Page 19 of Lucy and Her Wicked Three

Two staircases sit on either side of the room, leading up to a second floor, with more bouncers guarding the base. They stand tall beside a podium, each holding a tablet, dressed in black, looking serious. I wonder if Mateo's upstairs.

I should have brought Portia; she'd know what to do. Even though I said I wouldn't follow Mateo, once she planted the seed... I went back and forth for days, talking myself in and out of it, but ultimately decided it was the only way to get answers. Admittedly, being alone for days and feeling like I was going crazy contributed to this really stupid plan. But Portia would have come along and been supportive.

I'd have liked that kind of support right about now because the more time passes without seeing him, the more uncomfortable I feel.

Weaving through the dancing crowd, I realize I must have lost him. He's not here. It's been almost an hour. And I'll need to get an Uber out of here because there are no yellow cabs in this neighborhood, and I have no clue where I am.

My earlier nerves morph into that familiar anxious territory, heat crawling up my neck, and I nearly give up. But as I make my way back through the room, intending to leave, my gaze snags back on the stairwell and the bouncers.

They look serious, and they might find out I snuck in here. I don't want to get in trouble, but determination wins, so I stalk toward the staircase on the far right, near the end of the long bar. What's the worst that could happen? They kick me out?

The bouncer looks down at me, giving my outfit a once over before lifting a brow.

I clear my throat, adjusting the brim of my hat. "Umm, excuse me. Can I go up there? I'm just lookin' for my boyfriend."

His gaze narrows, and he shakes his head once.

"Please? I just need to know if he's here."

The bouncer grimaces. "Lady, if your boyfriend is up there, you're better off not knowing."

What the hell does that mean?

"Look, I just need to talk to him. I ain't gonna cause any trouble," I say in my sweetest Southern accent. "His name is Mateo. Mateo Torres?"

The bouncer sighs, about to tell me to leave again, when someone touches my elbow. "Are you Lucy, by any chance?"

I turn, but my response gets stuck in my throat, my jaw hanging open. It's him, the guy Mateo was with. Long dark brown hair, tied in a knot at the nape of his neck, and up close, I can see it's cut shorter on the sides, with a few pieces fallen from the tie. His facial hair is unshaven but closely cropped, framing a rectangular-shaped face, captivating hazel eyes and a pointed chin. He smiles softly, and it's so jarring. He smiles wider the longer I stare.

"Umm… huh?"

He laughs, and it's so fucking charming. Jesus, Lucy, get it together. You're here for Mateo.

The reminder makes me stand a little taller. I've seen hot guys before, and never has one distracted me this much. It's just because things are up in the air with Mateo, it's the only reason I noticed. As his words sink in, I steel my shoulders.

"How do you know my name?"

"You are, then? Mateo's girlfriend?"

"He told you about me?" I ask, shocked. Since I'm realizing how little I know about Mateo, I'm surprised he talks about me at all, to anyone.

"Of course. You're his girlfriend. What are you doing here? Does he know you're here?"

I shake my head, glancing at the bouncer, who's still wincing. What could be so bad that he keeps giving me that pitying look?

"He doesn't know I'm here." I don't admit I followed them.

"Okay… I'm not sure how he'll feel about you being here," he confesses, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. There's a sharp sting in my chest, and I flinch at his admission.

"I didn't mean… it's not that he won't be happy to see you. I know he misses you. It's just…" He looks up the staircase, then back at me. "I'm Noah, by the way. Mateo's one of my best friends. Come on, let's go find him."

Taking my elbow, Noah leads me up the stairs, and we pass the bouncer, who unnervingly says, "Good luck."

Confused by all the secrecy, it takes me a second to appreciate the room we walk into as we ascend the stairs. Lush assortments of plants, flowers, and greens cover the walls, with massive planted sculptures in the center of the floor, surrounded by plush seating. Above, a domed ceiling made of glass enhances the greenhouse effect. It's stunning.

Despite Noah's heated hand on my arm pulling me forward, I'm distracted by all the people we pass. Some cluster together in small groups, others lounge on couches and chairs, half on top of each other. Everyone seems… Italmostlooks like people areabout to have sex… orarehaving sex. Right there in the open. But that can't be right.

I watch couples disappear down several rows of hallways and wonder what they could be doing.

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