by Stella Hart
Nate lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. “No need to thank me. It’s not a gift.”
“What is it, then?” I asked, forehead wrinkling.
“I’ve noticed your phone battery is really shitty. Barely lasts five hours without needing to be charged,” he replied. “The watch is a backup so I can still find you even if it dies.”
I arched an eyebrow. “How? Is there a tracking device on it?”
“Sort of.” He took the watch and lifted up the ornate face. Beneath it was a small digital face.
“Oh, wow. I had no idea that was there,” I said, peering at it with surprise.
“It’s an upgraded Fitbit. It’s designed to look like a regular watch.”
“How can it track me?” I asked. “I thought these things only track footsteps and heart rate.”
“It has a GPS tracker as well as the other monitors, and it’s all linked to an app on my phone. The location can be tracked right down to the square foot. So if we get separated and I can’t call you, I can just look on the app and it’ll tell me exactly where you are.”
“That’s clever,” I said, snapping the watch around my left wrist. I raised an eyebrow. “Should we go?”
Nate nodded and led me downstairs to his car.
The Mayfair Club was twenty minutes north of Arcadia Bay, nestled on a massive parcel of land next to a fir grove. I must’ve driven past the spot and seen the main building a hundred times before, and until now, I’d never had any clue that it was an exclusive member’s only club. I suppose that was the point, though—it was a secret that only Avalon’s finest were allowed to know.
We stopped outside the wrought iron gates, and a bored-looking security guard in a booth asked us for our names and IDs. He checked our licenses against something on his computer screen and passed them back to us with a curt nod. “You’re good to go,” he said. “You won’t be able to enter through the main entrance, because you aren’t members, so you’ll need to find the side entrance.”
“Where’s that?” Nate asked.
The guard leaned out of the booth and pointed down the hedge-lined road that led up to the spectacular club building. “Take a left at the end of this road,” he said. “Then swing around to the right when you see a sign that says Parking Lot B. That’ll get you close to the side entrance. It’s locked, so you’ll have to knock and wait for someone to let you in.”
“All right. Thanks.”
The gate slowly slid open for us. Nate pulled the car through, steered it toward Parking Lot B, and parked in a guest spot.
The Mayfair Club was alive with warm golden lights, making it glow like a bonfire against the dark night sky. I widened my eyes and stared up at it as we stepped toward the tall wooden doors right ahead of us. None of the photos online did it justice. It seemed far bigger and more imposing in person, like a royal palace.
“Ready?” Nate asked, one hand poised above the golden door knocker. It was in the shape of a bull’s head.
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.”
A tall brunette woman in a black linen dress answered the door a moment later. “You must be Ms. Livingston and Mr. Lockwood,” she said with a polite smile. “This way, please.”
She led us into a round foyer. A series of well-lit halls surrounded the space, all converging at the central point and radiating out from there to different parts of the building.
The woman who’d greeted us at the door motioned toward a large circular seat which sat in the middle of the foyer. “Please take a seat. I’ll go and let Ms. Ellesmere know you’ve arrived.”
I sat down and gazed around the extravagant room in wonder. It had been decorated with oil paintings and bronze statues of bulls, and the high ceiling was covered in swirling bronze embellishments.
“This is just the staff section,” I whispered to Nate. “Imagine how gorgeous the member’s section must be.”
“I thought you saw photos of it already,” he replied, looking slightly amused at my excitement.
“I did, but it’s way more impressive in person,” I said, marveling at an abstract painting directly across from our seat.
As I tried to figure out who the artist was, a petite middle-aged woman wearing a blue and white dress and silver jewelry emerged from the closest hall and stepped toward us with a smile on her face.
“Hello. I’m Victoria Ellesmere,” she said, holding out a hand. “You can just call me Victoria.”
I stood up and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you,” I said, pasting on a warm smile.
“Are you related to Gerald Ellesmere?” Nate asked as he shook her hand a moment later.
She nodded and smiled again. “Yes, he’s my father. He’s retired now, so I own and run the Mayfair with my husband and our business partners,” she said. “Now, if you’ll follow me, we can get started on this interview.”
A lump of fear suddenly appeared in my throat as we followed her down a long hallway. Surely she would see right through me and realize I didn’t belong in her exclusive club; that I was essentially nothing more than a spy.
Nate glanced over at me and squeezed my hand. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re going to be fine.”
I nodded and tried to focus on my breathing as we headed farther into the building. In, out. In, out.
Victoria led us into an exquisitely-decorated office at the end of the hall and gestured to two upholstered wingback chairs. “Take a seat.”
She sat behind her large Chippendale desk and glanced at some paperwork before looking back up at us with a quizzical expression. “Before we start on the official questions, I want to ask you something, Mr. Lockwood,” she said, focusing her gaze on Nate. “Your mother is Annalise Lockwood, isn’t she?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
“She’s an esteemed Mayfair member, and many other relatives of yours have been members over the years, too,” Victoria said, brows knitting. “So my question is: are you aware that as a Lockwood, you’re all but guaranteed an invitation to join if you just wait until you turn twenty-five? You won’t have to go through this application process then.”
