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“Markovic Holdings is launching its new nonalcoholic vodka next summer. The timing lines up perfectly with the Vault’s launch,” I said. I’d named the club the Vault after its (hopeful) location. “We can host an exclusive preview and have a bespoke bar highlighting the drink. Sloane Kensington is in charge of the opening; it’ll be the nightlife event of the season. