Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by M. Robinson

I scan the room for my father. Bryant Morelli is somewhere, but where? Would he recognize me? Doubtful. But if he knew I’m crashing his party, he’d have me escorted out before people could even blink. So, I’m careful to not draw attention to myself as I watch.

  I watch from afar, like always. It’s what I do. It’s who I’ve become.

  I’m hiding by a Christmas tree that is decorated with nothing but red roses on every square inch of evergreen. A smaller one that no one seems to notice next to the huge, glimmering one that forms the centerpiece of the ballroom. It seems only fitting that the bastard daughter hides next to the bloodred-colored tree. I’m here, but not really. I watch as the guests continue to arrive, grateful that they scored an invitation to such an exclusive event. An invitation I never received.

  The good, the bad, and the in-between mingle within these walls. Secrets, gossip, and threats blend with the music playing in the background.

  I’ve studied each person on the guest list. I’ve researched, watched, and learned. Being the bastard gives me one advantage. I know them, but they don’t know me.

  Bubbles of champagne blind all, and I’m out of sight which gives me the perfect view when he walks in. Of course, he would be a guest. How could you have a party and not invite him?

  Aside from seeing my father, it’s actually him who I’ve been excited to see.

  He’s notorious, mysterious, a recluse of sorts, and only the most powerful get to be blessed to be in his presence. He rarely leaves his mansion, but this is the Morelli party after all, so even he doesn’t turn down the invitation.

  His name is known in the underbelly of the dark world.

  “That’s Nick Hudson,” Sasha says to me, as if I don’t already know.

  He’s not a Morelli. Actually, quite far from it.

  He’s wearing a black pinstripe suit and holding a black cane with a ruby perched on the top. He walks in cadence with the Christmas music playing in the room. Tattooed hands, neck, and intricate tats on each side of his shaved head gives off an air of danger—and sparks the wannabe bad girl locked inside of me desperate to come out. I don’t need to see what’s beneath his suit to already know that he’s inked from every square inch of his body.

  I want to taste the madness on this man.

  And by the way that heads turn when he enters the room, I’m not the only one.

  He has an entourage of security flanking him on both sides, though from his very presence, it’s clear the man can take care of himself. It’s all for show… Nick Hudson can shred anyone to pieces with his bare hands if he needs to.

  But he never needs to.

  “He’s not a man to mess with,” Sasha continues. “His name, and his private club known as Wonderland give him a reputation as a man to party with, a man to have on your side, a man to work with, but definitely not a man to cross.”

  I remain quiet, not letting on that I know exactly who Nick Hudson is. I already know he’s one of the leaders of the underground, and he knows the dance of the devil intimately. And after learning everything about this man, I know I want to tango with his darkness.

  Maybe it’s because he’s the first person I’ve obsessed over other than a Morelli. I see someone I want to be in him. I want a name like his.

  A name to be respected. A name to be feared.

  Right now, my name—Lyriope Bailey—is a name that remains in the shadows.

  Forgotten. Not important. A side note.

  But not him. There is nothing about this man that can be forgotten.

  I’m fascinated with the tales and stories of debauchery that surround Wonderland. And though the Morellis are exclusive, Wonderland is truly restricted as it’s invite only for the few. I want the key. I want the pass to enter. I want a seat at one of his infamous tea parties.

  His eyes dart around the room, taking in each person. He lingers on some, nods at others, but when his eyes finally find mine, he pauses. He seems to stare longer on me than anyone else, but maybe it’s wishful thinking. Maybe it’s the Christmas tree I’m next to that has his interest, or maybe there is someone standing behind me who he’s actually taking in.

  Or maybe… just maybe… my own darkness is attracting his. Maybe my fucked-up self is a magnet to jagged edges.

  Maybe he likes the silver dress I’m wearing, and it’s hypnotizing him.

  Or maybe—and just like that, he looks away.