“I’m aware,” Nate replied, keeping his expression as impenetrable as concrete. “But I don’t want to wait that long. I’d rather join right now, with Alexis.”
Victoria nodded slowly and fiddled with the pendant on her necklace. “Well, it’s your decision, of course. But if you change your mind further along in the process, I’ll understand. Applying without an official invitation is definitely not for everyone.” She let those words hang in the air for a few seconds. Then she picked up a pen and turned her attention to me. “Anyway, let’s get started. Ms. Livingston, your application said that you’re currently a student at Blackthorne University?”
“That’s right.”
“What are you studying there?”
“Journalism.”
“Oh, how wonderful. What made you pick that?”
I gave her a generic answer about my thirst for knowledge and love for storytelling, because there was no way I could tell her the truth—that it was all in pursuit of my father’s vindication. She nodded and smiled as I spoke, marking little boxes and scrawling notes on the papers in front of her.
There were at least fifty questions after that first one; all of them clearly designed to get an idea of our backgrounds, personalities, interests, and habits. It felt like an interrogation, and my heart hammered the whole time. The only thing that kept me grounded was the knowledge that Nate was right next to me, ready to squeeze my hand and reassure me whenever the nerves threatened to choke me again.
After we’d been in the office for what felt like an hour, Victoria paused and shuffled the papers around before looking up at us again.
“This is probably the most important question,” she said, leaning forward with her hands clasped on the desk in a pyramidal shape. “What made the two of you want to join us at the Mayfair Club?”
Nate spoke up first. “I guess you could say we’
re looking to experience a different sort of nightlife beyond all the frat parties and city clubs that we’re used to going to,” he said in a casual tone, as if it were a completely off-the-cuff answer and not something we’d rehearsed multiple times.
I nodded. “We’d really like to broaden our horizons, and we’d prefer to do it somewhere where we can be surrounded by our peers,” I added. “Somewhere our privacy is valued and ensured.”
“I see.” Victoria nodded slowly and scribbled another note on the paperwork. “Are you aware that the membership fees are ten thousand dollars per year?”
“Yes,” I said, pulse picking up as anticipation built in my chest. That last question was a good sign. If Victoria wasn’t interested in letting us join, she wouldn’t have brought up the fees.
She confirmed my thoughts a second later. “Well, I have to say, I think you two are great candidates,” she said, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m happy to proceed to the next stage of the application process if you are.”
“We are,” Nate said with a firm nod.
Victoria leaned over to her right and rifled around in a drawer. She produced some more paperwork and sat up straight.
“This next part will sound a little odd, but rest assured we have a good reason for it,” she said, sliding the papers over to us. “We like to ensure the good health of all our members, and part of that involves us asking prospective members to provide a blood sample for testing. We have a small rapid-testing laboratory on the premises that can deliver results within forty-five minutes. Is that all right with you?”
“That’s fine,” I said with a nod.
“Excellent. If you’ll just read and sign these forms, we can get started on that as soon as possible.”
I scanned the printed text on the paper she’d given to me. It was a basic medical consent form which gave permission to the Mayfair Club to take a blood sample from me, test it for certain infections, and view my results.
I scrawled my signature on the bottom, and Nate followed suit with his own form.
“Perfect,” Victoria said, taking the papers from us. She stood up. “I’ll take you to the lab now.”
We followed her out of the office and down the hall. She opened a door on our right and led us into a room that looked like a doctor’s office on one side and a lab on the other.
“I’ll be back to see you when your results are available,” she said. She left our forms on a nearby table before turning on her heel and exiting the room.
A small woman with dark hair scraped into a severe bun came over and took our blood samples. After she was finished, she led us across the hall and into yet another room.
It was a large space with baroque gold leaf sofas, a low mahogany coffee table, tall bookshelves, and a hearth with a roaring fire in it. Soft classical music filtered through the air from hidden speakers.
“You can wait here while your samples are being processed,” the woman told us. “An attendant will be with you shortly.”
A moment later, a young man in black pants and a crisp white shirt appeared with two menus. He handed them to us with a friendly smile. “If you’d like anything at all, please let me know. There’s no charge,” he said. “There’s a call button on the wall over there, so you can reach me whenever you want.”
With that, he stepped out of the room, leaving us to our own devices.
I put my menu down on the table without looking at it. I couldn’t face the thought of eating or drinking anything right now. My stomach was churning too much.
I wasn’t actually sure which part of this evening I was more nervous about—sleeping with a complete stranger, or sleeping with someone that wasn’t Nate.
He looked over at me, seemingly sensing my trepidation. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, brows dipping in a concerned expression. “It’s not too late to back out.”
