The transition leading to the seductive ambiance of Club Nocté is momentarily disorienting, but the soft music now piped in through hidden speakers, and the lush foliage strategically placed along the path invite me to proceed.
Now I know why Alice did it …
This is like being invited into Wonderland.
The air is thick with anticipation by the time I reach the top landing. The soft murmur of conversation is punctuated by occasional laughter in the space beyond.
“May I take your coat?” the hostess asks, halting my progress.
I turn to her and smile. “Thank you, that would be lovely.”
Her bright blue eyes survey me and I shrug it off, feeling far more exposed.
“Your mask is beautiful,” she offers as she accepts my coat.
My fingertips trace the fabric and a smile floats to my lips. “ Thanks, I thought so.”
She tips her head before vanishing into the coat room behind her.
I take a moment to steel myself, letting my eyes adjust, as I take in my surroundings.
The club is even more lavish than I imagined—with rich, dark colors and plush velvet. The décor speaks of opulence and decadence, and a fresh thrill runs down my spine.
I’m at a?—
“May I offer you a drink?” a server asks, appearing at my side with a tray of champagne flutes.
I nod, accepting a glass. “That would be lovely,” I say, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my stomach.
With the glass in hand, I venture further into the club, paying far more attention than I should on walking straight and not spilling the champagne all over some unsuspecting guest.
A little bit of Carlie is still with me, it seems.
The alluring sound of violins playing through the speakers guides me to a large dining area and the crowd grows. The room is a tableau of intrigue—characters in a scene I might have written if I were back home and actually sticking to my deadline.
Laughter and chatter fill the air, every one a protagonist in their own story, hidden behind masks of mystery. Some share knowing glances, like old friends or old rivals—details I’d note as an author to hint at stories untold.
That thought makes my insides flutter again.
I take a sip of the champagne, the bubbles tickling my nose as I let the atmosphere wash over me.
I’m here to forget, to let go, and to embrace the new adventure that awaits.
And who knows? Maybe,just maybe,I’ll find something—or someone—that will make the night unforgettable.
With that thought in mind, I lift my chin, square my shoulders, and walk into the room.
“Miss Cummings?” another hostess inside asks when I enter the space.
“How’d—?” I ask, turning to her with my eyebrows drawn.
She smiles sweetly. “We’ve been given specific orders to know each of our guests so we can tailor the experience for you. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll bring you to your assigned seat.”
A hushed anticipation settles over the room as the lights dim, casting long, dancing shadows across the patterned walls. The flicker of candles becomes the heartbeat of the space, their warm glow softening the edges of masked faces and creating an intimate cocoon of secrecy and allure.
The transformation is swift but profound, and I feel the persona of Zoey enveloping me more fully, as if the dim light is a curtain, drawing closed and leaving Carlie firmly behind in the shadows.
The hostess, a vision of poise, really—guides me with a gentle hand on my elbow. She points to the an open seat at a small, intimate table and I slide into it.