Page 30 of Locked in Wonderland

“What’s over there?”

“The Hart residence.”

Well, that made sense based on what I’d already witnessed tonight. “And what exactly does the Hart residence look like?” I asked. “Purely so I can avoid it.”

“Large. White. Difficult to miss unless you’re spectacularly unlucky.”

“Avoid the giant white mansion,” I said dryly. “Got it. Thanks.”

“And you certainly don’t want to go that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction this time.

“Why not?”

“That’s where the unfortunates live.”

“The unfortunates?”

“The people who came to Wonderland and never left.”

Goosebumps broke out on my arms. “Do you mean guests?”

“If you like.”

“Why don’t they leave?”

Tom gave a lazy shrug. “Some won’t. Some can’t. Some, perhaps no longer remember there was ever anywhere else to go.”

“That’s insane.”

“Most truths are.”

I stared at him for a moment, increasingly unsure whether he was genuinely helpful or simply entertaining himself by confusing me. Probably both.

“You could ask them yourself, of course,” he continued pleasantly. “Though that would involve going somewhere I specifically advised against. Some people do that. They see it as a challenge. It’s the contrary nature of human existence to treat warnings like an invitation.”

“Right.” I turned away again.

“And you don’t want to go that way either.”

I counted to ten. It didn’t help nearly enough. “Maybe,” I said carefully, “instead of listing every direction I shouldn’t go, you could try telling me where I should go.”

For the first time, Tom’s smile faltered. Not completely, but enough for genuine confusion to crease his forehead. It was strangely unsettling. “Back inside the club, he said eventually. That’s relatively safe.”

I glanced over my shoulder at the fire door behind me. It looked almost expectant, like it knew I’d come crawling back, eventually.

Yeah, right? Not happening. Round two with Zane and Zeke was low on my list of aspirations. So was accidentally purchasing another drink I couldn’t afford or stumbling across a screening room playing my impromptu porn debut.

”No thanks,” I said. “I’ve had about all I can stomach of that place tonight.”

Tom shrugged again. “Then I wish you luck. And I advise caution regarding whom you speak to.”

“Why?”

“Because not everyone is as accommodating as I am.” He tilted his head thoughtfully. “Most people here are motivated by self-interest. Their appetites. Their entertainment. Nobody comes to Wonderland for altruistic reasons.”

“Then why do they come?”

“To indulge themselves.” His tone remained conversational, and he still smiled, but something colder lurked beneath it now. “Pleasure. Excess. Fantasy. Wonderland exists because there are always people willing to pay for the freedom to do exactly what they want.”