for years?”

I considered it. “No. I’d probably think anyone who didn’t do that was an idiot.”

A memory chose that moment to rear its ugly head. Considering what I’d just learned, it was one I’d rather have forgotten. ”You must have found it hilarious when I invited you to come and live with me.”

“I didn’t.”

“No?”

“I found it…” He frowned, as if searching for the right word. “Endearing.”

“Endearing. Right.” I picked at the loose thread again. “So this is your plan? Just keep moving?”

He nodded. “There are so many places in the world to see. And in answer to your question, I’m unlikely to run out of money anytime soon.”

I studied my hands. “And I’m supposed to do what? Just go home and forget about you?” The question came out quieter than I’d intended, my pulse racing.

He swung his legs off the sofa and planted his feet on the carpet, forearms resting on his thighs. “If you’re waiting for an invitation, you don’t need one.”

I looked up. “No?”

He gave a slight shake of his head.

“So… you want me to come with you?”

“I wouldn’t have let you catch me if I didn’t.”

Fireworks went off in my chest. “So I matter to you?”

A look of amused disbelief crossed his face. “What exactly are you waiting for, Lysander? Do you want me to say I love you?”

My fingers curled into my palms. “Not if it isn’t true.”

He looked at me for a long moment. “Of course it’s true.” His tone suggested I was being unusually slow. “Once upon a time, I met a man. A man who, I should point out, was completely preoccupied with someone else. I kept him safe and made certain nobody else could have him.” He grimaced. “Admittedly, I also took shameless advantage of the situation.”

“You did.”

“But by Wonderland standards, I was remarkably protective.”

“But you never said the words,” I pointed out.

“What happened to actions speaking louder than words?”

“I like words.”

“You would.” He sighed with theatrical resignation. “I love you.” A pause. “There. Are you happy now?”

I couldn’t stop smiling. “Very.”

“You should know,” he continued, “that my love comes with certain expectations.”

“Such as?”

“Not even looking at other men. Being possessive is one of my many failings.”

“I’m not interested in other men. Why would I look at them when I’ve got you to look at?”

“Frequent sex.”