“This is the address you gave me,” the driver calls out from over his shoulder.
“Wait here,” Sasha orders the driver. She then opens her door and looks at me. “Come on.”
I follow her out of the car, confused. I scan the area and can’t see how Wonderland can be anywhere nearby. Sasha walks straight to the glass door of the bakery and opens it as if it were midday and full of patrons. Not locked.
I follow her inside the dark building and inhale the distant smell of sugary sweet pastries from opening hours. The white tile floor has been freshly washed, today’s daily special still etched on the chalkboard behind the counter now void of any tarts, donuts, or macaroons from the day. There is a single row of cookies on the counter.
Business is over, and yet, a new business is alive in the darkened room.
I see a shadowed man standing behind the counter as if he’s been awaiting our arrival. He’s wearing a black suit, a tie, and it’s obvious he isn’t the baker. He appears just as out of place as we do in our glam evening dresses.
Sasha marches toward the man, her high heels clicking on the tile, with a confidence I envy and try to mimic the best that I can. I follow, but every step fills me with a sense of dread. “Sasha and Lyriope Morelli,” she says.
Hearing Morelli used as my last name rather than Bailey sends a shiver down my spine. A lie and yet… the truth. A secret part of me—that I’ve tried to fight off—loves hearing it.
Lyriope Morelli sounds powerful, dangerous, dominating, a name to be feared and respected. The Sidorovs wouldn’t threaten someone like her.
Lyriope Morelli wouldn’t be homeless and living out of a car.
Lyriope Morelli would be welcomed not only in Wonderland, but every exclusive, invite only event in the world.
The man looks down at a clipboard, glances back at both of us, and then speaks our names into a device that hangs from an earpiece to his shoulder. I’m holding my breath as I wait for him to call me an impostor.
My knees wobble in the too high heels that I also borrowed from Sasha.
There’s a pause as the man appears to hear something in his earpiece, and then he reaches under the counter and pulls out two cookies—one for each of us.
Sasha grabs both cookies from him since I clearly am paralyzed in fear and don’t move. She then spins around to leave, smiling at me as she does. Somehow, I convince my feet to finally budge and follow closely behind.
When we get into the back of the car, she hands me the cookie. “See? Fun, right?”
I hold the cookie in my hand and notice that an address is written on it with frosting.
Sasha hands her cookie to the driver. “Can you please take us to this address?” She then takes the cookie out of my hand and takes a bite out of it.
My heart stops as I stare at her wide-eyed. “Sasha! You don’t know what’s in it.”
I’ve been trained, as a young woman living in New York City, that you never eat or drink anything if you don’t know where it came from. Especially on a girls’ night out type of setting.
“We can only hope it’s something good,” she says with a wink. She takes another bite and hands it to me. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Wonderland doesn’t want their guests to be blitzed out of their minds before they even arrive.” When I don’t take the cookie, she shoves it into my hand and adds, “Relax. We’re going to have fun tonight.”
“Did you see the way the man spoke into his earpiece when you gave my name?” I ask, feeling anything but relaxed.
Does Nick know I’m coming now? Did he approve my name? Or is he allowing it only so that he can force me to face his wrath for daring to enter his Wonderland uninvited?
Invite only. He warned me that I wasn’t ready.
And yet… I disagree. I’m ready for anything he’ll throw my way. It’s better than waiting. Waiting and wondering when or if I’ll ever see Nick Hudson again.
Will he be angry? Will he make me pay? Or will he—
“Yeah, and I also saw him hand us two cookies. Not just one. So see? Using the Morelli name can get you anything. Maybe you should start thinking about that, and you wouldn’t be in the position you are in now.”
I freeze, my heart ceases to beat. “What do you mean?”
For the first time tonight, her face grows serious. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to me on your own terms, but… I know you’re homeless right now. I didn’t want to risk putting a damper on tonight by bringing it up, but I hate having this linger between us. I know your awful parents picked up and left, leaving you to… well, they left you all alone.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “There’s no shame in asking me for help, you know.”