Page 72 of The Facilitator 1

“Yes.”

“And what exactly is ithere?”

He took a sip of his drink before answering. “A club, a very exclusive, members only, club. Have youdecided?”

I looked at him. “On a wine,” hesaid.

“Oh, I don’t mind, you choose.” I handed him the menu as I perched myself on astool.

“You won’t leave me, will you?” I asked,quietly.

“Of course not,” he said, and then ran the back of his hand gently down my cheek. My stomach flipped at histouch.

He ordered me a glass of wine while I scanned the room. Like the hallway, the walls were panelled with wood halfway, large paintings in ornate frames were hung on every wall. Above the open fire was a large mirror, its glass tinted with age. Red tapestry curtains hung from floor to ceiling windows and two chandeliers gave a warm glow over theroom.

“Shall we sit?” I asked, indicating to a sofa opposite another and separated by a lowtable.

“No, we’re not here tomingle,” he said with asmirk.

“Mingle?” Then it dawned on me. My eyes widened withshock.

Before I could speak, he’d placed one of his fingers over my lips. “Shush,” hesaid.

I quickly took a large sip of my wine, then another. I tried my hardest not to make eye contact, but I was curious about the occupants of the room. They were very well dressed, the women expertly made up. The men were either in suits or smart casual dress. People chatted and laughed, as if on a regular night out. I watched as one couple left the bar and sat on the sofa I’d been looking at. I then watched another couple introduce themselves and join them fordrinks.

“So, if you sit on the sofa it means you want tomingle?” Iwhispered.

Mackenzie laughed, “Yes. If you sit at the bar, or take one of those chairs over there, then you’re not looking tomingle.”

I followed his gaze to a small collection of chairs, in pairs, at one end of theroom.

“Shit,” Iwhispered.

More couples came into the room, each time escorted by the blonde woman and each time, they had drinks waiting for them. I appeared to be the only one asked what my preference was, obviously thenewbie.

Despite what I thought the house was; there was a nice atmosphere. The low hum of voices, the tinkle of laughter, and the crackling of logs on the fire reminded me of a country manorhotel.

“Relax,” he said, running his fingers across the back of myhand.

“I’m trying to. I have to say, this is a gorgeoushouse.”

“Victorian. It still contains a lot of the originalfeatures.”

“You know the house well,then?”

He didn’t answer. He’d already told me he’d been there before, but I was curious to know how many times. I wasn’t sure how comfortable I felt about that. I pushed it to the back of my mind; reminding myself again, there was norelationship.

It seemed as if the people in the room had some kind of internal timer. All at once, they started to rise and either as a couple or in the groups they’d formed they left theroom.

When only two couples were left in the bar, Mackenzie took my hand inhis.

“Come,” hesaid.

I slid from my stool and let him lead me back to the door. My mouth was dry, I hoped from the red wine and not fear. Excitement started to build inside and my stomachflipped.

“Mr. Miller,” I heard. The blonde woman was standing to one side at the base of the staircase. “The Clarence Room,” she said, and then handed him akey.

It was an old-fashioned brass key with a purple rope and tasselledfob.

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