Chapter 236: The Velvet Vault

Chapter 236: Chapter 236: The Velvet Vault

The heavy, soundproofed double doors of The Velvet Vault swung open, swallowing the five partners in a wave of warm air, deep sub-bass, and the amber glow of low-slung crystal chandeliers.

Down on the main floor, a dense house beat throbbed through the floorboards as hostesses in dark silk dresses wove through tables of high-stakes traders, young executives, and off-duty socialites.

A velvet curtain at the back parted, and the club’s lead host instantly recognized the group, stepping forward with a practiced bow. "Good evening, gentlemen. Your booth on the upper deck is ready."

They walked up the carpeted stairs to the elevated VIP mezzanine overlooking the main dance floor. Their table was a sprawling, semi-circular booth of stitched black leather, positioned far enough back from the balcony edge to offer privacy, but open enough to absorb the energy of the club.

Noah dropped into the booth first, kicking his legs out and letting out a loud, theatrical groan as he unbuttoned his top two shirt buttons. "Oh, thank God. If I had to sit in that boardroom looking at drainage maps for one more minute, my brain was going to leak out of my ears."

"You wouldn’t know a good drainage map if it bit you, Noah," Leon laughed, sliding in beside him and immediately signaling a hostess with a raised hand. "Get us three bottles of the thirty-year single malt, ice, and whatever signature mixers you’ve got on deck."

Marcus unbuttoned his dark blazer, folded it with methodical precision, and laid it neatly over the back of the leather seat before sitting down. He checked his watch, his posture as rigid as if he were still presiding over an executive meeting. "We have the site clearance walkthrough at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. Drinking heavily tonight is an operational error."

Noah rolled his eyes dramatically, grabbing a bowl of roasted nuts from the table. "Look at him. The CEO admits he’s out of the office, but he still sounds like an Excel spreadsheet. Loosen up, Marcus! We just won the airport tender!"

’You just saying that because it’s not you who gets to handle the mess,’ Marcus thought, glancing at Noah with a helpless smile. ’If I don’t keep an eye on the schedule, we’ll lose half our margin before the first excavator even starts up.’

Adrian sat on the far edge of the booth, leaning back into the corner with his arms folded. He swirled a crystal glass of plain ice water, his face completely expressionless as he watched the crowd below. He didn’t say a word.

Jake took his place near the center, relaxed and quiet. He unbuttoned his collar, leaning back against the leather cushion with one arm resting over the back of the seat. He said nothing, simply taking in the scene with a nonchalant, reserved calm. At barely twenty-one, his personal net worth was rapidly approaching a staggering three hundred billion marks—making him, by a wide margin, the single wealthiest person in the room, if not the entire club. Yet he carried it with an effortless, almost invisible gravity.

A few minutes later, the hostesses set down two massive ice buckets containing the vintage scotch, alongside crystal tumblers and chilled soda water.

Leon took a quick shot directly from a tumbler, setting it down with a sharp click before scanning the VIP balcony. His eyes lit up as he spotted a group of five stylishly dressed young women sitting near the champagne bar.

"Watch and learn, boys," Leon grinned, sliding out of the booth. "This table has way too much testosterone."

"Leon, don’t—" Marcus started, his brow furrowing, but Leon was already walking away.

Across the balcony, the five girls turned as Leon approached them. The moment they looked past his shoulder and recognized the rest of the guys sitting in the booth, their expressions changed instantly.

In their eyes, these five men weren’t just wealthy—they were the apex predators of the city’s young elite. Every girl in the Vault knew who they were. The realization hit them like an electric shock: even if becoming a girlfriend was an impossible dream, simply securing a spot as a side piece to any one of these men would guarantee designer clothes, luxury apartments, and a lifetime of financial security.

’Is that... Marcus Sheele and Adrian Rivers?’ one of the girls thought, her heart hammering against her ribs as she fixed her lipstick. ’If I can just catch the eye of one of them, I won’t ever have to worry about rent again.’

A sudden flurry of nervous whispers and hasty adjustments of lip gloss followed before all five girls eagerly followed Leon back to the booth.

"Look who I found wandering around the bar," Leon announced, stepping back in and gesturing for the girls to join them.

