A Secret Untold

Chapter 2

Selene's POV

"Watch where you're going," a man sneered as I bumped into him. I returned his scowl with one of my own. I kept going, tempted to trip him but decided against it. I kept my face cast downwards, watching the path as I made my way toward the pub at the corner of Madison Street. Music flowed through my ears only to exit out again. The only thing I could focus on was the boy from the metro train.

"Hey, Gumdrop."

Gumdrop.

I could have misheard him. Perhaps he meant, "Hey, gun drop," or "stop, drop" as in I should let him go and stop my actions. Or maybe I did not. Perhaps he knows me, but that's impossible. I silently laughed for having such a thought.

No one knows me.

Not like Chris did.

Chris.

I disregarded the thoughts bombarding my mind and kept moving. My stomach grumbled, and my feet were sore. The smell of freshly baked desserts wafted in the morning air, mixing with the scent of fresh dew. It could have been so easy to snatch a snack from here or there. So tempting.

Finally, I made it to my destination. The neon sign glowed in the day reading The Royal Oak. Upon my entrance a bell rang, announcing my presence. The place was empty, most likely because the place was closed. Who would leave the door unlocked? The bartender who was cleaning the counter looked up, surprised by the intrusion.

"I'm sorry but were clo__" he cut himself off once he looked my way. "What do you want?"

"I'm here for business."

He looked at me unsurely before heading where the VIP sector was held. I made myself comfortable as I waited for him to return. The club hasn't changed. Bottles of liquor lined the wall behind the counter. Expensive leather chairs lined across the opposite side of the bar. A square dance floor changing into every color stretched across the center of the room. A disco ball hung from the ceilings, surrounded by lights changing every color imaginable to the mind. Up ahead laid a station where a DJ would play if they were open. On the sides of the corners of the large room sat tables with white L-shaped sofas. A staircase in the back led upstairs where another floor layered the edges of the club, wide enough for sitting areas but not covering the ceiling so that those who sat could look at those on the bottom floor. This was a very popular club. I wonder if anyone knew what truly happens underneath this facade.

Paul, the bartender, descended half the stairs, just enough so that I could see him, and sent a nod in my direction. I joined him on the top floor, where business took place.

I ascended the marble staircase, skipping every other step. When I made my way up, I saw two figures sitting on the couch as six other men in dark suits watched over.

One man on the couch stood apart from the rest. A double-breasted, white worsted suit complimented his physique. Well-fitted, the outlines of every muscled silently made themselves noticed, depicting his strength. Even his face, barely lit in the light, is attractive, sculpted by the gods themselves.

Such a waste of perfection.

As he spoke to someone next to him, whispers of their conversation floated across the room. I caught them midway, listening to as much as I could. His eyebrows scrunched together as the man beside him showed him something on a device. I waited near the staircase. The two of them were in a deep conversation until Paul notified him of my existence. The man looked up, and the instant his cold eyes reached mine, any hint of distress evaporated, replaced with a coy smile and a flicker of excitement.