The Velvet Room Conspiracy: Chapter Four
Crossing the Threshold
What happens when you catch the wrong person’s attention? In Chapter 4, Charlie enters The Velvet Room, but the moment she locks eyes with Wesley Remington, everything changes. One misstep, and the truth she’s hiding could cost her everything.
Keep reading to find out what happens next.
Charlie
The Velvet Room stands ahead, tucked away on a quiet Manhattan side street. Unmarked and private, you’d overlook it unless you knew it was there. Only those who belong here even know it exists.
I flip open my journal one last time, scanning the coded entries. Each name is hidden under the guise of a romance novel. I am the peasant, playing a role far beneath anyone’s notice. Wesley is the King, his power whispered about in exclusive circles. And tonight, I’ll finally see him up close. But this isn’t about him. It’s about finding Bianca and uncovering what she was chasing before she disappeared.
When I enter the Velvet Room I’m pulled into opulence and luxury. Chandeliers adorned with hundreds of precisely cut crystals cast golden light over the polished marble floor, which gleams like a still pool. The air is thick with the scent of old wood, cigars, and jasmine—enticing yet overwhelming. This place feels like it belongs to another era, like a speakeasy hiding something much darker behind its charm.
I pause, letting my shoulders relax and a small smile play on my lips, even as unease twists in my chest. The murmur of conversations weaves through the space, punctuated by the occasional clink of glasses and bursts of low laughter from the corner.
A woman approaches, her sharp eyes sweeping over me. Her smile doesn’t quite reach her lips as she hands me a small key.
“Keep it safe,” she says.
Her gaze lingers, knowing, as if this exchange has played out a hundred times before. I don’t ask questions. The cool metal feels heavier than it should in my palm. I already know it will matter when it’s almost too late.
She gestures for me to follow her into a booth filled with velvet seating. I see patrons recline in silks and tailored suits, their postures relaxed yet guarded. Every face seems to carry a secret. Do they know what happens here? Or are they pretending too?
And then I see him.
Wesley.
Wesley stands tall, his golden blond hair glows in the low light, styled short. His tailored suit fits him like a second skin. The fine fabric accentuates his broad shoulders. His sharp jaw, with a touch of stubble, adds ruggedness to his otherwise polished demeanor. Even from across the room, his presence commands attention. A glass of whiskey rests in his hand, the amber liquid catching the light as if it, too, is part of his orbit. The rest of the room fades into the background, as if a spotlight is reserved for him alone.
How did Bianca get mixed up with him? The question makes my chest tighten. No matter how much I prepared, it’s not enough. He’s larger than life, more intense than any picture or report could convey.
When he turns, his piercing blue eyes lock onto mine. I force a smile, but it wavers as my fingers tighten around the strap of my purse. His gaze lingers, sharp yet curious, with an intensity that makes it hard to breathe. It feels personal, like he’s seeing someone familiar. Does he know who I am?
The woman gestures for me to sit, but I barely notice. My instincts scream at me to retreat, but I can’t. His gaze doesn’t waver, and the rest of the room fades into the background. This is it, then. The lion’s den. With my pulse racing, I take a seat in the booth, struggling to steady myself. Get it together, Charlie.
Suddenly Wesley starts walking towards me and everyone in the room watches him. But he doesn’t acknowledge them, his focus is fixed entirely on me. Why me? What does he see? I fight the urge to look away, but I can’t break eye contact.
“May I join you?” he asks. His deep voice sends shivers down my spine as he leans in.
I nod, my fingers curling around the edge of the table, refusing to break. “I’d be delighted.”
He reaches out, his fingers closing around mine in a firm but gentle grasp. He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the back of it. My gaze shifts to his right hand, where a dark ring sparkles under the low light. There’s a moon crest carved into the metal, its sharp edges. It’s not just jewelry, it’s a warning.
“I’m Wes, though something tells me you already know that,” he says as he releases my hand.
I let a smile mask the effect of his touch, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor lingering in my fingers.
“I’ve heard the name before,” I say, tilting my head to project confidence. “I’m Charlotte.”
“Charlotte,” he repeats, savoring the sound.
His eyes linger on my neckline before meeting mine, sending another shiver down my spine. I fight the urge to adjust my dress, to draw his attention back to my face, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“A martini, perhaps? I’d like to see if your taste matches your reputation.” My reputation? Does he think I’m someone else?
Jules’ voice rings in my head. Say no to everything. But it’s impossible to say no, unless I want to look suspicious.
“Yes, a martini sounds perfect,” I reply, my voice steadier than I feel.
He signals to the bartender with a flick of his wrist, turning his attention back to me. He doesn’t even glance in his direction but the bartender moves without hesitation, as if trained to respond to his smallest gesture.
