With her easy tone, I give her a short nod and take in an uneasy breath. Faux courage all the way.
“Okay.”
Time slows down as I open the door, and when I close it, the world that feels like something else is muted and I’m met with only descending stairs and silence. Taking the steps one at a time, I go down the staircase. It’s heavy iron in a spiral shape and my heels seem to wobble with every step. At the bottom is a hallway. Expensive paneling lines the walls. It’s not like a basement. It’s less like a fancy speakeasy that the upstairs resembles and far more like private property. It feels like someplace you’d need a password to get into. A passing thought is haunting. If the devil owned real estate on the East Coast, and a sinner perished, I imagine this could very well be the modern gates of hell. Sconces line the walls, the pattern mimicking the spiral staircase. Every small detail drips of wealth.
I swallow thickly and head toward the dark red door near the end of the hall. My heels click in the quiet hall in a menacing way. The echo mocks my racing heart.
Again I wonder which brother I’ll see. Vaguely, I imagine it’ll be nothing like the dreams I’ve had occasionally for years.
The door is in front of me before I know it and I hesitate, my nerves churning in my gut. I knock as confidently as I can.
“Come in.” His voice is deep, his command firm and my body obeys.
The glass knob is cold as I open the door. The door swings easily, not protesting what feels like a sinful act. My dress has ridden up from walking down the stairs and I tug at the hem as I walk in, thankfully hidden by the door. I take a quick glance down to make sure my hem is in place, then look up to see the man at the desk.
My heart skitters, forgetting its beat when his eyes find mine.
I know him. A chill runs down my skin and time pauses, only for a moment.
It’s the youngest brother, Declan. I’d recognize his eyes anywhere. The curve of his jaw is sharper and lined with a five-o’clock shadow.
He’s no longer an impoverished boy with dark clouds in his eyes.
The man looks more expensive than the office, and this office … Dark wood gleams underneath framed prints of cityscapes, and all the neutral colors work together to highlight the man at his desk. He stands up from his seat, revealing a tall, muscular body in a tailored button-down. He strides slowly around to the front of his desk and leans against it. Heat crawls down the back of my neck. I knew him before, but this isn’t the person I knew. This man is radiating power and control.
He looks me up and down. “It’s quite a short dress.”
“Declan—”
“Most go with Mr. Cross.”
“I’m sorry.” My lips feel oversensitive, almost numb. I can barely move, let alone control the words tumbling from me. Intimidation does not at all do this moment justice.
“Don’t be.” His eyes roam over me, undressing me. “If that’s what you want to call me.”
I flush violently. I’m as red as my dress now. Gathering my composure, I remind myself that I’m working. This is a job. A loud tick reminds me that time continues on. It moves and so should I. “You wanted a drink?”
“No.”
My fingers lace between each other in front of me as I stand just in front of the doorway, the light from the hall still filtering in. Please don’t ask me to close it. That's all I can think. I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I were locked in with him.
I question with my tone relatively even, “Is there something I can do for you, then?”
“I’m sure there is.” His fingers toy with something on his desk. A small metal die, I think. He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I stepped into the room. Everywhere his gaze lands, it burns my skin. “You just started today?”
I nod, clearing my throat.
“You have questions.”
“I just started so there are some, but I’m learning quickly.” It’s so quiet between us, I’m certain he can hear me swallow.
“Scarlet referred you?”
“Yes.”
He nods. “Did she suggest you wear red or did you decide that on your own?”
I’m overheating in his presence. It would be rude to look away from him, but he’s so striking that I want to close my eyes. Simply glancing in his direction gives him some kind of power over me.
Even worse, my mind keeps trying to compare him to the boy he was, but it’s impossible in the face of the man he’s become. His question hangs in the air between us. It wasn’t as casual as he made it sound. I know that much, at least.
“Scarlet said I could wear red or black or white.” I don’t want to say anything to get Scarlet in trouble. She told me the colors to choose from, and I chose. Although she told me I looked best in red.
“Scarlet told you that?”
“Yes.” She also told me shorter was better, but maybe I didn’t go short enough. Scarlet and Angela are both wearing shorter dresses than I am. Or maybe, as the new girl, I’m supposed to wear something longer. “Is my dress okay?”
Declan stares me in the eye. “Red means you’d like to be fucked.”
Shock blanks out my mind in a cold realization, followed by embarrassment. There’s a rushing sound in my ears that won’t go away. People have seen me, up there in the club. I’ve been waiting tables. Every man who smiled at me thought I was offering to come downstairs with him. “Excuse me?”
Declan smirks at me, setting the die down. “I imagine Scarlet didn’t tell you that.”
“She didn’t.” My nerves react with anxiousness. “And that is not why I wore this—” I swallow a burst of fear. “I’m not—” before I can explain myself, he cuts me off.
“From now on, I’d like you to wear black. Don’t ever wear red again.” Declan narrows his eyes. “But you can keep the lipstick. If anyone asks for you tonight, inform them that the boss has requested you. Is that understood?”
It’s quiet as I stare at him, taking in every word he’s said as if it’s a drug. It’s an order. He’s so commanding with his tone that it makes my knees go weak. Scarlet didn’t tell me everything there was to know about The Club. She might be wrong about what Declan wants too. If he’s requesting me now …
“Say ‘yes, sir,” he prompts.
“Yes, sir.”
His brow furrows like I’ve upset him somehow. It’s not an expression I recognize from when I used to know him. He used to be soft and gentle. A good kid. Now there’s a hardness to every detail of his expression. Life hasn’t been kind to him. It’s made him tougher. His eyes darken as he watches me in my red dress that he disapproves of. “No one touches you,” he says.
“I—”
I’m interrupted from questioning him when his phone rings. Declan takes one look at the screen and puts it to his ear. “Yes,” he says, his eyes still on me. I let out a breath. This is my cue to leave, my skin still prickling with a cautious unease. I shouldn’t listen in on his calls. He’s still on the phone as I turn to leave and grant him privacy.
“Braelynn.” My name in his voice stops me with a shiver, the door halfway open with my hand gripping the frame. I turn back. Declan leans on his desk, in control and at ease with the situation. “It’s good to see you.”