No Names After Midnight

Chapter 5 - Behind The Mask

"I'm not going."

"Yes, you are," Crystal replies immediately.

"No, Crystal. I'm really not."

"Yes. You really are."

I stare at my phone as though glaring at her name on the screen might somehow make her surrender.

It doesn't.

Instead, I hear Sophie laughing somewhere in the background.

Traitor.

"I've worked all week," I complain, sinking deeper into the sofa. "I got dragged into work last Saturday on my day off, I've survived approximately four hundred emails, three meetings I barely understood, and enough coffee to probably stop my heart. I want to stay home."

"That," Crystal says dramatically, "is exactly why you need to come out."

"I need sleep."

"You're twenty-one, Alice. You don't need sleep. You need alcohol."

Sophie's voice comes through the phone. "Please don't listen to her medical advice."

"Thank you, Sophie."

There's a brief pause.

"But you should come out," Sophie adds.

I sit upright.

"You too?"

"Unfortunately, I agree with her this time."

Crystal gasps loudly. "Baby, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"Oh, shut up," Sophie mutters.

I smile despite myself.

Those two are ridiculous.

They've been together for almost two years now, and somehow Crystal still flirts with Sophie like she's trying to convince her to go on a first date.

It would be disgusting if it wasn't slightly adorable.

"Fine," I sigh.

Crystal screams.

Actually screams.

I pull the phone away from my ear.

"Oh my God, calm down!"

"Be ready in an hour."

"An hour?"

"Yes."

"Crystal—"

The call ends.

I stare at my screen.

Of course.

I throw my phone onto the sofa.

"One peaceful weekend," I mutter. "That's all I ask."

Apparently, that's too much.

⸻

An hour and twenty minutes later, I'm standing in front of my mirror wondering why I let Crystal control any aspect of my life.

Her only instruction was to wear black.

Nothing else.

Just black.

Very helpful.

I eventually settle on a fitted black dress that reaches halfway down my thighs. It has thin straps, a low back, and just enough cleavage to make me question whether I'm going to regret wearing it.

Probably.

I leave my blonde hair down for once, letting it fall in loose waves over my shoulders.

For a moment, I simply stare at myself.

It's strange.

At work, my hair is always tied up. My clothes are professional. My makeup is simple.

Tonight, I barely recognise myself.

Maybe that's a good thing.

My phone buzzes.

CRYSTAL: WE'RE OUTSIDE. MOVE YOUR ASS.

There she is.

I grab my bag and head downstairs.

⸻

The second I climb into the back of Sophie's car, Crystal spins around in the passenger seat.

Her eyes widen.

"Oh."

I pause halfway through fastening my seat belt.

"What?"

Crystal slowly looks me up and down.

"Alex Underwood is going to regret giving you Saturdays off."

I glare at her. "Can we not talk about my boss?"

Sophie laughs from behind the steering wheel.

"Crystal, leave her alone."

"I haven't even started."

"That's the problem," Sophie replies.

Crystal turns back around.

She's wearing a red dress that somehow manages to look classy and completely inappropriate at the same time.

Very Crystal.

Sophie, meanwhile, is wearing black trousers and a fitted satin top, looking considerably more sensible.

I narrow my eyes at them both.

"Where exactly are we going?"

Crystal smiles.

Immediately, I'm suspicious.

"Out," she says.

"That isn't an answer."

"It is technically an answer."

"Crystal."

She glances towards Sophie.

Sophie suddenly becomes very interested in the road.

Oh no.

"What have you two done?"

"Nothing," Crystal says innocently.

"Crystal."

She twists around again and gives me her sweetest smile.

"You trust me, right?"

"No."

"Rude."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

I already regret this.

⸻

Twenty minutes later, Sophie turns onto a street I recognise.

My stomach twists.

No.

Surely not.

I lean forward between the two front seats.

"Where are we?"

Crystal doesn't answer.

The car slows.

Then I see it.

A black building tucked between two much more ordinary-looking businesses.

There's no flashing sign.

No queue stretching around the block.

Just a small gold plaque beside the entrance.

