AllFreeNovel
Share Us
After all, we hire the best of the best, and no one gets into our club without being vetted.
I walk down the narrow corridor to the reception desk, where Samantha, our hostess, jumps up from her place and quickly grabs her tablet, rushing to me. “Florian, we have a problem.” She taps on the display, practically shoving the tablet in my face. “I need you to look into this before it becomes a scandal.” Her voice stays even while a blank expression takes over her flawless features, reminding me again that she’s cold and focused, just like she promised us when we hired her.
God knows this place wouldn’t run as smoothly without her, and we show our gratitude with more than generous bonus checks.
Loyalty is an admirable character trait, but you won’t have it for long unless you attach money to it.
“Send it to my email. I’ll check it out once we’re done,” I inform her, and by the heavy footsteps trailing me, I know the rest of the dark four followed me after I finished acting like the perfect godson back in the Cortez mansion and got the fucking message on my phone that couldn’t wait any longer.
I haven’t said a single word to my friends, but then again I didn’t have to.
My actions were enough to alert them about the upcoming danger because Prices don’t leave parties early. We fucking enjoy them till the last minute, basking in all the attention and sizzling energy around us.
Although I haven’t indulged in that particular favorite activity of mine in years due to a certain dark-haired beauty who did an excellent job of avoiding me tonight.
My hands fist as possessiveness and fury wash over me, filling every cell in my body, and I put the tablet away. “Make sure no one interrupts us, Sam.”
“Of course.”
I push at the massive double doors designed specifically by me and made out of the finest wood to keep the luxurious vibe consistent, enjoying how they practically vibrate under my palms from the music. The minute they open, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes hit me, as fast, loud music mixing with the click of shoes on the parquet grates on my ears.
Once a month, we have a special night designed for gore and sin, which means everyone wears a mask, hiding their faces and keeping their identities a mystery.
A night full of freedom, although some give themselves away by wearing expensive limited edition designer clothes to attract all the attention they need.
We know some of these dresses include knockoffs just to catch someone rich in their net, not that we give a fuck. We intentionally allow the gold diggers and social climbers inside to provide a variety to our rich customers while they get the opportunity to win their lucky ticket.
We call it a win-win situation.
As long as they follow the rules and no one forces anyone into anything. Otherwise, they are out.
We don’t give second chances.
People lose themselves on the dance floor, rubbing against each other, and some even dance away to the quiet corners to fuck each other’s brains out.
Threesomes, foursomes. Whatever they wish as long as it’s consensual between the adults.
They pay a hefty price to come here, and we love to thrive in chaos. What’s more chaotic than exposing people to their deepest vices and then using it to our advantage?
We’re all billionaires, and the only reason we decided to open this place was to use it as a cover-up and a blackmailing ground since no one bothers to hide their sexual preferences in here. One thing powerful and wealthy men love more than money…is exclusivity.
Dangle the word around them long enough and praise the club, and they will do anything to get in because receiving an invitation from us is a different form of status and prestige.
Any kind of relationship in this world is a chess game. You play it right, and you’ll get what you want with minimal effort and the least loss.
Despite the huge profits our establishment brings, it’s pocket change for the likes of us, and we donate most of it to four charities.
Santiago’s share goes to the families affected by great loss.
Remi’s share goes to foster children who dream about higher education, and he’s funded several scholarships.
Octavius’s share goes to the shelter for abused people that he opened up in our name to help them escape dangerous situations and get a second chance in life.
Mine go to a special shelter I created for teenagers whose parents kicked them out for whatever reason. Be it for their sexuality, different religious views, or lack thereof. They finish school in peace and have some financial resources to pursue further education.
“Oh my God. It’s them!” a woman exclaims, her slurred voice bringing my attention back to the present. “The owners.”
“They are so hot,” her friend says, grinning at me and adjusting her short dress, but she freezes under my cold stare that warns her in advance to back off.
