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Chapter One Hundred Two

LUNA

Serafina pulls me into my room and closes the door.

“Have you even looked in your magic closet?” Serafina whips open the doors. It’s full. I didn’t even think to look in there.

That explains why she’s been dressed so well. She didn’t pack. She found a magic closet.

“I don’t have time.”

“The Fifth Chamber is the hottest thing right now.” She pulls out a black corset with ribbon laces. “Hurry up. Come on. Clothes off.”

I look down at my Keds and jeans. She’s right. I can’t go like this. I won’t be able to even pretend I belong there.

“No corset. Please.” I peel off the T-shirt. “What’s going on with Orlando? You want to spend an hour with him? You sure?”

“Yes.” She throws the corset onto the bed and flicks through the selections, pulling out a pink sequined camisole and putting it up against me.

“This? For real?”

“For real,” she confirms in a mocking tone. “Why don’t you look and find something you like?”

I flick through the rack as quickly as I can. I don’t know when Carmine’s getting there or what prep he’s doing. Spending time in front of a closet isn’t helping, but this stuff is not me.

“So you trust him?” Flick, flick.

“Sure.”

“I have to count on that guy to take me safely to a door he’s scared to even open.

” I pluck out the first wearable thing I see—a white satin jumpsuit with a plunging neckline and legs wide enough to hide a Chevy.

I toss it on the bed. “He has to bring me to the club, get me in, walk me to the door, and maybe open it? Like, I don’t even know?

And then I’m in a labyrinth by myself, hoping I can find a knife that might not want to be found.

” Next, shiny bellbottoms with a matching bikini top wrapped around the hanger hook.

“So if you have any idea if he’s sneaky, or stupid, or owes Charles money or something, I need to hear it. ”

“What if you have to pee?” She’s fussing with the white satin.

“What?”

“There’s no opening.” She stretches the legs open on the pants. “You’re going to have to practically get naked to piss.”

“Serafina.” When I cross my arms, she crosses hers.

She flicks away the jumpsuit. “Can’t you tell if he’s lying?”

“Only if he feels guilty about it. If he’s a sociopath, I won’t see it.”

“That’s useless.” She pulls a random, chunky, long-sleeved tangerine sweater dress from the closet and tosses it on the bed. “I don’t know anything about him that you don’t. It’s just vibes.”

“Can you describe the vibes?”

She sighs in annoyance and reaches for the top shelf. She’s shorter than I realized, so I help her get down a shoebox.

“Whatever outfit these shoes match is the one you wear, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“The vibes.” She hooks her fingers around the lid.

“There’s a connection. I feel it. It’s not like I’ve known him forever, but like maybe I’ve known of him forever?

Could I feel a deep connection with a shitty person who’ll feed you to the wolves, figuratively, not literally…

but maybe literally?” She opens the box. “Yes, I could.”

“You and me both.” I move away the tissue paper on top to reveal a pair of tangerine, low heel satin boots.

“Sweater dress.” She closes the box. “I’m saying this once. You shouldn’t do this to save his life. You’re not even in thrall.”

“It’s different. It’s not forced. But I’m pretty sure I’m still in thrall to him.”