I sit down and adjust Beppe in my hoodie, eyeing the pile of candy and juice-sized boxes of wine on the table.
“Let me guess. It was Chantel’s turn to bring snacks?”
“Is it that obvious?” She laughs.
“I’m not complaining.” I reach for a cotton candy lollipop and ply it from its wrapper before I shove it in my mouth.
We spend the next five minutes catching up, plowing through a variety of topics in rapid fire. This tends to happen when we get together, and everything spirals into chaos.
“Hey.” Chantel lowers her voice, alerting us that she has a juicy bit of gossip. “The Cat House is hosting a Halloween event this year called Davenport Manor After Dark. They’re marketing it as a night of erotic horror. Masked men. Primal play. All the good stuff.”
“Really?” I perk up. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”
“You know the place?” She quirks a brow at me.
I nod, giving her a brief rundown of its history. The Davenport Manor was once owned by a showman and his acrobat wife.
Victor and Maribel Davenport made their fortune in the 1920s when his designs for funhouses and spooky attractions became so popular, he franchised them.
With their newfound wealth, they settled in Seattle, building an eccentric mansion that recreated his designs throughout the estate's rooms. In the summer and fall, the couple would open it to the locals.
For a decade, the mansion hosted Gatsbyesque parties, adults-only performances, and soirees in their underground speakeasy. It was a booming party scene until one summer, the Davenports traveled to Chicago’s World Fair to present Victor’s latest invention. During that presentation, the moving platform he designed malfunctioned mid-performance, and Maribel fell to her death.
In the aftermath of the tragedy, Victor was so wracked with guilt, he shuttered the manor and left Seattle, never to be seen again. He was presumed to have ended his life, and the mansion sat abandoned before it was seized for unpaid taxes. It was later purchased by The Society, and it’s been used for private events ever since.
When we were teenagers, Romeo promised he’d take me there someday, even if he had to break in to do it. We both loved carnivals and haunted houses, and the secrecy of the manordrew us in. But it wasn’t just that. It was the idea of a love so enduring, all the wealth in the world couldn’t keep them apart. It felt like a Shakespearean tragedy.
“I don’t suppose you can get us in?” I ask Chantel.
Most of the girls laugh like I’m joking, but Abella shoots me a knowing look.
“I wish I could.” Chantel shrugs. “But it’s invite-only, and they have to be sent by a member of IVI. They gave invitations to all the dancers, but they’re non-transferable.”
“Are you going?” Abella asks her.
“Maybe on my own. Marco isn’t that adventurous. But I was thinking you might tell Angelo about it. I bet he’d totally go for it, and I know you love a good chase.”
Abella blushes, and I don’t have to guess she’s probably thinking about one of the many times her husband has railed her in a mask.
“Some women have all the luck.” I sigh.
“Please spare me the details of my brother’s alter ego,” Mariella groans.
The door swings open, and Serafina and Lucia walk in, offering us apologetic smiles. “Sorry we’re late.”
“All good,” Mariella tells them. “It’s perfect timing. Have a seat, and we’ll get started in just a minute.”
The girls each grab a chair and settle in as Mariella shoots off a quick text.
A minute later, the door opens again, and Angelo and Romeo join us.
My chest squeezes as I make eye contact with Romeo and nearly choke on my lollipop. He raises a brow, probably wishing that I would.
“What are they doing here?” Lucia asks.
“I asked them to come,” Mariella says, hesitating a moment before she continues. “As you all know, this last year has been a challenge with Angelo hindering?—”
“Being the voice of reason,” he interjects.
