Page 5

EMMA

T here’s a prickling sensation at the back of my neck.

It’s a feeling that I know all too well. I’m immediately on edge.

We’ve just entered the giant open foyer of the club. Crystal chandeliers sparkle down on us, casting a warm glow on my skin.

“Hey, are you okay?” Gigi takes my hand in hers. I didn’t realize that my hands were shaking.

“It’s nothing,” I say, taking a deep breath.

“I know that we just met and everything, but I’m here for you if you want to talk about it,” she says, squeezing my hand.

For a second, I consider telling her my story. I consider telling her about the reason I sleep with a knife under my pillow. Something tells me that I could confess my darkest secrets to her, and she wouldn’t judge me for a second.

But like always, I don’t say a word.

“It’s just nerves,” I say instead.

“I get that. I’m terrified, too.”

“I wouldn’t know it by looking at you,” I say.

Gigi is one of the most confident girls I know. It’s hard to imagine her being scared of anything.

“It’s not just about the job,” she says. “I’m anxious about being recognized.”

“I thought you said you weren’t from here.”

“I’m not, but myfather has a lot of friends and acquaintances. I can never be too careful.”

Gigi must come from a wealthy background if her father’s friends come to places like this.

“I guess we’re lucky we get to wear masks,” I say.

“So lucky,” she agrees, touching her bejeweled black mask. “I wouldn’t have even considered the job otherwise.”

Mrs. Hendricks explained earlier that the girls who work at Elysium can wear masks to conceal their identity. There was a whole collection for us to choose from. I picked out a pale yellow one with gold dusted around the edges.

“Isn’t the club gorgeous?” Gigi asks.

I nod in agreement. “Mrs. Hendricks told us it would be classy, but this place is straight-up dreamy.”

Elysium sits on the outskirts of Ravenwood, nestled by hundreds of acres of forest land. Elegant lampposts line the driveway, their design evoking a bygone era.

The inside of the club is a blend of Art Deco and modern architecture. There’s a sweepingmarble bar to the right. The seating arrangements are in secluded alcoves along the open space’s perimeter, giving all clients privacy.

The men are tall, handsome, and well-dressed. The women are gorgeous. Some are dressed in evening gowns, and others wear nothing but bejeweled stickers on their bare skin.

“It feels like one of those places where you can lose track of time,” I say, taking in the glamour and the glitz.

“Maybe even lose yourself,” Gigi whispers.

It’s just what I need. A good distraction from the general chaos of my life.

The twin sisters walk a few feet ahead of us alongside Mrs. Hendricks. She offered to giveus a personal tour of the club.

The prickling sensation at the back of my neck intensifies.

I know it for certain now—I’m being watched.

But there’s something different about it this time. It doesn’t feel threatening. I don’t feel like I’m in danger.

Gigi glances at the time on her phone.

“We’ll be just in time for the midnight show,” she says.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” she replies.

We catch up with the twins and Mrs. Hendricks.

A heavy black door is opened for us. The words Carpe Noctem are embedded on the door in gold font.

Seize the night.

Something twists in my belly. This place is all about power, control, and desire. It’s all about shedding old inhibitions.

As I step through the door, something shifts inside me.

The atmosphere changes.

A thumping bass replaces the jazz music from the grand piano in the foyer. There’s a dark edge to this beat, a seductive tension that makes me want to unravel.

“You feel that too, right?” Gigi asks, turning to look at me.

“Yeah.”

There’s an inexplicable shift in the air. It feels like jumping from midsummer to New Year’s Eve.

We make our way down the corridor. Bright lights flicker at the far end.The air gets thicker, like a smoke that blurs the line between right and wrong. I feel the pulse of the music running through my entire body.

When we emerge from the other side, I forget how to breathe.

It’s wilder than anything I could have ever imagined.

Girls in sheer dresses twirl on rings in the sky. In one of the alcoves, I catch a glimpse of a girl giving a lap dance to a man. He’s fully dressed, and she’s wearing nothing but a tight latex skirt. He watches her move with hooded eyes.

I feel the raw sexual tension in the air. The anticipation, the power exchange, the heated gazes.

I have to pry my eyes away from the open debauchery.

There’s a large stage in the center with scattered seating arranged around it.

I feel a little lightheaded as I follow Mrs. Hendricks. She herds us toward a cluster of chairs at the far right of the stage. My little black skirt hikes higher up my thighs as I sit down.

The music intensifies. It’s a sultry ribbon that wraps around my throat, taking me somewhere I’ve never been.

The lights dim.

Applause breaks out as a group of dancers walk onto the stage. They’re wearing shimmery bodysuits with tassels hanging from their waist. They begin their performance. They’re all undeniably beautiful, but the way they move is breathtaking.

“Do you dance?” Gigi asks me.

“I enjoy dancing, but I don’t know if I can move like that,” I tell her. “What about you?”

“I’m okay at it, but it’s my dream to become a singer,” she says, brushing her long red hair behind her shoulder. “My parents didn’t approve. They don’t approve of any decision I make, actually. So I left home.”

“Do you miss it?”

“Home?” she asks.

I nod.

“Yes and no,” she says. “Everything was more comfortable at home, but that comfort came at a cost. It was suffocating my spirit. I had to get out.”