LORIES

My entire body goes still.

"You have got to be f*****g kidding me."

Crystal turns around with a grin.

"Surprise?"

"Crystal!"

"What?"

"This is Lories Dungeons."

"Yes."

"I know what this place is!"

Her eyebrows shoot up.

"Oh?"

Sophie looks at me through the rear-view mirror.

"How?"

Shit.

I sit back.

"My job."

Crystal's smile grows wider.

"What about your job?"

"Star Industries has... dealings with them."

That sounds terrible.

Crystal stares at me.

"Dealings?"

"Business dealings."

"Are you sure?" she asks.

"Yes!"

Sophie starts laughing.

I glare at both of them.

"This isn't funny."

Crystal opens her door. "It's a little funny."

"No. It isn't."

It absolutely is.

But I'm not telling her that.

My mind immediately returns to my first day.

The usual.

Eight p.m.

Alex looking almost embarrassed when he realised I'd arranged the meeting.

My eyes flick towards the entrance.

What are the chances he's here tonight?

New York is enormous.

It's Saturday night.

He could be anywhere.

Still...

"I'm not going in," I say.

Crystal steps out of the car.

"Yes, you are."

"Why do you always say that?"

She leans down towards the open door. "Because you always eventually do what I say."

She has a point.

Which annoys me even more.

Sophie turns slightly in her seat and reaches back for my hand.

"We don't have to stay," she says gently. "If you're uncomfortable, we leave. No questions."

That makes me relax a little.

Crystal leans back into the car.

"And before you panic, it isn't some terrifying dungeon where people jump you the second you walk through the door."

"Wonderful."

"There are rules. Lots of them."

"Still not helping."

Crystal grins. "Come on, Alice. Live a little."

I glance towards the building again.

Live a little.

Something about those words hits harder than it should.

Lately, I feel like all I do is survive.

Work.

Bills.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Maybe Crystal is right.

God, I hate when that happens.

"Fine," I say.

Crystal beams.

"But if I see something that permanently damages me, I'm sending you the therapy bill."

"Deal."

⸻

The entrance is nothing like I expected.

Two security guards stand at the door, both dressed entirely in black.

Crystal gives one of them her name.

He checks a tablet.

"Miss Hayes. Welcome back."

I slowly turn towards her.

"Welcome back?"

Crystal ignores me.

Interesting.

We're led through a small entrance hall where another woman checks our IDs.

Then she hands each of us a sleek black pouch.

"Phones must remain inside these while you're in the main club," she explains. "They'll lock automatically once you pass the second entrance."

I look at Crystal.

"You failed to mention that."

"You would've complained."

"I'm complaining now."

"Exactly."

The woman continues as though we aren't bickering beside her.

"Masks must remain on in all common areas. No photography. No recording. No touching another guest without clear consent. Private areas have their own rules, which will be explained before entry."

She hands each of us a mask.

Mine is simple and black, covering the area around my eyes and upper cheeks.

Crystal's is red.

Of course it is.

Sophie receives a silver one.

"Guests may use aliases if they wish," the woman adds. "Personal information should only be exchanged if both parties are comfortable."

I swallow.

Maybe this place is more serious than I thought.

The second set of doors opens.

Music pours through.

And suddenly, I understand why people come here.

The place is stunning.

Nothing about it feels cheap or sleazy.

Warm gold lighting glows against black walls. A huge bar stretches along one side of the room, while an open dance floor fills the centre. Velvet seating areas are hidden in darker corners, giving people privacy without completely separating them from the rest of the club.

Everyone is wearing masks.

Men in expensive suits.

Women in dresses.

Couples.

Groups.

Some people are dressed far more daringly than others.

But nobody looks uncomfortable.

Nobody is staring.

Nobody seems particularly interested in who anyone actually is.

That might be the strangest part.

In here, nobody cares.

Crystal takes my hand.

"Drink?"

"Yes."

Definitely drink.

⸻

Two cocktails later, I'm beginning to understand the appeal.

Not necessarily the dungeon part.

I haven't gone anywhere near the private floors, and I have absolutely no intention of doing so.

