Chapter 10 #5
Aiden tilted his head, an intensity that made my skin prickle. He wasn’t buying my excuse, but his smile was patient. Cody watched us with bright cobalt eyes.
I needed to put some distance between us, a safety barrier for my own unraveling emotions.
As I turned to leave, Cody called after me, “Hey, Josie, any chance you’ll join us for a drink later?”
There was a pause.
Aiden’s gaze stayed locked on me. “Yeah,” he echoed. “Sit with us when you get the chance.”
The invitation hung between us. I nodded, already wondering whether I’d actually do it, whether I wanted to.
Back at the bar, Rita caught my eye, a half-smile curving her mouth. “You gonna grow a pair and go talk to him tonight,” she said, “or just keep pretending you don’t notice the guy who’s been watching you like he already knows how this ends?”
I snorted and turned back to the bourbons. “Maybe he’s just bored.”
“Mm,” she hummed, skepticism lacing her voice. “Or maybe he’s the kind of bored that gets people hurt.”
“You don’t even know him.”
Her gaze drifted past me, toward Aiden. “Don’t have to,” she murmured. “There’s a… weight around him. You feel it?”
Caught off guard, I hesitated. “You mean, like, bad vibes?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” She smiled thinly.
Cody’s laugh carried over the hum of the bar. I glanced their way and met Aiden’s steady gaze. Something in my stomach flipped.
When I turned back, Rita was watching me, one brow raised. “What’s going on with you? He’s not going to bite.” Her grin tilted, sly. “Unless he does, and honestly, I can’t decide if that’d be a good or bad thing.”
I laughed, trying to shake off her earlier words. “You’re impossible.”
“But my instincts aren’t.” She grabbed two cocktails; her bracelets clinked softly. “Just… keep your wits about you, okay? Guys like him don’t just show up; they arrive.”
“You sound like you’re warning me.”
“Maybe I am.” Her smirk returned, but her eyes stayed serious. “Or maybe I’m just saying, if you’re going to dance with fire, don’t pretend you didn’t see the smoke first.”
Then she was gone, leaving me with the uneasy certainty that she hadn’t just been joking.
I made my rounds, handing out drinks and collecting empties. Aiden and Cody were engrossed in conversation. Words like “risk” and “she’s the one” reached me, sending a chill down my spine.
“Why do you think she’s running?” Cody leaned forward, his gaze shifting to me.
Aiden shrugged. “Some things are worth the chase.”
Their drinks hit the table harder than I intended, their words a battering ram against my defenses. “You guys need anything else?”
Aiden grinned up at me, his eyes full of mischief and something more. “Just a yes for a date tomorrow.”
My mouth opened, but no words came out. His confidence was intoxicating, frightening. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control. “Sorry, I’ve got plans.”
Before Aiden could tease me again, Mike appeared at my elbow. His broad, squared-off build and stoic demeanor made him a looming presence among the drunks and the desperate. He gestured towards the spiral staircase at the back. “Josie, the boss wants you up in the tower.”
His words sent a sick ripple through my gut. Ulysses Morozov never summoned anyone to his tower unless he wanted to remind them who owned their soul. The office was glass-walled, perched above the floor, and colder than a Russian winter even during heat waves.
I climbed the winding stairs. Ulysses was waiting as promised, looking at the main floor below, hands clasped behind him. He didn’t turn as I entered; he simply watched his kingdom.
But even from behind, I knew: he was watching Aiden and Cody’s booth.
He spoke without looking at me. “Do you know what I find most fascinating about people, Josephine?” His accent was almost undetectable, save for the crisp way he pronounced each syllable, a permanent reminder of an Old World pedigree none of us could match.
“It’s not their virtues or their vices. It’s the things they fail to hide. ”
The hairs on my arms prickled with instinctual dread. I braced myself for the usual lecture. Instead, he gestured to a crystal decanter on his desk. “Do you drink, Josephine?” he asked, pouring two fingers of vodka into a glass before I could answer.
“Not on the clock,” I replied.
“Rules are for those with something left to lose,” he said and offered me the drink.
I hesitated, then took it.
“Normally,” he said, “I would terminate you for fraternizing with clients. This is not a sorority house; it is a place of business. I do not tolerate distractions, not from staff, not from customers, and certainly not from you.” His words fell like cold stones.
“I remember the day you started here. You were a feral thing, starving and grateful. Now you are comfortable. Sloppy. I worry that you have lost your hunger.”
