Chapter thirty
The throbbing bass pounds in my chest as I step into the club's smoky interior, the smell of expensive liquor and designer perfume hanging thick in the air. My heels click on the polished floor, and I feel dozens of eyes turn to appraise me.
Part of me immediately assumes the stares are because I look awkward, and I almost fall for it to stop and smooth my dress. But I remember just in time that I'm not here to be Aria, the self-conscious girl who doesn't think she's good enough. No, tonight I'm a stunning enigma. Someone who wants to be seen for all the right reasons.
I slide through the crowds, forcing myself to exude an air of aloof confidence despite the anxious hammering of my heart. These people reek of old money and privilege. I'm an imposter among pedigreed wolves. But what they think of me is not my business, and I have a job to do.
"Invitation?" the bouncer rumbles, massive arms crossed over his broad chest. I offer him the forged paper with a coy smile, channeling all my nerves into the deception. With Skyler's recent finds, it didn't take Aidan and Zeke long at all to create a replica invitation that would enable me to slip inside this event. His eyes linger on my curves poured into the slinky black dress before he nods, stepping aside.
I may have made it past the gatekeeper, but I'm far from safe. I weave between socialites and tycoons, their laughter too loud, their smiles too wide from champagne and pills. I catch snippets of conversation about yachts in St Lucia and skiing in Aspen. A glittering facade over a rottingcore.
I spot the door hidden behind velvet drapes, and the hulking guard watching the entrance. Showtime. I sashay over, lowering my voice to a sultry purr.
"I heard this is where the real party is," I say, trailing a suggestive nail down his chest. He smirks, leaning in close. The game is on.
His hot breath caresses my ear as he whispers, "What's the password, sweetheart?"
I suppress a shudder, forcing myself to meet his leering gaze. "Frangipani clusterfuck," I reply, resisting the urge to giggle and infusing the words with as much sinful promise as I can muster.
He notices my lip twitch at the corner, and for a moment I think I'm toast. But then he steps back and pulls the curtain aside, revealing the spiral staircase descending into darkness. "Enjoy," he says with a wink. "Glad you like the password. I made it up myself."
I take a deep breath and make my way down, one precarious step after another. The temperature drops and flickering candlelight casts twisting shadows on the stone walls. It feels like I'm descending into the bowels of some gothic castle, not an exclusive club.
I'm really not sure what to expect. All I know is this is where I'm meant to be, if we want to get the real tea on Tane.
At the bottom, I'm greeted by a scene from my darkest nightmares. Grotesque taxidermy and strange occult artifacts line the room. In the center, a group of elites are gathered around a table, money and white powder changing hands as they engage in depraved games.
It's then that I spy the pool table. I was expecting something dark based on Angel and Devon's recounting of Tane's weird torture display in his vacation mansion, but not even hearing about bodies in display cases could have quite prepared me for this.
I didn't notice it at first because several men are partaking in a game, pool cues in hand. It's the pool balls that intrigue and horrify me. Each of them, transparent, made out of some type of thick material. Encasing what are clearly human body parts. Inside several, I notice vertebrae. Another seems to house a human heart.
My stomach roils as one of the men sends the white pool ball thwacking into what can only be a pair of human eyeballs housed within yet another translucent pool ball. The other men laugh heartily as they watch the eyeballs go around and around before the ball finally plunks into a corner pocket. The perverse joys of the super wealthy never cease to freak me out, and I shudder, not so much at the eyeballs as at them. The ones enjoying this.
A familiar ding-ding-ding noise starts up in the corner. Pinball. I glance over, and to my shock—although I really need to start expecting things like this—several people are gathered around what appears to be a vintage game. But, instead of the little metal balls I'm accustomed to, the group appears to be playing with shriveled human testicles. The flapper things at the bottom of the game resemble human fingers. Jesus.
I get the part where Tane is an evil mob boss who takes pleasure from hurting people to get his way. And I get the part where he's focused on money and power. But to have custom-made games out of body parts suggests Tane's enjoyment from his activities goes way farther than simply 'being insanely rich'.
My eyes dart around the room. There's more. There's always more, when it comes to people like Tane. The hides on the wall, human. One I even recognize in jacket form. Wow, the guys thought they were sending a dark message to Tane when they sent him Denzo's tattooed skin in leather jacket form, but Tane just added it to his collection. There it is, framed and displayed in all its glory.
I try my best not to puke as I notice little details in the furniture. Leather upholstery accented with what can only be human teeth. Lamps with spines as the stands that hold up the lightbulbs. Jesus. The other girls weren't lying when they said Tane is a depraved lunatic, and that I should be prepared for anything, coming here.
Focus, Aria, I scold myself. I'm not here to inventory and judge Tane's interior design choices, as distracting as they may be.
I discreetly take in the appearances of everyone in the room. Most, but not all of them, men. Some familiar, known for running prominent businesses on the island. Ensnared in Tane's debauched business interests, no doubt. I mentallycatalog each of them, eager to take these details back to the team. Each identified individual a potential weak spot in Tane's formidable armor.
It's hard for my eyes to stop trailing away from the boring businessmen trying to big-note themselves, and focus on this room of horrors.
But before I can take in any more of the atrocities before me, a petite blonde in a lacy black dress notices me staring, her heavily lined eyes narrowing. "Who the hell are you?" Her question draws the attention of the others. "And why are you staring at everything? This is meant to be discreet, exclusive. Are you some kind of influencer? Are you going to put this on a live stream? Mind your business."
I force myself to exude uncaring boredom, despite the horror of the things I've just observed. "I'm looking for a real party. This looks a bit...tame." Their expressions range from annoyance to intrigue. Time to make an exit before my luck runs out.
I turn and saunter back up the stairs, my pulse racing. I think I got what I came for, but I can still feel their eyes crawling over me. I did what I came here to do, my virgin surveillance mission of this type. Now to get this intel back to the team.
I emerge back into the main club, the pulsating music and chatter washing over me. For a moment, I'm disoriented by the normalcy of it all compared to the depravity downstairs. Anyone would think it was a typical nightspot where tourists can blow off some steam. I take a steadying breath.
Blending in with the crowd once more, and keeping my head down, I swiftly traverse the dance floor, avoiding being groped by drunken men whose hooded eyes attempt to devour my body. The thumping music and press of bodies conceal me as I weave toward the exit. Eventually, I make it through to the other side. The sense of relief is overwhelming. I made it out, but the images of that basement will haunt me for as long as I have a memory. Almost there. Just a few more steps and I'll be free.
Right as I get to the door, a large hand clamps down on my shoulder, rooting me in place. My heart leaps into my throat as I turn.