Page 5 of All Your Lies (All or Nothing #2)

“Shit,” Jenna mutters as she searches for her ID in her messy sequin clutch with no success.

“Here, hold this,” she instructs, and into my palm goes a smooth metal flashlight, a slightly tacky pink lip gloss tube, two red pens, three small connected paperclips, a blue sucker, a fork, a tarot card with the word death across it, and a surprisingly weighty miniature Super Woman figurine.

I raise an eyebrow at her array of weird items in my hands as she continues to rummage through her bag. “No stapler or rolling pin?” I deadpan.

“That’s in my other…ah!” she exclaims as she reaches into the bodice of her dress and rips her ID out with a smile before handing it to the woman behind the desk.

“Here,” I say, thrusting all of her odds and ends back into her clutch. “What’s up with the figurine?”

“It’s good luck.”

I raise a brow. “And the tarot card?”

“Also good luck,” she says with a wink.

“Welcome, Ms. Rossi and Ms. Jacobs. It seems this is your first time here, so I will have you fill these out.” She passes us a thick stack of papers and a couple pens.

The NDA and waiver on the very top catch my attention, causing my eyes to widen.

Where the hell am I and why would I need that?

I reach down and pinch Jenna’s leg.

“Ouch,” she hisses.

I eye the woman typing on her keyboard before looking at Jenna. “An NDA?” I whisper. Jenna just smirks as she signs her life away without reading a thing.

“I can assure you it’s for the benefit of every member. We take our privacy here extremely seriously,” the woman says without looking up from her screen. I give her a tight smile and redirect my gaze to the rules.

I scan through three pages of club policies and guidelines.

There are strict rules on refusal; no means no, which I believe is a given, but I guess you can never be too sure.

Only one alcoholic drink is allowed for consumption by members in any attraction for the night, excluding the bar and front club area.

Attraction? Like theme park attractions?

All scenes must be agreed upon by all partners prior to beginning.

Scenes? What the hell are those?

Failure to comply with the aforementioned rules will lead to termination of membership and prosecution.

Despite reading through everything quickly, I can’t help but pause at certain parts that leave me mentally scratching my head in bewilderment.

Safe words? Fetishes? Dom/sub? A part of me yearns to ask questions, but the other part is crippled by a paralyzing sense of embarrassment.

Yes, I’ve read about these things countless times, but the reality of it hits differently when you’re a mere door away from being entombed by debauchery.

I have no experience. It would be like taking calculus when you can’t pass basic math.

I’m out of my depth. Therefore, I have no intention of going anywhere besides the bar or dance floor.

The words on the page blur as I scanned the document, but when I finally reach the membership fee, my jaw drops, and my eyes widened in disbelief.

I lean in toward Jenna’s ear. “Twenty-five grand for the introductory membership fee!? Are you fucking insane?”

“Definitely.” Jenna smiles.

“I can’t afford this.”

Jenna scoffs. “You’re worth millions. I don’t understand why you act so weird about money all the time.”

“It’s called being frugal. It allows you to keep having money.”

“And boring, you can’t forget that. You only have one life to live, Lex. Live it.”

“I’m trying to, but this is crazy,” I say.

“Chill, I’m going to pay for it.”

“You suddenly have another job besides bartending I don’t know about?”

“No, but I have this pretty cool plastic thing with a black strip on the back.”

She can’t be serious. I regard her as if she’s lost her mind for the millionth time tonight. “No way are you using your credit card on this.”

“So you want to use yours, then?” she asks with a cheeky grin.

“Absolutely not. My parents get my statements. I’d be mortified.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll pay for the first month. If you don’t like it, cancel the membership. See, easy peasy. Now sign the damn thing and stop stalling. I want to see what all the fuss is about,” she pleads as she points at all the places I need to sign.

“I’m paying you back when we get home. This is too much.” I shake my head, then sign the remaining lines.

“Perfect,” the woman says while gazing through the stack of papers to make sure we signed all the fields, then gazes up at us. “Ms. Rossi, may I see your right wrist?”

“Is the blood sacrifice next?” I mutter.

The woman laughs. “You’re funny. I like you already.”

“Thanks?” I say, quirking an eyebrow.

She places a one-inch black band with a small screen around both of our right wrists.

