“Completely. I didn’t expect it to feel this way. What are we going to do about the club?”
“Do we tell people she’s gone, or do we continue to manage?”
“We need to talk with the guys when we get home. It’s a big decision.”
“What about tonight?”
“We still have several hours to figure it out.”
We push the door open and walk in. The lights are on and there’s a clinking of glasses up ahead in the main room.
Harlow is behind the bar cleaning glasses and getting the bar area ready.
“Hey!” she calls at us. “What are you two doing here?”
“Just checking on a few things.”
“Have you all seen Samara? I need to ask a question about tonight.”
“Can we help?”
“Sure. I always expect to see her here, but you can help too. Madame Dubois is coming in tonight for another demo, but wanted to change the content up a little.”
“Sure. Whatever she wants to do is fine.”
“Really?”
“Yea. Can you handle telling her when she comes in tonight?”
“Sure. But aren’t you all going to be here?”
“We have to take care of some things, so we won’t be here, but if you need anything, please call.”
“And Samara?”
“She had to take a trip. It was unplanned, but we will find out when she gets back.”
It's hard to ignore the brief look of excitement on her face when she hears that Samara’s gone. She was like a dark cloud that hung over everything. Suppressing fae and their happiness.
“Ok, well, we need to go check on something in the office. If you need anything, let us know.”
She nods and smiles.
When we get into Samara’s office, we look around the pristine room. A red velvet couch sits against the right wall with a variety of colored gold and indigo pillows. Against the back wall is a large bookshelf with a few books, and other gold statues and hourglasses, with a large ornamental desk sitting just in front of it. A crystal chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, casting shimmers on the floor and walls and looks like it was ripped out of a palace somewhere. The design of this room is odd. Eclectic.
“It’s weird being in here. I can’t help but feel she’s going to just pop up any second and torture us.”
“Hopefully, if that’s the case, then Helsgard would send word,” Emmett says thoughtfully.
“Yea.” I flip through the papers on Samara’s desk, looking at contracts and supplies. “You know… I kind of wouldn’t mind becoming the owner of this place. I love how it allows people to explore their kinks in a safe environment.”
“You just like getting picked for shows, you kinky fucker.”
“Maybe that too,” I laugh.
“I don’t see anything,” Emmett says, pulling out the last drawer of her desk. “Throughout the years, we have scoured and mapped out every room in this building, but there’s one space that’s a mystery.”
“Go on.”
