Page 87 of Chandelier Enthralled
A thought captured my imagination. It would be lovely to come here with Greyson; his love of form and his ability to honor mood meant he would appreciate this.
Faux candles flickered, their soft glow casting a mystical light like I’d never seen before. They seemed to sway in rhythm with the music, as if the flames were conspiring with the notes themselves, dancing together in some unspoken harmony.
The poignancy of this moment—being here with my brothers—brought tears to my eyes, a visceral reaction to something profoundly moving and impossibly beautiful.
They knew what I needed—time with them, and this… Forming new memoires with those I trusted above all else.
Sitting here with them, in a strange town having lost everything, I still couldn’t seem to shake the pain of all that New York had done to me.
“In case you hadn’t guessed already,” said Cameron, “this is about bringing the light back in.”
I pressed a trembling hand to my mouth, struggling to contain the rush of emotions threatening to spill out of me. Fear and confusion churned within me, a silent storm sparked by the uncertainty of my future, my life, and the vast, unknown path stretching ahead.
“You’re here now,” said Henry softly. “We’ve got you.”
Iremained in the parked BMW on a side street, a few minutes’ walk from the mysterious club, trying to convince myself I was up to carrying out my plan.
I had donned a masquerade mask—intricately crafted from black lace, adorned with delicate silver filigree patterns that glittered. I hoped to move about unnoticed, my identity concealed.
Having never dressed up so seductively before, it was kind of fun to step out of my comfort zone. With winged eyeliner and bright red lipstick, I was going for sultry. My burlesque outfit was sensually snug, the bodice designed with a low cut to emphasize my boobs. It had elegant hooks at the front. The mini skirt showed off my long legs and fishnet tights. My black, sky-high stilettos made me appear taller.
The reality of what I was about to do hit me suddenly.
I’d never been so reckless.
The Burberry coat was my way of keeping my outfit hidden, so I didn’t have an embarrassing moment in case I’d misread the dress code.
Julia had asked for a Pulitzer Prize-winning story—a tale so unflinching, it would demand the world’s attention. I wanted to find this story for her, not just for my journalistic reputation, but to escape from my haunted thoughts.
Every day my mind drifted back to Hugo, andthiscould be the cure.
If I came through and was brave enough to do what had to be done, my career would be made. I’d no longer be mocked at family Sunday dinners, having to face their patronizing tones when they asked what I was doing with my life. They’d have to take my career seriously.
Bravery came at a cost; one I wasn’t sure I could stomach. Because the story I might uncover—the one that now burned in my chest—wasn’t just any story.
It was personal—it could potentially involve my brother. I would see to it that he was never mentioned to those who have tried to take him down.
I had to come back here, back to this secret location with no address on Google maps.
But as I sat in the car, stirring up courage to go inside, I couldn’t shake the thought of how Henry would react—especially after he had been so adamant about me staying out of harm’s way. Big brothers were always trying to stop your fun.
Admittedly, stealing a bottle of booze from Cameron’s cabinet was a low move. But, as my professor at Brown always insisted,“Take a prop. Blend in.” Preferably an object pertaining to the place you were trying to access.
I opened the car door and got out, walking the long distance with my heart racing every step of the way. Then, I began climbing the steps of the tall building, carrying the bottle of Bombay Sapphire.
As I approached the front door, the imposing lion knocker loomed before me, and my heart pounded loudly in my ears, my palms growing clammy. I gripped the limited-edition bottle of Bombay Sapphire tightly, my legs shaking with every step.
I raised my hand to knock, and the door flew open.
An annoyed looking concierge stared down at me. “Yes?”
“Traffic,” I said. “You know how it goes.”
“Are you a member?”
“G ordered this?” I held up the blue bottle.
The towering bulky guy eyed it suspiciously.
