The Midnight Club

CHAPTER THREE - Coal

THE CLIENT

New York at night was populated with bodies. Drunk cliques clung to each other. Chattering groups slid into taxis. Couples strode down sidewalks, bundled in coats, their arms linked.

The car paused at a streetlight and my gaze snagged on a pair sat outside a café. A man and woman, both in heavy coats. They wore matching scarves. He wiped a crumb from her cheek. The sound of her laughter filled the air.

I looked away.

The driver was the same one who'd taken me to the tiny serial-killer-esque trash-hole the Midnight Club called a headquarters. He'd transformed back into a statue, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Everything about his demeanour indicated he was the only one in the car. As if I didn't exist.

My phone chimed. I made the mistake of checking it.

News Notification:

Landon Bradley Announces Engagement to Chloe Hayes

The world went silent.

For a moment, I couldn't move.

Then, I forced air into my lungs. With numb fingers, I switched off the phone and returned it to my purse. I stared out the window, but I could see nothing.

Of course he'd announce their engagement, why wouldn't he?

For a second, I imagined throwing the purse outside and watching the wheel of a car crush it into oblivion.

I don't care.

I didn't care.

I didn't care what they did. I didn't care that every word that came out of his mouth had been a fucking lie. I didn't care about his stupid, pointless, idiotic life. If he dropped dead tomorrow, I wouldn't even blink. He was a liar and a traitor and he was nothing to me.

The world outside had become a blur, each building indistinguishable from the next.

He was such a bloody liar.

I didn't notice when the car stopped. I barely paid attention as I was shepherded from a shadowed street into dimly lit corridors.

When I blinked, I was standing in front of a golden door.

At the door's centre was an elaborate carving of a rose, framed by a web of vines and thorns. The vines reminded me of tentacles.

A shiver ran down my spine.

The hallway I stood in was softly lit, with marble walls and a white and gold carpet. A set of double doors stood at each end of the hall; I had no idea which set led to the exit.

The driver was gone.

I stared at the gold door.

Tomorrow, I would be orchestrating the biggest deal in the history of online marketplaces. Tomorrow, almost a decade of hard work would pay off. And I was in what was probably some kind of hotel, doing what? Wasting an hour of my life talking to a stranger? This was pathetic, and delusional, and idiotic. And I shouldn't be here.

And yet, here I was.

Everything about tonight had been indecision, after indecision, after indecision. Alexandria De Roux was not indecisive. She made her own choices, and dealt with the consequences herself.

Whatever came next, let it.

I swiped the card and entered the room.

Within was a large suite. The floors and walls were marble, furnished with crimson and gold armchairs and gossamer curtains. Painted porcelain vases (overflowing with roses) decorated the room, and a crystal chandelier dangled from the ceiling. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the brightness.