“This bracelet will allow you to move throughout the different rooms and attractions. You place it on the screen like this, and it will read your band. If access is granted, the bracelet’s screen will light up green and the door will unlock.

If you are not permitted, it will remain black.

This works much like a card would if you were at a hotel and attempting to get into your room.

This will also hold your tab if you have any drinks at the bar or dine in our restaurant.

The attendant will simply scan the band, and it will charge you an invoice, which will charge your credit card at the end of the night. ”

“Oh, I love this,” Jenna says as she rubs her hands together like a villain ready to take down the world.

“One more thing. Here are your bags. Please place any personal effects such as cell phones, ID cards or credit cards, and keys in here.”

She hands us each a black velvet bag with a deep red drawstring. The fabric is cool and luxurious to the touch, as it should be for the monthly price of this place. I toss my belongings in and wait for Jenna to do the same.

“To ensure their protection, these items will be placed in a safe deposit box. When you’re ready to leave, make a stop here, and I’ll scan your bracelet to retrieve your belongings.

The club is right through that door. Would you like a tour?

” Jenna and I both shake our heads. I think we’ll manage just fine.

“Well then, we at Obsidian hope you both enjoy your night,” she says as she walks to another door and leaves Jenna and me.

“Thanks, you too,” I say without thinking.

“Thanks, you too?” Jenna laughs. “What’s she supposed to enjoy out here?”

“Shut up, I’m nervous!” I say, opening the door she pointed to on the left.

A few short steps forward and we find ourselves in a room filled with an exquisite arrangement of black, red, and white fabric spanning from the floor to the ceiling.

The room is filled with a chaotic dance of red and white light beams, forming mesmerizing geometric shapes.

As the lights hit the glitter marble floors, they are transformed into a mesmerizing canvas of rainbow hues.

Plush velvet couches are scattered throughout the enormous room, some in dark, secluded corners for privacy and others which appear strategically placed for an audience.

The bar beckons us with its crimson lighting, casting an alluring hue and showcasing shelves brimming with bottles that seem to scrape the ceiling. Massive disco balls adorn its high ceilings, suspended at varying heights, casting an enchanting array of sparkles that captivate my attention.

“This place is gorgeous. Whoever owns it did an amazing job,” I yell over the music. “You wouldn’t expect this from the outside.”

“Are you saying you’re glad I brought you?” she asks with knowing eyes. I’m a sucker for anything interior design. If I wasn’t meant to follow in my dad’s footsteps, I could see myself being an interior designer, creating beautiful spaces like this.

“Possibly.” I smirk and give her a shrug.

“Good, because you need this, Lex. If it was up to you, you’d be in your bed reading your latest book about couples who don’t exist. Guys who don’t exist.”

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t bring my books into this,” I say, feigning defensiveness.

“Fine. But you know I’m right.”

“You are, and to show my appreciation,” I say as I eye the bartender heading our way, “I’ll buy the first round of drinks.”

After ordering my go-to vodka cranberry and Jenna’s classic martini, we move to the dance floor.

After three more drinks and a dozen songs, I’m in desperate need of a break and some air. This leather dress clings to the skin in the most uncomfortable way. I discreetly blow air down my cleavage in hopes it will cool me down.

Glancing to the left, I see Jenna dancing with some guy, their movements so close and intimate. It’s hard to tell where the dancing ends and something more begins. I swear she’s like a magnet for all guys, where I’m more of a repellant.

I catch her eye and communicate my need to visit the restroom. With a thumbs-up from her, I make my way toward the bathrooms. Wherever they are.

My eyes search for any sign that might indicate their whereabouts. There aren’t any. Maybe we should have taken the receptionist up on the tour.

Taking a gamble, I opt to go toward the first door I come across on the right-hand side.

I hold my bracelet over the small screen, and it turns red.

The door’s lock clicks before swinging open, revealing an empty hallway equally as breathtaking as the rest of this place. Okay... that’s kind of cool.

Shattered floor-to-ceiling mirrors create a mosaic of a million fragmented pieces, yet somehow remain intact as a kaleidoscope of colors form as the light dances along the walls.

The hallway turns left, leading me to yet another door. As I walk toward it, my eyes are drawn to a table adorned with a basket overflowing with vibrant masquerade masks. A sign politely instructs visitors to don a mask before proceeding.