Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70524 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
The man looks up at us and grins. It’s the kind of grin that pierces your soul, a knowing, toothy smile that makes you feel like he can read your mind.
The door already weirded me out, and now I’m starting to get a little more freaked.
Part of me is screaming to grab my pepper spray, discharge it directly into the eyes of both Maddox and this odd man, and turn tail and run.
But another part of me wants to see how far this rabbit hole goes.
And that part is in control tonight.
6
MADDOX
Alissa’s eyes are wide.
She looks nervous, but at the same time unyielding.
I realize how this place must look to a newcomer.
Chet, the club bouncer, is a weird-looking guy. A weird guy in general, if I’m being honest. But he’s harmless.
The sofas and chairs lined in rabbit fur are also an odd choice. The whole place gives off casting-couch vibes, for sure.
I squeeze her shoulder gently, look into her eyes. “It’s okay, Alissa. You’re safe here with me.”
She seems to relax.
I gesture to Chet. “This is Chet. He’ll be checking us in.”
Chet leers at Alissa. “Is this your first time, young lady?” His voice is smooth, almost playful, with a slight rasp.
She swallows. “Yes, sir.”
Chet’s eyes widen. “No need to call me sir. I’m Chester Tabbit, the club bouncer. You can call me Chet. I’m responsible for checking members in.”
He reaches out with a bony hand, which Alissa tentatively shakes.
Chet turns to me. “ID?”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, Chet. You know who I am. I’ve been coming here for years now.”
Chet’s perpetual grin doesn’t falter. “And as I have told you before, Mr. Hathaway, the only person who gets in without ID is Rouge. Club policy. Everyone else, no matter who they are—politicians, businessmen, even the President of the United States himself—has to show ID at the front door and be checked against the list.”
I nod and grab my wallet out of the inner pocket of my suit jacket. I pull out my driver’s license and hand it to Chet.
“You too, miss.” Chet nods toward Alissa.
She uneasily reaches into her bag, pulls out her wallet, and hands her license to Chet.
He looks at both of the ID’s, pausing on Alissa’s.
“Maravilla. A beautiful name. Spanish, I assume?”
She nods. “Yes. My father was born in Spain.”
“It means wonder, doesn’t it?”
Her lip twitches. “Yes. I don’t speak much Spanish myself. I was raised in London, moved to Chicago to go to school at Northwestern.”
“An excellent school, Ms. Wonder,” Chet says. “And I could tell from your accent that you were from overseas. Are you here as a guest of Mr. Hathaway?”
“Y-Yes.”
“Excellent.” Chet grabs a large dusty book from behind him and slams it on top of his pink desk. He opens it, looking back at my ID.
He traces a yellow fingernail up and down the page. “Hathaway… Hathaway… Hathaway. Here you are, Mr. Hathaway.”
Alissa looks up at me. “Does he check this list manually every time?”
I nod. “It’s the rules.”
Chet looks back up at me, his eyes shiny. “Mr. Hathaway, you are allowed one guest for the evening. If she leaves, you will not be permitted to bring another person into the club for the rest of the night. Is Ms. Maravilla here your chosen guest?”
“Yep. Just as she said.”
Chet closes the book. “It’s important that both parties confirm.”
Chet stands, reaches into his suit jacket, and produces a brass skeleton key. He walks over to the black door at the rear of the room and places the key in the lock, turning it.
Chet opens the door slowly, staring at us both with the same grin he’s kept on his face since we walked into the room.
“Welcome, my friends, to Aces Underground.”
7
ALISSA
Oh, my God.
Fuck this.
The door Chet opened leads to a dark staircase that looks like it’s descending into the bowels of the Earth itself.
I’m definitely being sold off into human slavery. Aces Underground is some kind of sex dungeon, and I’m about to be put on the market like a piece of meat.
I look up at Maddox, my eyes wide as my heart thrums.
He smirks. “I realize this looks weird.” He turns to Chet. “Can you switch on the lights? It’s her first time.”
Chet nods slowly, reaching under his desk.
A few sconces along the sides of the staircase flicker on. I look down again. The walls of the staircase are lined with mirrors, allowing the limited light from the sconces to bounce all the way down the stairs.
I look down, swallowing. “How long is it?”
Maddox raises an eyebrow. “The staircase?”
I nod.
“It’s two or three stories total.” He shrugs. “Aces was built during the Prohibition era. The Montrose family—the people who own it—made a deal with the city to purchase this underground space that was originally dug up for an additional subway system. The city never used it, and the Montroses got a great deal on it. They turned it into a speakeasy—a secret bar where people could drink and gamble without fear that the cops would show up.”