  “I need to go say hello to others and not stand here too long or people may question who you are,” Sasha says. “Promise me you won’t stay for much longer. Uncle Bryant will catch on to who you are if you keep lurking.”

  I nod as she walks off to join her family, but I have no intention of leaving just yet. My eyes haven’t left Nick Hudson, and I’m not sure I can simply pull them away.

  I see Nick whisper to one of his security guards, and then his attention is diverted elsewhere, and the bubble of hope that I’m the center of his attention is gone. A split second of lustful thoughts, ideals of grandeur, and now I’m just the bastard child… alone.

  I sip from my champagne and scan the room again. I no longer can see Hudson as he’s merged into the sea of beautiful people. Lights twinkle all around, and yet, I’ve never felt so lost in the dark.

  And then I see the grim reaper himself enter the party, his head going side to side searching.

  Fuck.

  The Sidorov family’s soldier is here. Maxim is here. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  Is he here simply because it’s a Morelli party or… could he be looking for me to collect the money owed?

  I know the answer.

  Me. He wants me.

  Well… he’s here for me or money. And since I have no money…

  He’s on the hunt, and it’s only a matter of time until he sniffs me out.

  Why did I come to this party? My obsession with the Morelli family is going to get me killed. I should already be in hiding. I should…

  It’s too late now.

  He’s standing near the only exit I’m aware of, and most likely he’s not alone. My guess is he’s already found my car, and has men patrolling outside just waiting for me to walk into their trap. He’ll do this in a dignified matter. No one is foolish enough to ruin a Morelli party, which is why I know they are going to wait for me to leave.

  Placing my flute of champagne down, I spin on my heels and head down a hallway. I have to find another place to hide, plan, and escape unnoticed. The music of the party and the laughter of the guests seem to raise my panic to epic levels. I need to think. Maxim can’t find me. Especially not here. I can’t have this all go down on Morelli soil. I refuse to let my blood be shed here. Not here. I don’t want Bryant and his children to know how much my family’s in debt and that I fucked up by getting us in even more debt but with ruthless killers as our debtors. Lucian has the power to save me. So does Leo. Actually… so do so many in that family. But I don’t want them to know what I did. I’d rather die than them know that I can’t protect myself without falling on my ass.

  Feeling as if he’s on my scent, I quickly turn into a room and close the door behind me. I know I’m trapping myself in, but maybe I can climb out a window. Or maybe I can wait the party out and sneak out after all the guests have left. Maybe Maxim will believe I was never here. He didn’t see me, so maybe if I just hide, I’ll be safe.

  “You felt the need to leave the party too, I see.” I hear a voice from a large high-back chair sitting by a roaring fire. A voice so thick, gravelly, and foreign that shivers run down my spine. “Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy a good party. I just prefer them to be on my own turf.”

  My eyes adjust to the dimness of the room, and I see Nick Hudson sitting in the leather chair sipping amber liquid from a crystal cut glass. A large mantel with an intricate wreath and garland masters the room, and yet this man is not dwarfed by the massive size of his surroundings. I can see now that I’m in a study that is empty except for him. He’s here.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, as my heart ski
ps. “I didn’t realize anyone was in here.” I consider leaving, but Maxim could be on the other side.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he says, still watching the fire, his ankle crossed over his knee. He seems so at home in the Morellis’ study. “Your life’s at risk as long as you stay.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, confused that he seems to know me.

  “You can run from them, but can’t stay hidden long,” he says as he raises his glass to his lips and drinks.

  Chapter Two

  Nick

  Fucking beautiful.

  Lyriope. She doesn’t think I know who she is, but I know who everyone is. I’m Nick motherfucking Hudson. It’s what I do. It’s who I am.

  Some people sell products. Weapons. Drugs. People.

  Me? I sell information.

