Zara’s POV
I knew exactly what kind of club this was. I'd written places like it into my stories more times than I could count — smoky, candlelit rooms full of people who knew exactly what they wanted, scenes I'd imagined down to the smallest detail and never once seen with my own eyes. I'd built every single one of them out of research and guesswork and my own imagination working overtime.
And now here was a real one.
Three clicks away. An event happening tomorrow. Close enough to touch.
I should have closed the tab.
I knew I should close the tab. I told myself to close the tab.
I clicked the registration button instead.
A form opened up. Long. More of a questionnaire, really — page after page of questions, all of them clearly designed to screen people before they let them anywher