But the anonymity?

That I understand.

Nobody here knows I'm Alice Richmond.

Nobody knows I wait tables.

Nobody knows I'm struggling to pay my rent.

Nobody knows I'm the inexperienced assistant who spent her entire first week terrified she'd make a mistake and get fired.

Here, I could be anyone.

Crystal wraps an arm around Sophie's neck and kisses her.

I roll my eyes.

"Please remember I'm standing right here."

Crystal pulls away and grins.

"You're jealous."

"Of what?"

"Our love."

"I'm jealous that Sophie gets to shut you up by kissing you."

Sophie laughs.

"Trust me. It's useful."

Crystal looks deeply offended.

I laugh harder than I have in weeks.

And for a while, I forget everything.

We drink.

We dance.

Crystal somehow convinces Sophie to join her in the middle of the dance floor, and I watch them together.

They look happy.

Genuinely happy.

A strange ache forms in my chest.

Not because I'm jealous of them.

Because watching them makes me realise how little of my own life I've actually enjoyed lately.

Work.

Money.

Fear.

Survival.

That has been my entire existence.

My smile fades.

I should've done more with my life.

The thought appears so easily that I hate it.

I'm only twenty-one.

Why do I constantly feel like I'm running out of time?

I finish the rest of my drink.

No.

Not tonight.

Tonight, I'm not thinking about my future.

Or my past.

Or Alex Underwood.

Especially Alex Underwood.

"I'm getting another drink!" I shout towards Crystal and Sophie.

Crystal barely hears me over the music.

She gives me a thumbs-up before pulling Sophie closer.

I head towards the bar.

⸻

"Another one?"

The bartender gestures towards my empty glass.

I consider it.

"Something weaker this time."

He laughs.

"Smart."

While he makes my drink, I lean against the bar and look around.

Everyone is still just a mystery.

Eyes behind masks.

Bodies without names.

Maybe that's why my attention lands on one particular man standing several feet away.

Tall.

Very tall.

Black suit.

Black shirt.

No tie.

His mask is simple, covering enough of his face that I can't properly make out his features.

But there's something about him.

The way he stands.

Controlled.

Like the entire room could descend into chaos and he'd remain completely unaffected.

His eyes meet mine.

I quickly look away.

Smooth, Alice. Very smooth.

The bartender slides my drink towards me.

"Thanks."

I take a sip.

"Careful."

A deep voice speaks beside me.

I freeze.

Why does that voice sound familiar?

I turn.

The masked man is now standing next to me.

Up close, he's even taller.

And annoyingly attractive.

His eyes look dark in the low lighting.

"What am I being careful of?" I ask.

He nods towards my drink.

"That."

I glance down.

"It's practically juice."

"That's usually how they get you."

I raise an eyebrow.

"Are you always this helpful with strangers?"

His mouth curves slightly.

"Only the ones who look like they need it."

"I don't look like I need help."

"No?"

"No."

He studies me for a moment.

I suddenly become very aware that I'm wearing considerably less clothing than I do during my normal life.

His gaze never drops below my face.

I appreciate that.

"First time here?" he asks.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Very."

I narrow my eyes.

"Rude."

His mouth curves beneath the mask.

"Observant."

"What gave me away?"

"You've looked towards the exit about twelve times."

I stare at him.

"You counted?"

"Maybe."

"Creepy."

"Observant," he corrects.

"Same thing, depending on who you ask."

His smile grows.

I like his smile.

Or what I can see of it.

Which is ridiculous considering I don't even know what his face looks like.

"What should I call you?" he asks.

I hesitate.

Real names aren't required here.

Something about giving him mine feels strangely intimate.

"Grace."

My middle name slips out naturally.

He nods once.

"Grace."

The way he says it makes my stomach flutter.

Jesus.

I need water.

"And you?" I ask.

He takes a sip from the glass in his hand.

"No names."

I stare at him.

"That hardly seems fair."

"You gave yours voluntarily."

"It might not even be real."

His eyebrow lifts behind the mask.

"Is it?"

I smile.

"Maybe."

He steps slightly closer.

