Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
My fake ID had always worked its magic when I needed it to, so as I approached the boutique, I ripped open the envelope to find a thick piece of gold cardstock.
Written across it in raised black lettering were the words:
You’re invited to partake in the sins that abound within Skyn tonight.
The address of a building on the Lower East Side and a list of requirements for those who chose to attend the club followed in a lighter shade of ink.
I needed ID to prove that I’m at least twenty-one.
Check.
I had to surrender my phone when I entered the premises.
I could handle that.
And, I had to honor the privacy of the other guests.
Definitely doable.
I debated going for an entire second before I shoved the invitation in my bag, and bounced into the boutique in search of a dress I could rework to showcase all of my best features. I found it in a little black dress with a too-high lace neckline and a hem that hit above my ankles. I saw the revised version in my mind, so I tugged it off the discount rack, used my gift card and headed straight for the costume shop down the block to grab a mask.
Less than six hours later, I was inside Club Skyn in a dress that looked like it was made for me, because in a way it was.
I’ll be there again tonight if the gold invitation in my hand is worth its weight in…well, gold.
“He won’t be there,” I say to myself as I take one last glance in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. “Dr. Morgan is always working. He will not be there.”
For all I know, the Club has shut down, or tonight is ‘show your face’ night. If that’s the case, I’ll be back home within the hour.
But, if by chance, it’s another private party that requires a mask, I’m game to see what might be in store for me, as long as I can get inside.
“You have nothing to lose,” I tell myself as I check my red lipstick in the mirror. “And everything to Gaines.”
I laugh out loud. “Gain, Eloise. You have everything to gain.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Gaines
A quick shower, a change of suits, and a rummage through a locked box of important documents in the closet of my guest room prepared me for tonight.
Each time I attended a masquerade event at Club Skyn, I’d pick up a new mask online. They were all understated, typically in a dark color, but always disposable.
After I’d have my fun in the form of a forgettable fuck, I’d discard the mask in one of a series of trashcans that lined my route home from the club.
Only once, did I tuck the mask out of sight under my suit jacket to take home with me.
My reasoning at the time was simple.
That mask held the scent of the perfume of sweet Loretta Lamb. I could smell her fragrance on it, and did for days after. It was only when her scent faded that I considered tossing it out like the others.
I didn’t.
I put it in the lock box one afternoon when I was searching for a document related to the purchase of my apartment. It stayed there until an hour ago, when I found it, tried it on as I stood in front of the mirror in my bathroom, and gauged how different I look now versus then.
My hair was shorter the night I was with Eloise. My jaw was shaved clean.
I was lean and fit, but hours in the gym since have honed my muscles. My workouts, when I can fit them into my schedule, are another outlet for release.
It’s no wonder she didn’t have a clue who I was until she heard the word lamb fall from my lips.
I glance out one of the back passenger windows of the SUV I’m in. I opted for a rideshare since light rain has taken the city hostage tonight. The suit I’m wearing is one of the most expensive I own.
I bought two new suits shortly before Berk walked down the aisle to marry Astrid. I wore one to the ceremony. The one I’m in now was still in a garment bag in my closet, waiting for another special occasion.
Tonight fit the bill.
“How are you doing, sir?” The driver asks in a tone that I know is reserved for his customers who look as though they hold the promise of a good tip.
I already added a substantial one to the standard fee when I ordered the ride, but I’ll toss a few bills his way for taking the shorter route to where I’m headed.
“I’m good,” I answer honestly. “You?”
He catches my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Can’t complain.”
I nod in understanding.
“Are you on your way to a date?”
The question is expected since he’s driving toward a restaurant that’s located on the same block as Club Skyn. The mask is inside the inner pocket of my jacket, so to him I’m just a guy on my way to a good meal.