Page 56 of Devil's Riches

The guard leaned out of the booth and pointed down the hedge-lined road that led up to the spectacular club building. “Take a left at the end of this road,” he said. “Then swing around to the right when you see a sign that says Parking Lot B. That’ll get you close to the side entrance. It’s locked, so you’ll have to knock and wait for someone to let you in.”

“All right. Thanks.”

The gate slowly slid open for us. Nate pulled the car through, steered it toward Parking Lot B, and parked in a guest spot.

The Mayfair Club was alive with warm golden lights, making it glow like a bonfire against the dark night sky. I widened my eyes and stared up at it as we stepped toward the tall wooden doors right ahead of us. None of the photos online did it justice. It seemed far bigger and more imposing in person, like a royal palace.

“Ready?” Nate asked, one hand poised above the golden door knocker. It was in the shape of a bull’s head.

I took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”

A tall brunette woman in a black linen dress answered the door a moment later. “You must be Ms. Livingston and Mr. Lockwood,” she said with a polite smile. “This way, please.”

She led us into a round foyer. A series of well-lit halls surrounded the space, all converging at the central point and radiating out from there to different parts of the building.

The woman who’d greeted us at the door motioned toward a large circular seat which sat in the middle of the foyer. “Please take a seat. I’ll go and let Ms. Ellesmere know you’ve arrived.”

I sat down and gazed around the extravagant room in wonder. It had been decorated with oil paintings and bronze statues of bulls, and the high ceiling was covered in swirling bronze embellishments.

“This is just the staff section,” I whispered to Nate. “Imagine how gorgeous the member’s section must be.”

“I thought you saw photos of it already,” he replied, looking slightly amused at my excitement.

“I did, but it’s way more impressive in person,” I said, marveling at an abstract painting directly across from our seat.

As I tried to figure out who the artist was, a petite middle-aged woman wearing a blue and white dress and silver jewelry emerged from the closest hall and stepped toward us with a smile on her face.

“Hello. I’m Victoria Ellesmere,” she said, holding out a hand. “You can just call me Victoria.”

I stood up and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said, pasting on a warm smile.

“Are you related to Gerald Ellesmere?” Nate asked as he shook her hand a moment later.

She nodded and smiled again. “Yes, he’s my father. He’s retired now, so I own and run the Mayfair with my husband and our business partners,” she said. “Now, if you’ll follow me, we can get started on this interview.”

A lump of fear suddenly appeared in my throat as we followed her down a long hallway. Surely she would see right through me and realize I didn’t belong in her exclusive club; that I was essentially nothing more than a spy.

Nate glanced over at me and squeezed my hand. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re going to be fine.”

I nodded and tried to focus on my breathing as we headed farther into the building. In, out. In, out.

Victoria led us into an exquisitely-decorated office at the end of the hall and gestured to two upholstered wingback chairs. “Take a seat.”

She sat behind her large Chippendale desk and glanced at some paperwork before looking back up at us with a quizzical expression. “Before we start on the official questions, I want to ask you something, Mr. Lockwood,” she said, focusing her gaze on Nate. “Your mother is Annalise Lockwood, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

“She’s an esteemed Mayfair member, and many other relatives of yours have been members over the years, too,” Victoria said, brows knitting. “So my question is: are you aware that as a Lockwood, you’re all but guaranteed an invitation to join if you just wait until you turn twenty-five? You won’t have to go through this application process then.”

“I’m aware,” Nate replied, keeping his expression as impenetrable as concrete. “But I don’t want to wait that long. I’d rather join right now, with Alexis.”

Victoria nodded slowly and fiddled with the pendant on her necklace. “Well, it’s your decision, of course. But if you change your mind further along in the process, I’ll understand. Applying without an official invitation is definitely notfor everyone.” She let those words hang in the air for a few seconds. Then she picked up a pen and turned her attention to me. “Anyway, let’s get started. Ms. Livingston, your application said that you’re currently a student at Blackthorne University?”

“That’s right.”

“What are you studying there?”

“Journalism.”

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