Page 5 of You’re ours now (Masked Men)

Chapter Four

Mellie

For someone who loves the idea of love so much, I’m a complete disaster. It’s no surprise I didn’t get a call back for True Love’s Match . Who’d want the liability I would have brought? Not to mention there is no way they could air the content they filmed of me on any streaming service. Of course they wanted normal answers to their questions. I should have said I liked long walks on the beach and a nice quiet meal by the fireplace—now that’s something they could film. Not that I desire those things, but shit, I didn’t have to go balls to the wall straight up. Instead, I went directly to the things you normally have to warm people up to.

Thankfully, my boss just completed the biggest wedding we’ve done so far. It was magical, with ice swans and flowers everywhere. The cake was so big they brought it in disassembled and put it together at the venue. I would never want something so big. Instead, I dream of a ceremony with only family and close friends, and a boho vibe. Though I doubt it will happen soon. I have the next five days off, and I plan to spend them moping around the house, watching sappy love movies, and eating my body weight in ice cream.

Opening the front door, I step through and dump my bag on the floor, then slip off my shoes. “Julius, Zayne, Storm... are you guys home?”

There’s no answer, so I guess no one is home from work yet. I stop at Zayne’s room and twist the handle, popping my head in—it’s empty. Strange, normally Zayne is home at this time of day. Maybe he got called in to the bar early or had a gig. As a musician, he keeps weird hours.

I can’t help my sigh of disappointment—I was hoping we could start our Valentine’s Day movie marathon early. After my failed interview last week, he promised he would clear today and mope with me. Walking down the hall with a bag full of every flavor ice cream I could carry, I head into the kitchen and dump them on the counter. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore the message, expecting it to be my boss. I love being her assistant, but there are so many tasks she pushes on me, which shouldn’t be my problem. She pays me well, though, so I won’t complain too loudly. After stacking the ice cream in the freezer, I decide to read the damn text.

Unknown

Congratulations on making it to the second round of contestants for True Love’s Match. You will be sent a location to attend for the next stage, so please pack an overnight bag. You will be sent updates and must follow the directions to remain a finalist. Please check your email and sign the attached waiver form. We will be in contact after receiving your returned form.

A squeal peels from my lips, and I jump up and down. Maybe I won’t be spending Valentine’s Day with my best friend, who’s only doing it out of pity. Though I remind myself not to get too excited, as my potential match will have to actually ask me out on Valentine’s Day first, but it’s a step in the right direction.

Racing to my room, I then power on my laptop and open my email, clicking the link to the waiver. I scan the contents, and it all seems straightforward. It asks for my likes and dislikes, a safe word, and for a list of things I will consent to doing. It also wants me to upload my most recent STI results. Thankfully Julius is anal about all of us being tested twice a year. We got our results a month ago and since then I have been in a dry spell. It also states the only portion filmed is my arrival, and that I will be required to give an interview afterwards. It seems odd, but honestly, I don’t know what kind of show they are filming. Maybe it’s a matchmaking service, and it showcases what they can do, like more of a documentary. I make a mental note to ask when I arrive.

Once I’m done and have submitted everything, I slap my laptop closed and slide off my bed. I pack an overnight bag as nervous energy flits through my system, but I shake it off. I want this experience just once because no doubt when I finally meet someone and settle down, my fantasies won’t be a priority. If the last guy is an example, wrapping my hand around a bed partner’s neck won’t be something I do often, even if the thought of my dainty hands collaring a man makes me wet enough to pull out my purple vibrator and take it for a spin. I close my eyes and picture Storm’s thick tattooed neck, but my eyes fly back open. Now isn’t the time to have a sexual fantasy about my best friend.

My phone beeps, and I open the new text from the unknown number. It’s a set of coordinates. A second message quickly follows.

Unknown

You have two hours.

