Page 133 of Chandelier Sin
“You have to trust me.”
“How—”
“How did I find the sixth floor? It found me.”
Her eyes flashed with fury. “If you come here uninvited, you don’t make it out. Do you understand?”
“Sounds like guests whoare‘officially’ invited get to explore their depravities. No repercussions. Anything else you want to share?”
She glanced at the elevator door. “Was that Stella?”
“Someone lucky enough to escape.”
“I saw her with Jake Carrington.”
Down the hallway, a masked woman appeared, paused for a beat, and stared at us. Then she opened a door and disappeared.
Eve shook her head. “She’s no one.”
“If she’shere she’s someone.”
“A guest.” She lowered her gaze. “She won’t be a problem.”
“Wait, are you…?” Her scent was familiar. “Are you wearing my cologne?”
She blushed and it looked adorable on her. Eve had literally bought Clive Christian and dabbed it on her throat.
“I’m flattered.”
“You’re mistaken.”
No, I wasn’t.
That was a revelation I’d not foreseen, Eve wanting—no,needing—to smell like me, perhaps desperate for a sensory cue that would stir up memories of all we’d shared.
It shouldn’t affect me, but it did.
She brushed past me to press the elevator button. “Leave, now.”
Her touch sent an electric shudder through me. “We leave together.”
“What were you thinking?” Eve shook her head in frustration. “I’ll talk with you later.”
She walked off.
I assumed she was heading back toward the heart of the forbidden.
With no choice but to follow, I made my way after her down the long hallway, the music growing louder.
Eve spun around. “You’re incorrigible.”
We strolled through an ornate door and entered an empty room with understated opulence. In the softly lit sanctum, leather armchairs invited guests to sit, relax, and recover from their wicked fuckery.
The well-worn furniture’s caramel hues were warmed by the golden glow of brass sconces. The pungent aroma of aged whiskey mingled with stale Cuban cigars, all too rich for my taste. Oak paneling offered a timeless elegance. On an ornate Chinese table rested a crystal decanter of bourbon, tumblers beside it.
I saw an iPad on a coffee table. Right next to it was a silverbucket holding a bottle of champagne. Two glass flutes sat ready for the guest to toast their entry into the land of debauchery.
This was where the elite signed their contracts. It was easy to guess what followed, the exorbitant membership fee transferred into Pendulum’s coffers using that iPad, to seal the deal with the Devil.
