Page 19 of The Whole Package

"I'm Gloria, Mark's wife," another woman chimes in. She's got these wild, unruly curls that make her look fierce and stunning. She's older than the others, but there's a kind of elegance about her that's hard to miss. Her dark skin against the burgundy of her dress is striking, and I catch myself staring a bit too long.

Then there's Valentina, with her long black hair and sleek black pantsuit. "Silas is my husband," she declares. But her tone carries an edge, possessive and sharp. Her eyes fix on me, and it feels like she's sending a silent message, a warning.

"Hi! I'm Kiley," pipes up one of the girls I noticed earlier at the bar. She's got this bubbly vibe like she's bursting with energy. "Oliver and I have been dating for a few months now, but, you know, we haven't really had 'the talk,' so I'm not sure if that makes us official."

Before I can even think of a response, her companion, all caramel curls and a gaze that seems to see right through me, jumps in. "Relax, Kiley," she warns, tossing her hair with a confidence that borders on arrogance. "I'm Mara," she declares, her voice carrying a note of authority. "Elijah's fiancée." And that's it. No further explanation, no small talk. Just a statement, clear and straightforward.

I find myself momentarily at a loss. The introductions have been a whirlwind, names and relationships thrown at me left and right. I doubt I'll remember half of them. But it's clear from how Mara said it – Elijah's fiancée – that she's staking her claim, marking her territory.

"So?" Kiley presses, her gaze fixed intently on me. They're all waiting for an answer to the same question. When I hesitate, obviously thrown off, Gloria steps in.

"You and Enzo," she says as if that clarifies everything. "Are you two dating?" Damn it. I'm caught off guard; there is noprep or heads-up from Enzo on how to handle this kind of interrogation. What am I supposed to say?

"I guess you could say so," I find myself responding with a lie that slips out more smoothly than I expected. The bartender comes to my rescue, placing a fresh drink before me. I silently mouth a 'thank you' to him, seizing the opportunity to divert attention from the awkward question. I lift the glass and down its contents in almost one gulp.

"Someone's thirsty," I hear a murmured comment from somewhere in the group, but I can't tell who it is. Not that it matters. The truth is if any of these women knew the real reason I was here, their judgment would be far harsher than a snide remark about my drinking.

As Enzo struts back into the room, the music cuts off like someone hit the pause button, and everyone obediently finds their way back to their seats. I take a moment to scan the room. Seriously, this crowd could be ripped out of a fashion magazine – all stunningly attractive, like they've walked off a runway or a movie set. I'm momentarily caught up in their allure, but that thought train derails when Enzo slides into the seat next to me again, cradling a big crystal bowl filled with what looks like keys and locks.

"Thank you all for coming tonight," Enzo begins, setting the bowl down with a bit of a flourish. "It's always a pleasure to spend time with friends. I know we're all busy, but I appreciate you making time for this old man." He lets out a laugh that's probably meant to be self-deprecating. To me, though, it sounds like he's loving every second of being the center of attention.

Calling him an 'old man' is a stretch. He doesn't look a day over thirty, making me double-take. He said something about knowing Mark since high school, but there's no way they're the same age, not with the way Mark carries more years on his face. Enzo, on the other hand, looks like he hit the genetic jackpot.

"As some of you know, we have a little tradition at these reunions," Enzo says. I instantly notice subtle movements and knowing looks exchanged across the room. Great, a tradition. This should be interesting. "Since we have a few new faces, I'll explain how our game works." He's definitely got my attention now, along with a growing apprehension.

Enzo lifts the crystal bowl, making a show of it so we can all see the gleaming gold locks and keys inside. "Lock and Key," he announces, and something about how he says it sends a ripple of reaction through the room. "We started this back in college, and well, it's become a bit of a tradition. Still as fun as ever." The men around the table share a laugh, clinking their glasses together. I can't help but roll my eyes internally at the display.

"Thanks to the lovely ladies for being part of this year after year. You make the game what it is." Enzo's eyes land on me, and I feel a knot tighten in my stomach. "And to our new friends, welcome. Hope it's the first of many." The way he says it, you'd think we were about to play some innocent parlor game.

"So, here's the deal for the newbies. You'll each take a key or a lock from this bowl. If someone's key opens your lock, they're yours for the night." My eyes widen, and I can't hide my shock. What the hell have I walked into? Around me, some women are smiling, but I catch Gloria's uneasy shift and Mara's barely concealed grimace. Valentina tries to hide behind her drink, but her scowl is almost palpable.

"There are just two rules," Enzo adds. "First, you must stay in the room corresponding to the number on your lock together. And second, what happens here stays here. No one talks about Lock and Key after they leave in the morning."

I'm standing here, completely floored. This whole Lock and Key game? It's thrown me for a loop. Sure, I signed up to spend the night with someone, but this is a whole other level of crazy.A part of me is screaming to bail, but then there's the nagging question: what about my pay?

Fuck, this is a mess.

I'm trying to understand it all when I catch Enzo's gaze. He's not just casually looking around as he lets everyone pick their lock or key. No, his eyes are locked on Valentina, Silas's wife. And it's not just a passing glance – something intense there, something... personal. Silas, for his part, seems more intrigued by the game itself, but Enzo? It's like he's using this game for something else entirely.

It hits me then – this game, maybe it started as some college fun, but now?

It looks like Enzo's twisted way of getting close to Valentina. Is that why he invited me here? Is it some sort of distraction or cover?

Everything is fucked up.

And here I am, stuck in the middle of it, trying to figure out my role in this bizarre drama. I glance around the room, taking in the faces of the others, wondering if they're all just pawns in Enzo's game, too. Some of them seem into it, others not so much. But everyone's playing along like it's just another night of high-society fun.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my racing thoughts. I need to keep my cool and play this smart, but I can't help but feel like I've stepped into a game I don't know how to play.

CHAPTER

FOURTEEN

C a r m e n

When Enzo's key clicks into Valentina's lock, a lightbulb goes off in my head – the guy's played us all. This wasn't chance or fate; it was a setup. Valentina, for her part, can't even bring herself to look at him as he triumphantly announces the 'match.' Her face is a mask, but I can't tell if she's feeling guilty or

just plain embarrassed. Either way, this isn't a surprise to her.

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