Not enough to invade my space.

Just enough that I notice.

"Then maybe mine is Alex."

My heart jolts.

No.

That would be ridiculous.

There are probably thousands of Alexes in New York.

And my boss definitely isn't standing in front of me at a masked kink club introducing himself as Alex.

I laugh awkwardly.

He tilts his head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You looked terrified for a second."

"I know an Alex."

"Bad experience?"

I think about the Saturday coffee incident.

"The jury's still out."

He laughs.

Again, something about that laugh feels familiar.

Maybe I'm imagining it.

"So," he says, turning slightly towards me, "what does this Alex do?"

I stare at him.

"Why?"

"Curious."

"He's my boss."

Something flickers in his eyes.

"Your boss?"

"Yes."

"Do you like him?"

I almost choke on my drink.

"What kind of question is that?"

"A simple one."

"No."

That comes out far too quickly.

His mouth twitches.

"No?"

"He's arrogant."

"Maybe he has reason to be."

"He made me come into work on a Saturday to buy him coffee."

The man goes completely silent.

I point at him.

"Exactly."

"That does sound unreasonable."

"Thank you."

"Perhaps he was testing you."

I narrow my eyes.

"Whose side are you on?"

His shoulders move slightly with quiet laughter.

"I'm simply considering both perspectives."

"Well, don't."

"Yes, ma'am."

I stare at him.

There's something about talking to him that feels strangely easy.

Maybe because I'll probably never see him again.

Maybe because neither of us really knows who the other is.

There's freedom in that.

"So what do you do?" I ask.

"Business."

I roll my eyes.

"That really narrows it down."

"I own a company."

Of course he does.

Everyone in this part of New York apparently owns a company.

"Successful?"

He considers the question.

"Yes."

"Modest too."

"I answered honestly."

"Fair enough."

He looks at me for a moment.

"And you?"

"Currently?" I lift my glass slightly. "Professional coffee fetcher."

He laughs.

"But eventually?"

The question catches me off guard.

I stare down at my drink.

"I want my own business."

"What kind?"

"I don't know yet."

He waits.

I shrug.

"That sounds stupid."

"Why?"

"Because everyone says they want to own a business. I don't even know what mine would be."

"You don't need to know yet."

I look up at him.

"Easy for someone who already owns one to say."

His expression shifts.

"Maybe."

I swirl the ice around my glass.

"I just feel like..." I stop.

Why am I telling him this?

Because he's a stranger.

That's probably exactly why.

"I should've done more with my life."

His eyebrows pull together.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

He laughs.

Actually laughs.

I glare at him.

"Glad my existential crisis is entertaining."

"You're twenty-one, Grace."

"So?"

"So you're talking like you've reached the end of your life."

"It feels like everyone else is ahead."

"Everyone feels behind someone."

That shuts me up.

His voice is quieter when he continues.

"Success doesn't necessarily mean you're living."

I study him.

Something about the way he says it feels too personal.

"You don't sound very happy for someone successful."

For the first time since he approached me, he looks away.

"That's complicated."

"So is my boss."

He looks back at me.

"Everything comes back to him, doesn't it?"

Heat creeps into my cheeks.

"It does not."

"You've mentioned him several times."

"Because you asked!"

His smile returns.

"Of course."

I hate him.

Not him.

The other him.

Maybe both.

A slower song begins playing.

He glances towards the dance floor before looking back at me.

"Dance with me."

I blink.

"That wasn't a question."

His eyebrow lifts.

"Would you like to dance with me?"

"Better."

He holds out his hand.

I stare at it.

This is insane.

I don't know him.

I don't know what he looks like.

I don't even know whether Alex is really his name.

But maybe that's the point.

Tonight isn't supposed to make sense.

I place my hand in his.

"Fine."

His fingers close gently around mine.

⸻

On the dance floor, he keeps enough distance between us that I immediately relax.

His hand hovers near my waist.

"May I?"

The question surprises me.

I nod.

"Yes."

His hand settles against me.

Warm.

Firm.

My body reacts instantly.

Great.

His other hand holds mine as we move slowly with the music.