My face burned with humiliation, but I said nothing.
He steepled his fingers. “But I am not without mercy. Ava Miller was a dear friend, not just to you, but to this establishment. Out of respect for her…” He paused just long enough for me to register the chill in his smile.
“…I am prepared to give you a second chance. A chance that comes with more responsibility and more reward, if you prove worthy.”
I waited, heart galloping. He let the silence stretch, enjoying the power.
“I want you to headline the floor,” he said at last. “You’ll take the midnight slot, the top billing. You will be the face of Neon, the same way Ava once was.”
The words hit me like a fist.
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him, unable to find my voice. Did he really say what I think he said? He wanted me to become the main dancer? The star of the show? It was a position reserved for legends, and Ava had been a comet, blazing and brief, before she’d vanished from the world.
To be offered her spot wasn’t just an honor; it was a dare.
A test.
A trap.
Ulysses’s lips pulled into a thin line, “You may think this is a kindness. It is not. I expect discipline. Excellence. If you fail me, I will not hesitate to make an example of you. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” My teeth clicked together around the word.
But my brain moved faster, already assembling a shield to put between myself and his machinations.
“I have a condition, though.” My voice was steady, but my insides were a trembling animal.
His eyes narrowed, but he motioned for elaboration with a lazy flick of his wrist. “This isn’t a negotiation,” he said.
“I’ll do the midnight slot. I’ll sell the fantasy. But I won’t show my face. I’ll do it wearing a mask.” I said, then added. “… And no private rooms.” My voice dropped, baring my desperation in a way I hated, “I can’t… won’t… be locked in a room with just anyone.”
The words sat between us, raw and ugly, and I saw the flicker of recognition in his eyes. He knew about Mateo, of course. He probably knew about my struggles to pay rent. What surprised me was the briefest twist of something in his expression, pity, or the closest he could manage.
“I am not a monster, Josephine,” he said quietly. “And you are not as clever as you think. But…” His gaze flicked down to my hands, then back to my face. “…deal.”
I let out a slow breath, trying not to betray how much I needed that win.
He leaned in, lowering his voice. “I have noticed your interest in certain patrons. I will not ask you to stop, but I will warn you: some men come here hunting, others hiding. If you are smart, you will learn the difference.”
His warning was not lost on me.
He straightened. “You start next week. See Rita about costumes, and Michelle…” He smiled. “…she will walk you through the choreography. She’d been waiting for that slot. For years. So, I suggest you do not disappoint her.”
When I descended the spiral, I spotted Aiden and Cody, heads close in conspiracy and realized with a jolt that my entire life had just been rewritten in a single conversation.
The rest of the night blurred. Toward the end of my shift, I caught a flicker of something strange near the back hallway that led past the VIP alcoves. Ulysses had materialized in a shadowy corner. His companion was a man I’d never seen before: thin and bespectacled.
At first, I didn’t think much of it; after all, Ulysses was always weaving connections in the dark. But as I passed by, hands full of empty glasses, a fragment of their conversation caught my attention. “The current is stronger now,” the stranger murmured.
“That will pass. It always does.” Ulysses’s voice was soft, dangerous. “Watch the flow, report to me, and stay unnoticed.”
Any other night, I would have kept moving, avoiding Ulysses’s gaze. But something about their exchange unsettled me. I continued past them into the service corridor, but their voices followed me.
The stranger said, “There’s more, they glow, sometimes, like phosphorus in river mud.”
Ulysses let silence hang for a moment, “If you want to keep your job, Doctor, remember that discretion is valued above all else. The Source is a myth to the public. Do not make me remind you again.”
“Of course,” the man said, stepping back half a step.
I almost dropped my tray. The river of light. The glowing people. The Source. Mateo had described them all in his childlike way as if they were monsters under his bed. I’d dismissed it all as a product of late-night cartoons and my own lingering religious ghost stories.
But here were two men discussing the same hallucination in urgent tones. People who saw invisible rivers and glowing strangers were labeled as crazy or destined for the psych ward.
I lingered in the corridor, restocking napkins and shot glasses, trying to make sense of what I’d heard.
Was Ulysses part of some new trafficking ring?
Were they dealing drugs, or something infinitely stranger?
If my instincts were right, and Mateo’s nightmares were rooted in this club, then my negotiation for the midnight slot, and the mask for that matter, was as much a shield as it was a showcase.