Chapter 4
TALYA
The moment the door pulled shut behind me, it felt like I’d just been swallowed into a decadent secrecy.
The room spread in front of me was drenched in a deep, velvety red that seemed to glow under the soft flicker of golden lights. Dark polished wooden floors gleamed in contrast to the scarlet tones, and the golden accents on the light fixtures and bar tied it all together.
This place must have cost a fortune because holy fuck. I didn’t know much about clubs and what it took to build them, but I’d renovated the entire office space I’d bought for Roots and I was still paying for the loan I’d taken to make it happen.
My gaze roamed around the darkened atmosphere, taking in the numerous low-set tables and booths situated around the club.
Sheer curtains hung throughout the room to separate what looked like sections.
Most were occupied by couples or groups sharing a drink, but as I surveyed the space, my gaze caught movement in a booth at the far end of the room, where a woman dressed in a tight leather jumpsuit was practically riding the man beneath her.
Heat crept up my cheeks as I swiftly looked away. What the fuck did I walk into? The unnamed man who had scared the shit out of me and escorted me inside before disappearing God knows where had recited some rules, but I’d been too distracted to make out more than something about matching.
Normally, I’d turn around and walk out right now. I had an inkling that this wasn’t just a club, but I’d spent too much time getting ready and the image of those stupid letters piled on the floor of my bedroom was enough to convince me to stay.
Despite my growing sense of discomfort and the few stares I felt lingering on my body, I headed toward the bar.
Finding an empty barstool, I placed my purse on the counter and took a seat, keeping my back to the room.
Seeing one couple in the throes of wild passion was enough for one night.
So I’d sit here with my thoughts—even though that was probably worse—until it was reasonable to leave.
The purple-haired bartender immediately appeared to take my order and swiftly came back with my espresso martini.
The previously sultry music switched to a familiar tune, so I hummed and swayed along as I sipped on the sweet concoction.
I made eye contact a few times with the busy bartender, but for once, I didn’t care.
It was either this or watching people nearly fuck each other and that wasn’t exactly my birthday wish.
I’d barely made it through my first drink when a man came to stand beside me. I didn’t think much of it as he stole the bartender’s attention to order himself a glass of whiskey, but the moment she walked away to prepare his drink, his attention zeroed in on me.
“First time?” he asked, his fingers gently tapping against the bar surface.
I turned to face him, my gaze sailing over the stranger.
A Batman mask covered most of his face, but from the little I could see, he was handsome.
His dark features were sharp, he smelled clean—which was a breath of fresh air from the overpowering cologne most men drenched themselves in—and judging by the Patek Philippe on his wrist, he either came from money or did well for himself.
Which didn’t surprise me, considering everyone I’d seen so far, despite being dressed up for Halloween, had money written all over their outfits.
“How could you tell?”
“I would have definitely remembered a face like yours,” he replied, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
I leaned in and he followed suit, thinking he’d captured my attention. Men were too easy. “Does that usually work for you?” I asked before pulling back and taking another sip of my martini.
He shrugged, a dashing smile lingering on his lips. “Hasn’t failed me before,” he said, holding out his hand. “Andrew.”
“Talya.”
I expected him to shake my hand, but to my surprise, he raised it and placed a soft kiss to my knuckles.
Sure, it was cheesy, but it didn’t stop the blush blooming on my cheeks.
His lips lingered for an extra second before he released my hand.
Unsure what to do with it, I brought it back to play with the stem of my glass.
The bartender came back with his drink, and he took a small sip of his whiskey before leaning against the bar and angling his body closer to me.
“So, Talya, what brings you to Mystique?”
I wasn’t shy or unfamiliar with male attention, but I hadn’t been in the dating scene in a very long time.
The last date I went on was almost six months ago and we all know how that ended.
Besides, I was constantly busy with the shop and quite frankly, the pool of men out there wasn’t particularly appealing.
Everything in me wanted to excuse myself and leave, but the ghost of my sister’s voice pestering me about having fun and being more open kept me in place. He was good-looking and didn’t emanate creepy vibes. So fuck it, what did I have to lose?
“Would you believe me if I said my sister forced me to come here because she didn’t think it was dignified for me to spend my twenty-fifth birthday alone at home?” I confessed with a small smile. “She’s not here,” I added when I saw him looking around for Josie. “She’s in London for work.”
“Well, that’s a shame that I won’t get to meet her.”
I raised a questioning brow. “Why would you want to meet her?”
His statement didn’t seem malicious, but you never knew with men. My gut told me he was a nice guy and she was never wrong, but even the nicest ones could surprise you.
My best friend had been a nice guy, and I hadn’t heard from him in over a year.
“To thank her for giving me the chance to flirt with the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” Andrew said, his voice carrying a sultry tone.
“Oh, you’re good,” I noted with a light chuckle.
“I try my best,” he said, settling into the empty seat next to mine.
We spent the next few minutes exchanging polite conversation about what we did for work (he was a tech bro), the woes of dating, and debating on whether or not Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which he’d agreed was the case.
Usually, people thought I was crazy for suggesting so—well, except one other person—so it was nice not to have to bring out the list I had on my phone that had the thirteen reasons why Die Hard was, in fact, a Christmas movie.
I could still hear the laughter bouncing around my childhood bedroom as I—we—spent the night rewatching the movie over and over again to come up with detailed specifics for the list because our families and friends kept looking at us like we’d grown three heads when we added the movie to the list for our marathon night we had during the holidays every year.
“Talya?”
“Umm,” I replied, meeting his gaze. I didn’t know how long I’d been in my thoughts, but he didn’t seem to have been fazed by it. Or he didn’t notice. Either way, I was glad not to have to rehash a bittersweet memory with a complete stranger.
“I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but would you like to be my match?”
Andrew had slipped off his mask at some point during our conversation, and now a hopeful expression softened his sharp features.
His match?
I racked my brain for what he meant, trying to recall what the security guy had said earlier—but my brain stubbornly drew a blank. My confusion must have flickered across my face, but before either of us could say a word, I felt someone step up behind me.
“She’s already taken.”