Shit. Once I click on my destination, I see it takes an hour to drive there. Frantically, I throw my nice underwear in the suitcase, a dress, something casual to wear home, and my toiletries. Doubt creeps in as I zip up the suitcase. Can I do this? I want love and feelings, whereas this seems impersonal. But if it works out, maybe it could become love, so it’s worth a shot...

Ugh. I have an hour drive to convince myself I can do this. It can’t be worse than the many failed dates I’ve had in the last six months.

Grabbing my phone, I open the group chat and send a message to the guys.

Me

You will never guess what happened.

I send the message, and the bubbles appear straight away.

Storm

I hate guessing.

I snort at his reply. Storm is not a patient person; if he has something to say, he’ll just say it.

Me

The matchmaking show chose me! I’m spending the night so don’t wait up.

Julius

Is your location on? Can’t be too safe.

Zayne

I knew they’d pick you. You’re awesome.

Zayne

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.

Julius

You would do anything.

Zayne

Exactly!

Storm

Maybe I should go with you. What if the guy is a serial killer?

Me

STORM! Why would you say that? I’m going before you psych me out.

Julius

Be safe and call us if you need anything.

Zayne

Go find the man of your dreams. You got this.

Storm

Make sure he knows I will break his face if he makes you cry.

Storm’s message makes me smile. It’s nice knowing he has my back, although I don’t want him to punch anyone in the face—even if tears are involved.

Me

Thanks guys. See you tomorrow.

They all send back an emoji.

Julius

Zayne

Storm

The guys are right, I can do this. I deserve this. And at the very least, even if the guy turns out like the rest of the duds I’ve dated, the experience will be worth it because this time they know my kinks, so a hand necklace shouldn’t surprise them. Besides, from the sound of the email, this experience is all about me.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my suitcase and head back to the front door, slipping on my shoes. After locking the door behind me, I drag my suitcase to my Ford Focus, throwing it into the passenger seat before getting into the driver’s side. I connect my phone to the Bluetooth and set the coordinates on the GPS. Finally, I press play on my road trip playlist and reverse out of the driveway.

Here goes nothing.

Belting out the lyrics to a Pink song as I fly down the highway, I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. Each song that plays is like my own personal one-woman concert. The air is chilly, but I keep my window down, causing my hair to fly out around my face. Do I care if I look like an idiot? Nope.

Time passes, and before I know it, I’m pulling into a long driveway. The resort sign has faded, and I can barely make it out. My heart thumps hard, but I tell myself there is nothing to worry about, followed by a quick pep talk. Mellie, you signed a waiver, nothing bad is going to happen to you. Enjoy yourself.

I pull into the parking lot and kill the engine. Since I left home, the sun has gone down and there are only old solar lights illuminating the path to the door inside. Damn Storm and his serial killer jokes. Add in the run-down resort and my mind is running wild.

Then my interview comes back to me, and I smirk. I asked for a masked man to chase me through an abandoned resort. Damn, this network must be loaded to be able to make good on that detail. To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded where I was chased—a resort was the first place my tipsy brain could imagine.

Leaning over to the passenger side, I grab my small suitcase and drag it out, then click the beeper on my keys. Pulling out my phone, I turn on the flashlight and head toward the front doors.

This place would have been nice. Large overgrown trees surround the front of the building, and once the sliding doors are open, I can see the inside is in a little better shape. It’s clear no one has been here in a very long time. Dust and debris are scattered on the floor and inside the building is dark. Even with my flashlight, I can barely see anything, and I wonder what I’m supposed to do next.

My phone beeps, and a message pops up from my unknown contact.

Unknown

Put your bag down and look up.

I drop my bag and lift my gaze to find a masked man standing at the top of a nearby staircase. My phone beeps again, and I dart a glance down as I clutch it tightly in my hand.

Unknown

The fun starts now. Use your safe word if you need to. But for now... RUN!

I look up again and see the masked man coming toward me. My heart beats frantically against my ribcage. I haven’t showered and my hair looks like I have been electrocuted. As he gets closer, I make the choice.

I run.