As she enters through the black velvet curtains entering Wonderland—my Wonderland, I hate that I have to share. I’ve never been good at sharing anything in my life. I want us back in Italy. Just us, under the Tuscan sun, never to be apart. No eyes on her. Not a single soul deciding if they have a chance getting in her panties. No one looking at her but me. Me.
If I’d have my way, I’d keep Lyriope locked in a cage with the only key belonging to me. She is the pure definition of perfection, and for some unknown reason, I was the lucky bastard who got the privilege of calling her mine. Even if temporarily. Even if she was mine in a fucked up way. Even if I had to take it. And yes, I most certainly took it.
I had purposely kept an open invite to every single Morelli to Wonderland. No hard feelings… at least on the surface. Come and play with me in Wonderland, motherfuckers. Come play. It’s my way of keeping my enemies close at all times, and it’s on my domain. Had I expected any to attend so closely to the Italy incident? No. So, to see her unexpected visit with Sasha doesn’t exactly have me surprised, just amused that this girl does exactly what she wants and how she wants to do it. Her balls are bigger than any thug at this party. I’m sure Sasha being the devil on her shoulder didn’t hurt in having her return to Wonderland. I’m not sure if I should thank Sasha or—
I notice my security—led by Harrison—are close behind them trying to be subtle, knowing damn well I didn’t plan for her to be here, but are going to do whatever they can to keep her safe. They know me well. I can see that Harrison isn’t pleased, but he wasn’t going to argue with me when I told Martha to let them through the door. After all, I did say all Morellis are on the guest list.
A black dress that shows off every single curve of her body has me paralyzed and unable to take my eyes off her. Not only does she come to my Wonderland unannounced, but she also has to wear a dress that tempts everyone to set eyes on her. Her shapely legs in those black and red-soled heels go on forever. Straight to that pussy I haven’t been able to get my mind off.
Her taste is like heroine to a hopeless junkie, and I shake for another fix.
She’s wearing pearls that hang to her lower belly. Pearls that symbolize the new life she’s living now. She’s no longer the poor hustler her mother raised her to be. No, she’s now the daughter of Bryant Morelli and though I see she’s not truly comfortable in that skin, my fingers twitch to take hold of those pearls and rub them over every inch of her body.
Rich looks good on her.
God, I want her. I want her again, and again, and again.
I’m tempted to repeat history and kidnap her, tie her up in my wine cellar, and parade her naked ass for all my staff to see that my queen has returned to the palace.
I want everyone to know this woman is mine, and only mine. Even if I have to take her again.