I'm suddenly far too aware of everything.

His height.

His chest.

His hand against my waist.

The faint smell of his cologne.

Wait.

I know that smell.

I look up at him.

He notices immediately.

"What?"

"Your cologne."

His eyes narrow slightly.

"What about it?"

"It smells familiar."

He goes still.

Only for a second.

Then he shrugs.

"Popular brand."

Probably.

Still...

I stare at his eyes.

There's something familiar about those too.

No.

Stop.

I've had alcohol.

My brain is being ridiculous.

"You're staring," he says.

"So are you."

"Maybe I like what I see."

My breath catches.

Oh.

Okay.

I recover quickly.

"Hard to tell when half my face is covered."

"I've seen enough."

My cheeks burn.

"Do lines like that normally work?"

"I don't normally use them."

"Sure."

"I'm serious."

Something in his voice makes me believe him.

For a few seconds, neither of us speaks.

The room seems to disappear.

His thumb moves slightly against my waist.

My heartbeat speeds up.

He leans closer.

Not enough to kiss me.

Just enough that his voice reaches my ear.

"You're trouble, Grace."

I laugh softly.

"You don't even know me."

His eyes hold mine.

"I think I'd like to."

Something in my chest flips.

Before I can answer—

"Alice!"

I freeze.

Oh no.

Crystal.

I turn sharply.

She's pushing through the crowd towards us with Sophie following behind.

The man's hand leaves my waist.

Crystal stops beside me.

Her eyes immediately move from me to the masked stranger.

Then back to me.

Even with half her face covered, I can see the excitement in her expression.

Absolutely not.

Sophie reaches us a second later.

"We're heading out," she says.

I blink.

"Already?"

"It's nearly two."

My eyes widen.

"Two?"

Crystal's eyes flick shamelessly between me and the stranger.

"Unless you want to stay?"

"No."

My answer comes far too quickly.

"I'm coming."

I turn back towards him.

For some reason, I suddenly don't want to leave.

Which is stupid.

We've spoken for what?

Half an hour?

Maybe an hour?

I don't even know his real name.

"It was nice meeting you," I say.

"Likewise, Grace."

There it is again.

The way he says my name.

I step backwards.

"Maybe I'll see you around."

"Maybe."

Something tells me he knows that's unlikely.

Crystal takes my hand.

We begin walking away.

I glance back once.

He's still watching me.

Then the crowd moves between us.

And he disappears.

⸻

The cold night air hits me the second we step outside.

Crystal practically explodes.

"Who. Was. That?"

"I don't know."

She stares at me.

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I mean exactly that. I don't know."

"You were practically attached to him!"

"We danced."

Sophie smiles beside us.

"You looked like you were enjoying yourself."

"I was."

Crystal gasps dramatically.

"Our Alice!"

"Oh, shut up."

She links her arm through mine.

"Did you get his number?"

"No phones, remember?"

"Name?"

"Maybe Alex."

The second I say it, I regret it.

Crystal stops walking.

"Alex?"

"Yes."

Sophie raises her eyebrows.

"Like Alex Underwood?"

"No."

Crystal stares at me.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"How?"

"Because that would be insane."

Crystal shrugs.

"You literally know he comes here."

My stomach drops.

She has a point.

"No."

I shake my head.

"No way."

Sophie looks thoughtful.

"Did he seem familiar?"

His voice.

His laugh.

The cologne.

My stomach twists.

No.

Absolutely not.

"It wasn't him."

Crystal grins.

"You sound very sure for someone who has no idea what the man looked like."

I glare at her.

"Get in the car."

She laughs the entire way across the parking lot.

I climb into the back seat and stare through the window at Lories Dungeons.

The masked stranger appears in my thoughts again.

His hand on my waist.

His voice in my ear.

You're trouble, Grace.

I shake my head.

It doesn't matter who he was.

Tonight was just tonight.

Monday, I go back to reality.

Back to Star Industries.

Back to meetings.

Back to schedules.

Back to Alex Underwood.

And somehow, I have the strangest feeling that Monday is going to be complicated.