As the girls approached, their excitement gave way to a palpable wave of tension. They recognized each man instantly, and the dynamics of the table quickly became clear.

Adrian didn’t even turn his head. He kept his gaze fixed on the main floor below, swirling his ice water without offering a glance or a word. None of the girls dared to step anywhere near his side of the booth.

Marcus looked up as two of the girls hesitated near his seat. His expression remained stern and rigid. "I’m not interested," he said flatly, his tone polite but completely unyielding before he turned back to check an email on his phone.

Then their eyes landed on Jake.

He hadn’t said anything since they walked up. He simply sat there, leaning back, watching them. The weight of his status hung heavy in the air. This was Jake Rivers—the head of Golden Investments, approaching three hundred billion marks. The girls stared at him with wide, anxious eyes, completely paralyzed by fear. None of them possessed the courage to step into his space.

Jake’s eyes slowly scanned the group. His gaze passed over four of the girls—who were practically trembling under his quiet scrutiny—and settled on the fifth girl standing at the very back.

Unlike the others, who wore eye-catching designer dresses and heavy makeup tailored for high-end clubbing, she wore a simple, conservative beige dress. She looked completely out of place, her hands tightly clutching her small purse as she nervously chewed her lower lip, clearly dragged along by her friends.

Jake raised two fingers slightly and pointed directly at her.

"You," Jake said softly, his deep voice carrying easily over the music. "Come sit next to me."

The girl froze, her face draining of color. She looked terrified, her heart hammering in her chest, but she didn’t dare disobey. She took a slow, hesitant step forward.

As she passed one of her heavily made-up friends, the friend leaned in close, whispering sharply into her ear with a mix of intense envy and bitter frustration: "You hit the jackpot... Jake Rivers is every girl’s dream man and he just picked ’you’? Don’t forget us when you become rich. If it wasn’t for us bringing you here tonight, you would’ve never gotten a chance to even breathe the same air as him."

Jake didn’t hear the hushed words over the thumping bass, but he caught the girl’s subtle flinch. He watched her eyes glisten with a mixture of shame and distress as she swallowed hard, her head hanging low.

She crept over to Jake’s side of the booth and sat down delicately on the very edge of the leather, keeping her distance as if afraid to touch his clothes.

"What’s your name?" Jake asked, his voice calm over the bass.

"M-Magdalene," she stammered, her fingers tightly knotting together in her lap.

"Magdalene," Jake repeated smoothly. "That’s a nice name. Mind if I call you Maggie?"

She gave a quick, nervous nod, her heart racing. ’Magdalene? Maggie? Oh God, I’m sitting right next to Jake Rivers... these guys literally own half the city’s private equity. What is happening right now?’

"Relax," Jake said, pouring a glass of chilled iced tea from the mixer tray and placing it gently in front of her. "I’m not going to do anything to you. I saw you looking completely out of place over there and decided to save you from standing around."

Magdalene looked up at him briefly, then immediately darted her eyes back down to her lap.

’Yeah, right,’ she thought, her mind spiraling with anxiety. ’This is the exact kind of smooth tongue and white lies my mother warned me about... He just wants me to lower my guard so he can use me and toss me aside later. I should have just stayed in the dorm and studied. Why did I let them drag me out here just because it’s my birthday?’

Seeing two girls still standing awkwardly in the middle of the aisle after being rejected by Marcus and avoided by Adrian, Noah and Leon exchanged a quick glance.

"Well, if Marcus is on a monastery diet and Adrian’s frozen solid, we aren’t going to let good company go to waste," Noah grinned, sliding over. "Come on in. Two for me, two for Leon."

"Now this is how you celebrate winning a multi-billion-mark tender!" Leon laughed, pulling the remaining two girls into his side of the booth and pouring fresh glasses of champagne.

Noah immediately launched into an exaggerated story about his stock trades, making the two girls beside him laugh loudly while Leon ordered another round of fruit platters. Marcus let out a resigned sigh, returning to his tablet, while Adrian remained entirely detached in his corner, ignoring the noise around him.

Jake leaned back, taking a slow sip of his scotch while Magdalene sat beside him on the edge of the seat, her hands trembling slightly as she stared at the glass of iced tea.

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