“I get that,” I whisper.

She gives me a small smile. My heart starts to race because I know where this conversation is going. She’s going to ask me what my story is. And I really don’t want to talk about it right now.

There’s a cheer from the crowd.

A couple of the girls leave the stage and walk toward the men.

They sit on their laps and continue dancing. I notice that they’re wearing fewer clothes than before.

I know I shouldn’t be looking, but I can’t look away.

The looks of desire. The heated touches. The blend of feminine and masculine. All of it is intoxicating.

I watch as one of the girls leans forward.

Her breasts are now pressed against the man’s dress shirt.

She drags them up his body until her mouth is hovering over his.

The man’s hands come to rest underneath her thighs.

He uses his grip on her to tug her even closer.

Her mouth parts in a silent O as their bodies connect.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?” Gigi asks, breaking the spell.

I inhale sharply. My cheeks burn with mortification.

“Am I being that obvious?” I ask.

“It’s okay, I’m not experienced with the opposite sex either,” she says.

I look at her. “Really?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. It’s not a big deal.”

“Doesn’t one need experience to work at a gentlemen’s club?” I ask. “I don’t know the first thing about how to seduce a man.”

The light in her eyes dims when I say that. She has a bubbly personality, but there’s something darker underneath.

She grins at me. “Maybe there’s a book or something.”

I glance at the couple I was staring at earlier.

Instead of seeing the two people, I imagine myself as the girl.

And sitting in the man’s place is Klaus Sinclair.

And the very thought of doing those things to him—being the object of his fascination, being the reason for his madness—steals the breath from my lungs.

I stand abruptly.

Gigi reaches for my hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say. “I just need some fresh air.”

“I’ll come with you,” she says immediately.

“No, stay,” I say. “I’ll be right back.”

I can feel Mrs. Hendricks and the twins watching me. I gesture toward the exit. Mrs. Hendricks nods at me. I catch a hint of concern in her eyes.

My legs feel like spaghetti noodles as I walk away from the stage.

With every step I take, I feel his gaze moving over my skin like a forbidden touch.

The interview this morning was only a few minutes, but I know I’ll spend the rest of my life replaying it.

Once more, disappointment settles at the base of my stomach.

The man was aggravating, but there was something about him. I don’t understand why I feel so bad about never seeing him again. It wasn’t like I knew him or anything. But the sense of losing something important persists.

I’m lost in my head when I accidentally walk straight into the wall.

The wall shifts underneath me. It’s not a wall, but a tall, muscular man. The scent of his cologne awakens a fire inside me.

I glance up for a moment. The flashing lights from behind me fall on his face, revealing the long scar along his right cheek. My heart jumps to my throat.

It’s him.

It’s actually him.

Before his eyes can register my face, I duck my head and slip away.

“Excuse me,” I whisper as I walk past him. As my strides get longer, I feel his gaze on my back. It melts down my spine like warm honey.

I have no way of knowing this, but I know . He was watching me earlier in the club. It was his eyes that I felt on me.

Emotions burst within me like a volcano. Hot lava licks against the walls of my heart.

All of me is burning.

I want to turn around for one last glance. But instead, I push open the door that leads back to the grand foyer. The club music is replaced by the softer notes of the piano.

I head straight toward the bar. As I slide onto the stool, a hand clasps my shoulder.

All of me freezes at the sudden touch.

I glance back. I swallow the strange disappointment that arises when I see that it’s only Mrs. Hendricks.

“Did something happen?” she asks me.

“Pardon?” I can feel my heart beating everywhere now—my throat, my belly, the backs of my knees.

“Your mood shifted halfway through the show,” she says. “Is there something or someone who made you feel uncomfortable?”

Klaus Sinclair’s face flashes through my mind. The two of us only met today, but it feels like he’s someone I’ve known all along.

I have to remind myself that he’s an asshole who cares about nobody else but himself.

“It’s just nerves,” I tell her.

“Just nerves?”

I nod and force myself to smile. “Thank you for checking up on me, though.”

She sits down on the stool next to me.

“You still look like you need a drink,” she says. A bartender appears in front of us, waiting for our order. “What would you like?”

I shrug. I don’t know what to order because I don’t drink much.

“Dealer’s choice,” I say.

“One lemon drop please, Arthur,” Mrs. Hendricks says to the bartender.

I watch as the bartender selects a very expensive-looking vodka bottle and breaks the seal. He makes the cocktail in record time and sets it before me. It looks delicious.

“Have you decided?” she asks.

“About what?” I ask, a little distracted.

I fight the urge to glance over my shoulder again even though I don’t feel his eyes on me like I did before.

“About Elysium,” she says.

I take a sip of my drink. It’s sweet and tangy and perfect for me.

“You can take your time to think about it, of course,” she says.

“I think I’ve already made my decision,” I say, taking a deep breath.

Mrs. Hendricks raises her eyebrows.

“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’ll work here.”

“The girls will be thrilled to hear it,” she says.

“Gigi and the twins are taking the job as well?” I ask.

She nods and smiles at me.

Relief washes over me. All of this is way out of my comfort zone, but knowing that the girls will be with me makes it infinitely better.

My only hope is that I don’t have any more encounters with the devil.