Page 22 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

When she arrives at the alley behind Clandestine’s Closet, Jessica stops to change her shoes. She tosses her earbuds into her purse, then slides into her best black platform heels. Raking her fingers through her hair, she throws her curls down her back and sweeps her fingers across her forehead, in an attempt to wipe away the thin layer of sweat gathered there. Knowing she’s running short on time, she ignores the knots in her belly and strides toward the spot Stefano instructed with as much confidence as she can muster. The closer she gets to her destination, the harder it is for her to keep her cool.

Just two nights,she reminds herself with a shake of her head.For mom—the woman who gave up everything for me. I can do this. I can do this for her.

The back door of Clandestine’s is hardly different than any of the other doors that line the stretch of establishments along Broadway; however, the black door marked with the white cursive font of the store’s name seems to loom over her forebodingly. For a moment, Jessica stares at it, well aware that as soon as she crosses the threshold, she’ll be stepping into a forbidden realm she never thought she’d know.

Well—when life throws a punch, you don’t cower in the corner.Reaching for the handle, Jessica reminds herself,You fight the bitch with everything you’ve got.

She practically hears Stefano’s sigh before she sees him. He stops his pacing as soon as they lock eyes, and Jessica wonders how long he’s been walking in circles in wait.

At first, he says nothing. He stares at her intently, his hazel eyes dark with a meaning she knows better than to interpret. Finally, he takes hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers tighter than is comfortable. She doesn’t mind.

“I’ve never been so annoyed at how goddamn gorgeous you are,” he mutters as he stomps down the hallway. “Come.”

She trails after him without argument, too out of sorts to be flattered by his words. Rather than escorting her toward the door at the end of the corridor, they walk a short distance before he takes a sharp right. With a long skeleton key, he opens what looks like a closet door, revealing a stairwell. But it’s no ordinary stairwell. The walls are painted a dark purple, and the antique lamps mounted on them—illuminating their path—seem beautifully out of place. When they reach the bottom of the stairs, Jessica becomes fully aware she’s descended into an entirely different world.

Her feet slow without her permission as her eyes dance around the narrow, rectangular room. It’s immediately obvious she’s in what must be a staging area. Rather than a rich purple, the walls are painted lavender. The added texture makes the paint look old yet beautiful, and the three, gigantic, gold chandeliers in the middle of the room cast a soft light on every workstation. It’s got abackstage at a fashion showvibe, but far classier, more elegant, and—Victorian. Lining both sides of the room are a variety of mismatched, antique vanity table sets. They’re each elaborately hand carved with embellishments that seem both out of place and yet perfectly suited to the rest of the décor. No one occupies any of the stations at the moment, and the lamps at each spot are darkened, but Jessica’s belly flutters as she imagines the room full of women.

Taking in the cream-colored chase lounges in the center of the room, accented with gold and complete with pale purple throw pillows, Jessica grapples with a measure of confusion she wasn’t expecting. There’s something about the gorgeous, French-Victorian room juxtaposed with the purpose behind why the room exists that doesn’t quite add up in her mind. The ambiance she stumbles through feels more akin to a courtesan of a story book—fantasy stripping the scene of any grime and disorder—not a prostitute in the twenty-first century.

Prostitute? Really? Shit, Jess.

“This is where the girls get ready. When you come in, any open vanity is fair game. We’ve got clientele in here every night, but none of the girls work more than two or three nights a week, so there’s no need for anyone to get too settled,” Stefano informs her.

Jessica nods, latching onto his words in an attempt to forget her own.

Stefano leads her through a heavy velvet curtain, and they step into a long hallway. Jessica’s jaw falls open a little as she stares down the length of the corridor. It’s quite apparent the world in which she has entered is larger and more extravagant than she ever imagined. She wonders exactly how big the place is. Before she can ask, Stefano is standing in front of her, his face void of its usual warmth or carefree demeanor. He takes hold of her chin, and she shuts her mouth as she stares up into his eyes.

“I won’t ever forgive myself for this,” he starts to say.

“Stef—”

“Just remember what we agreed.”

She nods as much as his hold will allow and whispers, “Two nights.”

“And Beatrice doesn’t need to know,” he warns.

“Of course not.”

Stefano sucks in a deep breath through his nose, his grip still firm on her chin. He then plants a solid kiss against her forehead and lets her go. He runs a hand down the length of his tie and turns toward the door directly across the hall. Jessica watches as he rolls his shoulders before knocking. Her stomach twists as she hears a voice calling for him to enter followed by aclicksignaling the door is open. She can barely breathe when Stefano steps inside, leaving her alone in the hallway.

He gone too long and yet not long enough. When he reappears in the doorway, Jessica recognizes she’s no longer in the presence ofHuey, her closest friend in the world. No, she’s being beckoned bythe gatekeeperof Clandestine’s. He turns, leaving enough space for both of them in the doorway, sweeping his hand into the room as a sign for her to enter. Her stomach drops, feeling heavier than it has all day. She doesn’t know how she manages to pick up one foot and then another, only that she finds herself in Beatrice’s large, gorgeously decadent office a moment later. Her eyes are everywhere, taking in the details of the room, until she hears the click of the door behind her.

A small gasp passes through her lips, her whole body jerking as she turns her head to find she’s been closed in—Stefano no longer in sight.

“I should have known.”

As fast as her head snapped to peer behind her, Jessica’s attention is drawn to the woman across the room. For as long as she’s known about Beatrice, she’s wondered what the madam might look like. Extravagantly beautiful as she always imagined the woman to be, the gorgeous creature before her almost takes Jessica’s breath away. While Beatrice is no longer young, she is strikingly radiant. One look at her, and Jessica understands the elegance that exudes from every corner of the establishment is a manifestation of the woman who runs the place.

When she begins to make her way from behind her desk, Jessica remembers she has spoken. Before she can find the words to reply, Beatrice speaks again.

“He said you were an exceptional beauty. But you, my dear, are positively exquisite.”

Jessica looks down at herself, self-consciously smoothing a hand over her flat belly and the best dress she has. It’s useless to compare herself tothe Queen Bea, but she finds it hard to believe Beatrice—in the sleek and stylish dress she’s wearing—could consider herexquisite.

Nevertheless, she wills herself to find her manners and her voice as she replies, “Thank you.”

“Come,” Beatrice instructs, motioning toward the sitting area in front of the fireplace. It’s filled with cream candles of all shapes and sizes, each of them lit now, the light of the flames dancing within the confines of the fire pit. “Sit with me. Let us chat for a moment.”

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