Page 65 of Seal My Fate

“This is tonight?” I ask, already breathless at the idea.

Saint smiles. “I thought with everything that’s going on, it wasn’t the right moment for us to attend. But perhaps it’s exactly what we need.”

Chapter17

Tessa

The invitation says that the dress code tonight isGlamorous Games, so I pick the raciest of my new outfits: an ultra-short silk swing dress that moves loosely around my body, the hemline flirting at the very tops of my thighs. I pair it with hot pink lingerie, some glittering black strappy sandals, and sweep my hair into a messy bun on the top of my head.

“It seems a shame to hide you away behind a mask…” Saint says, his eyes devouring me approvingly as our driver collects us. Still, he produces a silk bandana-style mask for me, and slips one on to hide his own face, too. In his perfectly fitting designer suit and black shirt, dark hair falling, rumpled over the mask, he looks like a modern highwayman, out to steal some hearts tonight.

Or just out to steal my breath away.

I kiss him in the back of the car, anticipation already sparkling in my veins. He’s right: An adventure is exactly what I need. A way to forget all the drama and anxiousness of the past few days and to lose myself in the thrill of discovery; give myself over to pleasure, and all its games.

I wonder what limits he’ll explore tonight…

After about a half-hour’s drive, the car pulls over. “This is it?” I ask, looking around in confusion. The other party was at a grand country estate, every inch decorated with lush flowers and atmospheric candles: romantic and extravagant.

But as I climb out of the car, I find we’re in a deserted warehouse district near the water, with empty storage sheds and industrial equipment sitting around.

Saint gives a grin. “Every Midnights Party is different,” he explains, taking my hand, and leading me in the direction of the low thump of music, echoing through the night. “No two events have the same theme, or atmosphere. There’s always something new to discover. And nobody knows who’s hosting them, either,” he adds. “It’s as much of a mystery as where and when the next event will be.”

“It seems like a fun job,” I say, wondering how someone would even get a position as ‘wild sex party planner..

Saint chuckles. “Fun, and profitable. I know people willing to pay a hundred grand, just to get their hands on one ticket. But the guest list is always a surprise. You never know if you’re going to get an invite.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem getting on the list,” I note. “Clearly, they know your reputation for having a good time.”

My pulse kicks as we approach a nondescript warehouse. It looks just like the others, abandoned and grim—except for the sound of dance music emerging from inside, and the line of foreboding security guards, all masked and stationed out front.

Saint presents our invitation and trades his phone for a small identifying token. Then the guard opens the door for us, steps aside, and ushers us into the dark.

My heart beats faster, as we venture into the gloom. There’s a long hallway, lit with eerie neon lights, and then we emerge in the middle of the party, and my jaw drops.

Talk about glamour and games…

The warehouse is shot through with dazzling spotlights, illuminating the industrial setting for a pulsing rave. Steel beams and brick serve the backdrop for a riotous display of circus performers, acrobats, and even fire-breathers, all dressed in glittering neon, making flashes of color in the dark. There are hundreds of people dancing to the pounding music, dressed to the nines, their masks shot through with UV stripes that seem to bob and float on the dance floor.

It's spectacular.

My grip on Saint’s hand tightens with excitement as we head deeper into the party. Now that my eyes are adjusting to the scene, I can see a neon-lit bar set up along the back wall, with bottles stacked so high to the ceiling that the bartenders climb ladders and swing like acrobats to fetch them. There are dim hallways leading off the main party, with UV stripes like landing signs on the concrete floor marking the way to more private rooms, and in every corner, there’s something new to look at: contortionists, or dancers, or aerialists suspended in long swathes of neon silk; all of them masked and mysterious.

For now, it looks like any other extravagant party, but I know it won’t be long until all that changes.

“What time is it?” I ask Saint eagerly.

He points to a massive digital screen suspended over the party, counting down. Just a few minutes until midnight. “Not long now,” he says, with a seductive smirk beneath the mask. “Would you like a drink?”

I nod, following him through the crowd to the bar. He orders himself a scotch, and a martini for me, and we pause there a moment, sipping and taking in the scene.

There’s a pulse of excitement in the air, everybody glancing to the clock. Counting down.

And then the display resets. Ten seconds. Nine… Eight… Seven…

Saint moves closer, his hands skimming over the silk of my dress as he draws me into his arms.

The crowd stills. A hush falls. The music cuts out as the clock strikes midnight…

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