“Keep your judgments to yourself,” the doorman snapped, “and wait right here.”
Ophelia said nothing, too busy taking in the scene before her. On the outside the club looked like an average upper class mansion where an average party would be thrown- but the inside was anything but. Tall mirrors lined the walls of the large, dimly lit room. In the far back was the largest white marble fireplace she’d ever seen, almost running the entire expanse of the wall. It’s massive fire, she quickly discovered, was the source of the orange-tinted light that cast off the mirrored walls and illuminated the bodies of the many guests.
Some of the men were dressed in well-tailored suits, while others were shirtless or wearing just a waistcoat. The women,though, all wore some of the most interesting and revealing dresses she’d ever seen. Plunging necklines. Short skirts. Backless dresses. They were all different, but they all had two things in common. Everyone was dressed in black finery- and everyone wore a mask.
“You look overwhelmed,” a deep voice rumbled in her ear.
Ophelia whirled, caught off guard by the masculine tone so close to her person, and the momentum sent her heavy case swinging into the well-dressed man she found.
A short grunt left the masked man’s lips as it caught his ribs, but instead of sneering, he caught her strap and removed it from her shoulder.
“S.R., I assume?” He asked.
Ophelia gave a silent nod, consumed and confused as to how immediately her body reacted to him. The man’s mask, like hers, covered his entire face save for his eyes and lips, but the similarities stopped there. Cheekbones, brows, and a mustache, had been artfully carved into the man’s black mask; giving it a realistic look. Dark hair was smoothed back his scalp, and every bit of clothing, from his cravat to his leather gloves, were fitted and black. It was strange. Chilling…and though she’d never admit it, alluring.
Underneath her mask, Ophelia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She’d been there barely two minutes and wasalready making a horrible impression. She bowed her head in a silent apology, and held out a hand for her case.
“You should be more careful,” he warned, holding the case out of reach so that she was forced to look back up at him away from her.
Underneath her mask, Ophelia’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. She’d been there barely two minutes and was already making a horrible impression. She bowed her head in a silent apology, and held out a hand for her case.
The man’s mask, like hers, covered his entire face save for his eyes and lips, but the similarities stopped there. Cheekbones, brows, and a mustache, had been artfully carved into the man’s black mask; giving it a realistic look. Dark hair was smoothed back his scalp, and every bit of clothing, from his cravat to his leather gloves, were fitted and black. It was strange. Chilling…and though she’d never admit it, alluring.
The man, she realized was studying her just as intently as she was him, and it made her blush even more. Wanting to end the moment, she snapped her fingers and pointed to her case. Through the two small holes in his mask Ophelia watched him narrow his blue eyes at her as he tilted his head. Then to her great surprise, he let out a deep chuckle.
“I was told you were mute,” he stated, handing her back her case. “If you work is as riveting as your silence, then we should be in good business.”
Ophelia gave a nod, wanting nothing more than to get started. As fascinating as everything was, she wanted to get this over with. The man went to one of the nearby mirrors, and to her surprise, he pulled it open, revealing a darkened passage dimly lit by candles.
“Come along, then, let’s have your test,” the man said, motioning for Ophelia to follow him.
“Test!” Ophelia exclaimed, coming to a halt as she stepped into the darkened hallway.
The word flew out of Ophelia’s mouth before she could help it and she blanched. She hadneverslipped like that with a client before!
The man instantly turned back to her, and even though he was wearing a mask, she could see his surprise.
“So youdospeak,” the man stated, giving Ophelia another look up and down as they stopped in the hall.
She shivered as he did so, feeling as if this man was able to see right through her disguise.
“An interesting thing to lie about,” the man mused, staring at her intently. “Yes. A test. If you could not tell already, I am the mastermind behind these soirees and every choice made regarding it has been done so by my careful hand. You will have to prove that you are worthy.”
“Worthy of what, precisely?” Her sarcastic tone and ill-mannered question poured out before she could stop herself, and she silently cursed at herself. Handsome or not, she did not do well with men. In fact her very nature seemed to be to question them.
Ophelia held her breath, waiting for the reprimand or even dismissal she was sure would come from such the arrogant ‘mastermind.’
Instead, he let out a low chuckle; the deep sound of such making delightful shivers shoot through her fingertips and into her chest.
“This is obviously not your world,” he said, tilting his head slightly as his voice dipped back into that annoyingly alluring tone of a man who held great power, “So I will forgive your crassness and reward you with an explanation. We are averyprivate club. My members seek a certain form of refuge here that they cannot find anywhere else. Their privacy, and mine, must be ensured. Papers have been scrambling to find us out for years. You could make a small fortune if you could see my face. People would pay so much just to know who this mystery man is.”
Ophelia began to panic, regretting her choice more by the second. She needed the money yes, but her gut was screaming at her to leave. Not once had she ever worried about being exposed for who she was, yet now, even with a mask, she was terrified of it. She could keep a secret. Better than most. Yet if this place was constantly being searched out by reporters, what would happen if she was found here?
Yet through her panic, Ophelia felt a rising excitement. Therewassomething thrilling about tiptoeing so close danger but not quite landing in it. Her excitement and curiosity won out, and she raised her chin and cleared her throat to give her voice a deeper tone.
“I-,” she choked out, then did her best to go a tone deeper. “ understand the importance of discretion more than you will ever realize,” she said with a confident air. “And as for my worthiness and talent? I paint far better than I speak.”
The man continued to study her with that same intensity for another long moment, filing the hall with a quiet, static tension. Then of all things, he chortled.