Up close, he’s even more striking, but there’s an edge beneath the polished charm. His smile pulls me in, even as my instincts scream to resist it. What does he want? I need answers, but I have to tread carefully.
“Places like this always hold stories, don’t they? That’s part of their allure,” I say, trying to sound casual.
He tilts his head, a faint smile softening his sharp features before vanishing.
“And what kind of story are you looking to be a part of?” he asks.
“That depends on who’s telling it,” I reply.
He chuckles, a low sound that vibrates between us. His eyes flick to my collarbone. His stare makes my skin tingle.
“Curiosity can be dangerous, and you know what they say—curiosity killed the cat. So I hope you know what you’re getting into.”
Jules was right. I went against her warnings and now I’m in the danger zone. What am I supposed to say to that?
“Relax, Charlotte,” Wesley says, a trace of humor dancing in his eyes. “It’s like you’ve seen a ghost. I’m only teasing.”
I let out a forced laugh. “Good one.”
I take another sip of my martini, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through my cheeks.
“So,” he leans in, his voice low enough only for me to hear. “I hear you’re looking for a job?”
A job? He thinks I’m someone else. Or maybe it’s a test. Either way, I should go with it. But what kind of job would he want me to do here?
“I am, but not as a bartender. A hostess position would be a better fit for me.”
Wesley’s expression shifts as he leans back, his gaze drifting down my body long enough to make my pulse spike. His lips curve slightly, as if he’s amused by something I’m unaware of.
“You’d make an excellent concierge,” he says, his voice dropping low. “You do know this is more than a lounge, don’t you?”
I should have known that. Why didn’t I dig deeper? Why did I only skim the surface of Bianca’s cryptic notes? I force myself to maintain a casual expression, taking another sip of my drink to hide the unease bubbling inside me.
“I’m starting to get that impression. But I doubt this is a place for just any concierge.”
“Very perceptive. We don’t deal with ‘just any’ here. But I’ll make an exception for you Charlotte.”
His gaze meets mine, making my pulse quicken, but my expression stays resolute.
He nods toward the key in my lap but something about the crest on it gnaws at me. Where have I seen it before? Then it clicks—Bianca’s notebook. I’d seen this exact design, sketched in the margins, unfinished and surrounded by words I didn’t understand at the time: key, danger, don’t forget. Now, under Wesley’s gaze, those scribbles feel less like notes and more like a warning.
“You know Charlotte, a key like that can open more than doors. But you already know that, don’t you?”
I don’t flinch. Instead, I force a calm and steady smile. “I suppose that depends on the doors.”
He chuckles, as if my response amuses him more than it should.
When he stands, the attention in the room shifts toward us, like the tide turning.
“I’ll show you around,” he says, extending a hand. “Let’s see if you’re as fearless as you pretend to be.”
For a moment, the charm fades, and I catch a glimpse of something darker lurking beneath.
I look down at the key as it rests in my lap, cool and solid, its weight unmistakable. Had Bianca sat here, holding this same key, thinking she had everything under control? What was she hoping to find here? And what did it cost her? The thought twists in my gut. If I’m not careful, I might end up chasing the same shadows and meeting the same end.
Wesley’s hand remains outstretched, waiting. I place my hand over the key, then slide it into his. His fingers close around mine, taking the key as he draws me to my feet. The exchange is wordless, his grip steady as he guides me up. My pulse stumbles, but I keep my expression calm.
No going back now.
I try to match his walking pace, feeling the eyes of the room on us as he leads me deeper into The Velvet Room. The sound of conversations fades behind me, replaced by a quieter, more guarded atmosphere. This part of the lounge feels more intimate, the air thick with secrets.
My eyes catch a faint glint in the polished surfaces around us. A camera, small and unobtrusive, is tucked into the molding of the ceiling. I see another camera at the edge of a mirror, angled just enough to catch every movement. It isn’t just recording—it’s observing, cataloging, waiting. The invisible gaze prickles my skin. How many are there in this place? A chill creeps up my spine as I wonder who’s watching and what they’re looking for.
Wesley stops in front of an unmarked door. He turns, his piercing blue eyes lock onto mine. “Welcome to the story you’ve chosen, Charlotte,” he says, his tone smooth and foreboding. “Let’s see how it unfolds.”
He pushes the door open, and my heart pounds as I step through, crossing the threshold into the unknown.
What do you think of Wesley so far? Share your thoughts in the comments
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© 2024 Scarlett Witherspoon. All rights reserved. This story is protected under copyright law.
I absolutely love this story!
I just read all four chapters, and I can't wait for the next.
Thank you for sharing your work. :)