  The private club I own is where I mine that gold. Every man who holds power in the underworld has had tea with me. Every woman, too. The Morellis aren’t criminals. Not exactly. But I know them. And they know me. I would recognize this young woman as a bastard of Bryant Morelli anywhere. But even if I didn’t, this dark-haired vixen nearly sucks the air from the room with her magnificence. She makes me want to claim her as mine.

  She freezes when she hears my voice, refusing to take a step forward. Does she think I’ll disappear if she doesn’t approach? Does she think she can close her eyes and pretend I don’t exist?

  “Lyriope,” I nearly growl her name. “Daddy doesn’t know you’re here.”

  Her eyes widen, she swallows hard, and then takes a large step into the room, no longer pressing her back against the thick oak door. She straightens her shoulders, lifts her chin, and tightens her jaw.

  Good girl.

  Don’t show you’re intimidated.

  Never show you’re intimidated.

  “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” she says with ice dripping from her words. I love her smokescreen even though I can see right through it. She walks to the chair across from me but doesn’t sit down.

  “Forgive me,” I say as I stand up and bow before her. I’ll play her game. I love games. “I’m Nick.” I reach for her hand and kiss the top of her delicate skin.

  Her eyelashes flutter as she glances at my lips on her flesh, and then suddenly snaps her hand from my grip. “Why would I be in danger?”

  Her acting needs work. She knows exactly what I’m talking about. But again… I like games, so I’ll play along.

  “There’s a bounty on your head. A very, very expensive one. Well done, my girl. The people you pissed off really want you dead.”

  She takes a step back in her heels. Heels I’d love to see on each of my shoulders as I thrust my cock inside of her. Her shapely legs quiver, maybe threaten to buckle, but she recovers quickly. Her facial expression remains as cool and collected as when she first readied herself to face me. “And how would you know such a thing?”

  She doesn’t lie to me and deny the information.

  Good girl.

  I detest liars.

  “You know how, my girl. You know.”

  Her chin lifts just a bit more, her eyebrow rises and the tiniest smirk surfaces on her pink lips. “Humor me and tell me how you know so much about me.”

  “You were discussed at my club.” I reach down for the bottle of bourbon I have waiting for me on the center table and then hand her my glass so she can drink from it. “Here. It looks like you could use a drink.” I take a long swallow straight from the bottle, my eyes never leaving hers, before I add, “Naughty, naughty. You pissed off some extremely vengeful and ruthless Russians. You’re all the talk right now.”

  Her eyes dart from mine as she looks around the room, maybe searching for her enemies to enter, but then just as quickly redirects her attention to me. She holds my glass of bourbon but has yet to drink from it.

  “So yes, my girl,” I continue. “You’re in danger, and even more so being in such a public setting. You and I both know that Daddy Dearest won’t save you.” I tilt my head and take her in from head to toe. Fucking beautiful. “So, why come here? I’m curious. I’m sure you aren’t on the guest list.”

  “I should be,” she says too fast. She takes a deep breath and crinkles her adorable nose for the briefest of moments, but then paints the Ice Queen face on once again. “I don’t see why this is any of your business.”

  “I made it mine,” I say with a smile as I drink again. “At least for the night.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I called off the hit for the time being. I had my men spread the word that you’re off limits tonight. You’re under my protection as long as you’re by my side.”

  “I don’t need your protection.” Her bottom lip trembles, and she bites it back. Her teeth… fuck I want to feel those teeth. “I can take care of myself.”

  “It’s only a matter of time until every hitman on the East Coast learns you’re here.” I clink my glass to hers. “And I have a feeling based on how you came running into this study, that you know Maxim has already arrived.” I walk to the heavy door, hearing the murmured voices, the clinking of champagne flutes, and the muffled music from the other side. Locking it, I turn to face her again. “You’re welcome.”

  The color has drained from her face, and her already dark eyes seem to blacken more. “How much was the bounty for?”

