Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to destroy it. I promise you that.”
“Maybe you don’t want to. But maybe you can’t help yourself.”
I swallow the forming lump in the back of my throat, wishing to God that Nick hadn’t left us alone together. How long will he be gone, and will it be terribly rude for me to just hide out in our room until he returns?
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I finally get the courage to reply.
“I don’t expect you to say anything,” she answers as she looks over my head and nods. “But I do expect you to leave with these men without putting up a fuss.”
I look over my shoulder and see two men that I recognize from Wonderland.
The Sidorovs.
I look back at Cora, hoping to God there is some mistake. She wouldn’t set me up like this. She wouldn’t betray Nick. Or would she?
The men take hold of me and begin wrapping a gag around my mouth.
Cora raises her hand. “There will be no need for that.” She looks at me with an arched eyebrow. “Correct, Lyriope? You have no intention of screaming.”
My ears ring, and if it weren’t for the men flanking me on each side, I think I’d collapse to the ground.
“Cora,” I somehow say on exhale. “What are you doing?”
“These men have been looking for you.” She laughs as she lights up another cigarette. “A lot of people have been looking for you.” She inhales, watches the smoke leave her mouth in small circles, and adds, “When Nick told me where you were, well…” She shrugs. “You can see that I’m awful at keeping secrets.”
I have no idea what the Sidorovs are planning to do with me, but I know if I leave this villa with them, it won’t end well. I can’t. I have to fight. I have to get away, and yet, I’m not stupid enough to think I can match up to the large men holding each of my arms.
“Please don’t do this,” I say, trying to not burst into tears and beg. I need to stay strong. I need to pull the inner Nick Hudson out of me. “I’ll leave Italy if that’s what you want.”
She shakes her head. “No you won’t. You won’t leave Nick on your own.”
“I will if that’s what it takes for you to call this off.”
“You just admitted to me you love Nick. That’s all I had to hear to know that I’ve made the right decision. I need to protect him from you. I need to protect his heart.”
“Cora—”
“Now, be a good girl, and go with them with grace,” she says as she motions for me to shoo away. “They won’t hurt you unless you give them reason to. You are simply an asset to be used for an ultimate goal. Stay quiet. Stay obedient. Don’t resist.” As the Sidorovs begin to pull me away, she adds, “Just know I’m doing this for Nick.”
“He’ll never forgive you,” I spit. “When he finds out you led the Sidorovs here…”
“Oh he’ll be furious. He’ll maybe even want me dead. But there’s something you’ll never understand about this world, Lyriope. We all march to our own drummers. We all do what we have to do to survive. We don’t care what people think about us. We don’t aim to please. But there is no doubt in my mind that though Nick will never like what I did, he’ll ultimately understand why I did it.”
“You’re fucking crazy if you think he won’t kill you for this.”
She laughs. “Oh yes. I’m crazy. I’m absolutely mad. But that’s what makes me so fucking interesting.” She laughs again and motions for the men to take me away.
Chapter Twenty
Nick
Pinstripe red and black Valentino is the attire for the night. I represent gothic power as I march my way to the event of the year. I feel devilish prestige flow through my veins as I soak in the pureness of the Vatican before walking down the secret chamber toward the bomb shelter. My sinful world is merging with the ancient heavens, and I know right then and there that I may never be able to top this Wonderland ever again.
Everything about Wonderland has been executed to perfection. White roses everywhere with droplets of blood splattered about. It’s not gory or even morbid, but rather quite beautiful. Almost whimsical in appearance. Glitter falls from the extra lighting we had installed to give off a more magical vibe. We have the aroma of a blend of ivy, violet leaf, rose, pink pepper, and ambrette pumped into the room to hide the smell of musk and dank.
It smells like Italy.
It reeks of entitled wealth.
It oozes of absolute decadence, and I fucking love it.
There’s something that screams wealth and prestige about partying in a structure that sits beneath the Pope. Guests have to walk through columns of Roman statues and Catholic antiquities to enter the bomb shelter that literally raises the hairs on my arms as I make my way to the room.