I swallowed hard and took a deep breath. “I’m okay,” I finally said in a small voice. “Are you okay with it?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Are you sure you don’t want to get out of here? You look like you’re about to have a heart attack.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I want to do this. I just keep worrying that they’ll figure out why we’re really here after we make it in,” I said, hands trembling on my lap. “If they do, they’ll release the tape.”
Nate lay a hand on my thigh. “If it happens, it happens,” he said stoically. “We’ll deal with it.”
He didn’t say anything beyond that, but his hand remained on my leg, warm and comforting.
As the minutes marched by, I started to relax. The more I thought about it, the more I realized the Mayfair owners couldn’t possibly figure out our real reason for joining. All we were going to do was explore the different bars and nightclubs like every other member. It wouldn’t look strange or suspicious.
Maybe you should even try to have fun with it, a little voice whispered in the back of my mind. When in Rome, right? Besides, how often are you going to get the chance to sleep with two hot men at once?
Truth be told, a threesome had always been a recurring fantasy of mine. I just never thought it would happen… at least, not like this.
A hot, tingly feeling appeared between my legs as I pictured a stranger’s hands roaming all over my body while Nate’s tongue slid between my thighs.
I squirmed on the sofa, biting my bottom lip, and Nate glanced at me again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, brows knitting with concern.
I felt a flush creep up my neck. “Yes.”
Before I could say anything else, the door opened and Victoria appeared with a clipboard in her arms. “Sorry about the wait,” she said with a breezy smile. “I’m happy to report that you’re both in perfect health.”
I returned her smile. “That’s great.”
She took a seat on the opposite sofa. “Once our prospective members have reached this stage, we ask them to sign a non-disclosure agreement,” she said, placing the clipboard on the coffee table along with two pens. “Anything that happens beyond this point is off-limits for discussion outside the Mayfair, even if you choose to leave five minutes from now.”
“We understand,” Nate said, reaching for the clipboard.
We read and signed the NDA forms. Victoria took them and nodded with satisfaction as she looked over them. Then she turned her attention back to us, head cocked slightly to one side.
“The final stage often comes as quite a shock to our applicants,” she said. “I admit, it’s rather unorthodox, but we find it to be an effective method to weed out those who aren’t serious about joining us here at the Mayfair. It’s an entertainment center at its heart, so we look for people who truly want to have fun in this environment. People with open minds.”
Nate lifted a palm. “We actually know what the final part of the application involves,” he said. “So you don’t need to explain it to us.”
Victoria’s brows rose. “You already know?”
“Yes. My mother told us about it.” Nate leaned forward with a conspiratorial look on his face. “I know she wasn’t meant to do that, because we aren’t members yet, but she’s never cared about rules.”
Victoria looked taken aback. “Oh. I see. What are your thoughts on it?”
“We’re fine with it.”
“You don’t want to take some time to think about it? Most people take a few minutes,” she said with wide eyes. We’d clearly caught her off guard.
“We’ve already thought about it,” Nate replied. “We think it sounds great.”
“We want to expand our horizons, remember?” I added, arching a brow. “So why not start with this?”
A slow smile spread across Victoria’s face, and she leaned forward. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I have a feeling you two will fit in very well with certain parts of the club,” she said.
Nate returned her smile with a devilish one of his own. “Glad to hear it.”
&nbs
p; “If you’ll just give me a minute, I can call in the candidates.” Victoria rose to her feet and left the room.
When she returned, six very attractive people were with her—three women and three men. We stood to greet them.
“So, you know how it works,” Victoria said, making the new arrivals line up. “Which way do you want to go?”
“We want to do it together,” Nate said, taking my hand.
“Very well. Make your pick.”
Nate leaned closer to me and murmured against the shell of my ear. “It’s your decision.”
“What if I pick a guy?” I whispered back. I knew some men out there weren’t happy with the idea of devil’s threesomes and only wanted two women at the same time.
Nate didn’t even blink. “Like I said, it’s your decision.”
I nodded slowly and looked at the women first. The one on the very left was petite with red hair and luminous green eyes. The one next to her was tall and curvaceous with long blonde hair, and the last was slim with smooth brown skin, corkscrew curls, and catlike hazel eyes. They were all beautiful.
I turned my attention to the men next. They were tall, muscular, and very handsome. The first one had light brown hair and brown eyes, the second had black hair and green eyes, and the last... well, the last was practically Nate. He looked so similar with his thick dark hair, intense blue eyes, and square jaw that I almost did a double take.
Having him in my bed would be like having two Nates.
“Him,” I murmured, turning back to Nate.
He didn’t question my decision. He simply nodded and informed Victoria.
“Wonderful,” she said, clasping her hands together. “This gorgeous man is Brad. Brad, are you happy with this?”
Brad grinned as his eyes raked over me. “Definitely.”
The undercurrent of desire in his voice coiled every muscle in my body, and I felt all the hairs on my arms stand up. This was it. There was no going back now.
“Let’s go, then.” Victoria dismissed the other dancers and led Nate, Brad, and me into another hallway in the staff section of the Mayfair.