Chapter 3
TALYA
“Excuse me, sir. Are you sure this is the right place?” I asked my driver as he pulled to a stop on a deserted street.
“Yes, ma’am,” the older gentleman replied, looking at me in the rearview mirror. “That’s the address you input as your destination,” he added, almost irritated. Like I was holding up his precious time by not darting out of his car the moment he parked.
Men.
My brows drew together as I peered to my right at what looked like an abandoned building. I might not have a lot of club experience, but shouldn’t there be a line outside or at least someone watching the door?
I glanced down at my phone to check my maps app. I’d been following along while he drove. One could never be too careful. Women were kidnapped all the time and even though I shared my ride with my sister—like I always did—it wasn’t like she could do much from the other side of the planet.
I frowned when I realized it was, in fact, the address on the invitation I had tucked into the smallest purse I could find on my way out.
“Oh, okay. Well, thank you,” I murmured before stepping out of the black sedan. I’d barely made it onto the sidewalk when he took off. My heart sank as I looked around me, waiting for someone with a purgatory mask to come out and murder me.
This is exactly how white people fucking die in movies.
I quickly pulled up my rideshare app to request another car, but strangely nothing was loading.
A gust of wind whipped across my skin and I mentally cursed myself for not bringing a coat.
I’d been too preoccupied with getting out of the house and not thinking about the stupid letters to realize I’d forgotten to grab one.
I closed the app and tried again without any luck. Anxiety coursed through my veins as I fought off the small voice in my head telling me that this was it, the moment when a serial killer murdered me because I’d been stupid to listen to my sister and go out alone.
Taking in a shaky breath, I swiped through my contacts to call the cab company I’d saved, only for the call to fail.
Great. Just fantastic.
As I checked my screen to see why, a deep baritone voice called my name.
“Talya Morrone?”
An unknown noise came out of me as I swung around and slammed my purse down at whatever was behind me.
More words were said, but all my brain could think of was how I would survive this.
In my spare time, I occasionally thought of escape plans and what I’d do if someone tried to kidnap me, but I never thought I’d be put in a scenario where it actually happened.
I knew I should have gone to those self-defense classes when Sammie suggested them. At least I’d do better than using a flimsy clutch to defend myself.
If I didn’t die tonight or live forever in a moldy basement at someone’s expense, I’d book a flight to London and murder my sister for putting me in this position. There was no way I could run in these heels and no one was nearby to hear me scream.
“Ms. Morrone,” whoever was attacking me said louder this time and just as I was about to hit it again, they rushed out, “I’m here to escort you to Mystique.”
His words finally registered and I paused mid-swing. My eyes focused on the man hunched behind me with his hands up. He looked barely older than I was and wore a tailored black suit that looked really expensive, his hair perfectly combed back.
But there was no purgatory mask in sight.
He carefully stood to his full height, his hands still held up to convey his harmlessness as he took a few steps back to put a safe distance between us.
“So you’re not here to kill me?” I asked, my eyes narrowed at him. Probably the dumbest question I could ask since no killer would say yes, but the words came out before I’d fully processed them.
His lips briefly quirked to the side. “No, Ms. Morrone. I’m afraid that isn’t in my job description.”
Was he flirting with me? Objectively, he wasn’t bad to look at, but I doubted he’d want to ask me out after I’d battered him with my purse because I mistook him for a serial killer.
“Okay,” I simply said, giving him a small smile.
“Right this way, Ms. Morrone,” he said, heading toward the abandoned building in front of us.
He came to a stop at an imposing black door I hadn’t noticed before and my gaze caught on the carved Mystique in a simple, elegant font before he pushed it open, holding it for me.
“After you,” he said in a professional tone, his body straightening up as if someone inside was now watching him. Gone was the smile or the flirtatious tone.
Taking a deep breath to calm my erratically beating heart, I walked toward him, but my steps halted when I couldn’t see past the threshold. “Wait, how do you know my name and why is it so dark in there?”
He met my gaze and his face softened. “We know all of our guests, Ms. Morrone. The lights will turn on once the door closes behind us. We do it to protect the privacy of our guests,” he explained.
This was the weirdest establishment I’d ever been to and I’d barely been inside.
My head was telling me to go home, but strangely, something about the mystery was surprisingly enticing.
I’d be the last person to step into the unknown, but fuck it.
It was my birthday and unless this man was a stalker, there was no way he’d know my name.
“Okay,” I finally said. “But you go first. I’ll close the door behind us.” He opened his mouth to, without a doubt, tell me it was against protocol or some bureaucratic response, but I plastered a giant smile on my face and added, “I insist.”
Hesitation flickered in his gaze for a moment before he sighed and went inside, holding the door ajar until I grabbed it from him. Then his body disappeared into the darkness as I carefully shut it behind me, my hand still flat on its surface.
Just in case.
I was about to call out for him, realizing I didn’t even know his name, when soft lighting slowly flooded the space around me. I blinked a few times until my vision adjusted to where I was.
My breath whooshed out in one soft gasp.
Holy shit.
I knew this was some sort of exclusive club, but it felt like I’d just stepped into a castle.
The ceiling was designed in a rococo style, with a trompe l’oeil oculus painted in golds and greens.
A bifurcated red-carpeted staircase framed the large entry hall leading to an upper floor while the gleaming black marbled floor with a large gold M inlaid into the floor in a similar font to the lettering outside shone like it’d just been polished.
I could practically see my reflection staring back at me.
“Come with me,” the unnamed—bodyguard?—said, pulling my attention away from my gawking.
“Yeah… sure,” I stammered, shaking myself out of my stupor and following behind him. More lights flooded the space as he led me deeper into the hall to another solid black door—minus the writing.
He turned to face me and held a hand out. “May I see your invitation?”
It took me a moment to register his question, still in awe of the space around me.
“Yes,” I replied, fishing it out of the purse I’d just hit him with.
I gave him a polite smile before handing it to him.
I wasn’t sure why he needed the invitation since he knew who I was, but maybe it was a formality to make sure I wasn’t lying.
Although after everything that had transpired so far tonight, I doubted he thought I was an impostor.
He grabbed it and with his back to me, he stepped closer to the door before swiping the black stock card over it. Puzzled, I raised a brow and tilted my head to peer over his broad shoulder to see what he was doing.
Before I could ask him, a soft whirring sound echoed around us before the door that had previously been there lowered into the ground.
“Ms. Morrone, welcome to Mystique.”