The night awaits.
All that’s left is to step into the shadows and acquiesce to the adventure.
The night calls.
And your evening awaits.
Club Nocté
I have to admit, the magic and mystery of this invite have done its job well. The copywriter should be paid a hefty bonus, or something.
Nocté wove an alluring spell, captivating the author in me in a way that hasn’t been summoned out for a while. Props and golfers claps, for sure.
When the original notification of my ‘exclusive membership’ arrived months ago, a mix of emotions swirled within me. More mortification than thrill, to be honest.
To be selected for this secretive club as a consolation for being cheated on was not how I envisioned diving back into the world of dating.
If anything, it felt like a slap in the face.
How Nocté had learned of his indiscretion, I’ll never know.
Yet, as I sit here, on the brink of an unknown encounter, the allure of escape and the promise of a mysterious night that I’ll never forget is incredibly enticing.
It’s been long enough.
Zoey Cummings is ready, even if Carlie Taylor is not.
Tonight, I choose the adventure.
Tonight, I choose to beZoey.
Taking a deep breath, I open the car door, feeling the cool night air gently caress my skin. It’s a small, yet poignant, reminder that I’m about to step out of my comfort zone in a big way.
The sounds of the Superior at night surround me, a symphony of life that’s both daunting and exhilarating.
This city has a reputation for being seedy—or at the very least, the darker one of the Twin Ports. Something about that feels so good.Right.
I straighten my dress, a sleek emerald number that clings to my curves in all the right places—at least, I hope it does.
No, that’s a Carlie thought.
I banish it and button my long coat against the breeze.
Throwing my shoulders back, I adjust my mask—a delicate piece of dark green lace that hides just enough to make me feel mysterious. Zoey would wear this with pride and a mischievous glint in her eye.
My heels click against the pavement as I make my way toward the hidden back entrance of Club Nocté, the thumping bass from inside growing louder with each step.
My heart races, not just from the nerves but also from the sheer excitement of what might happen tonight.
As I approach the door, a blond, broad-shouldered bouncer checks my invite, his eyes lingering just a moment too long on the name written in elegant script.
“Enjoy your night, Zoey,” he says with a smirk, stepping aside to let me through.
“Thank you,” I respond, taking the invite back and slipping it into my purse.
I step past the dimly lit doorway and into a stairwell that leads to an upper level.
Quite literally,the Upper Tier.