  I swallow back another swig of the bourbon. Such an ungentlemanly way to drink, but then I’m not exactly a gentleman at all times. “Tsk, tsk. It’s a celebration tonight. Why talk of such things that leave a bad taste in our mouths?” I lick my lips as thoughts of tasting her pussy run through my mind, down my body and straight to my hardening cock. “There’s so much more fun things we can do… and taste.”

  “It’s not my celebration,” she says, glaring at the glass in her hand. “As you already know. Maybe I wouldn’t be in this situation if—”

  “Careful, my girl. The way you speak sounds as if lemons are on your lips.”

  She huffs and then drinks the entire glass before saying, “Better than having shit on them.” She glowers at me, igniting a different beauty in her features. “So why would you want to protect me?”

  “Simple,” I state, approaching casually. I grab her empty glass and place it and my bottle down on the center table. “I want to fuck you before you die.”

  Her thick-lashed eyes widen, her mouth opens, but she doesn’t appear offended.

  Good.

  I hate delicate flowers. I like my women with the thorns still attached.

  But this is Lyriope. She’s got balls when it comes to trying to pay off the debt her greedy stepfather got her family into. Yes, she’s green, reckless, and never should have borrowed money from the Sidorov family with high stakes as collateral, but I admire her courage. She was naïve in thinking the Russians wouldn’t collect swiftly with no extensions offered, and now could die because of it. She’s over her head and trying to play in the big leagues. She wants to dance in a world she doesn’t belong in.

  But I do like that she tried to help her family on her own. She didn’t throw out her ties to Bryant Morelli to hide behind. She didn’t use the name to protect her, nor did she ask Daddy for money. In fact, quite the opposite. You’d really have to have your finger on the gossip’s dying pulse to know she was the daughter of a Morelli’s mistress. A weaker person would fall back on the name to save herself when things got messy. And man, oh man, did it get messy when she went to the Sidorovs for money rather than a Morelli.

  Pride makes my prick hard.

  A little bit of crazy—which she clearly has—makes it fucking throb.

  A smile forms on her face so slowly and so seductively that I consider putting my hand up her dress right this second just so I can touch her and see if her panties are wet. But I’ll control myself… for now.

  “Thank you… Mr. Hudson. But I don’t need your protection tonight or any night. And since I have no plans of dying anytime soon… no need for the rush to… fuck me.”

  Good
girl.

  Make me work for it.

  “The way I see it is,” I say as I close the distance between us, so close I can smell the sweetness of the bourbon on her breath. “You either have a gun in your mouth by the end of tonight or my cock. I don’t want to see your pretty little face blown off. But I do want to see those lips around my dick. So, choose wisely.”

  Most women would be shocked by my words.

  Most women would want to slap my face.

  Most women would be offended, pissed off, and snap back.

  Most women would be scared at the honesty and the reality I painted of their mortality.

  But Lyriope shows me she is not most women.

  “I’ll choose the gun,” she purrs as she darts out her tongue and licks my lips in one long and sensual swipe.

  She then turns and walks toward the window to look out.

  Chapter Three

  Lyriope

  Fear is toxic.

  Fear will destroy.

  I will not let it control me.

  I chant the words over and over in my head, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other as I struggle to breathe. I need air. I need to run, scream, rage. But I also need to not show the chaos swirling inside of me. I don’t need this man to know just how terrified I am.

  I’m aware I pissed off the powerful Sidorov family known for their ruthlessness. My stepfather spoke of all these deals he was waiting on to pay out. And even if they fell through, I thought I’d figure out a way to pay them back myself. I thought I could meet their deadline and their terms. And I know that hiding from them only made it worse.

  So yeah, I’m fucked.

  I don’t have the money to pay them off.

  I’ve missed the deadline.

  And I was foolish in believing my stepfather had a way to get the money in time.

  Did I know there was a hit on me?

  Did I know I was a walking dead woman when I entered this party?

  No. Not exactly. I think I’m in denial, or at least I was. It’s all clear now that even Nick Hudson knows who I am and my situation.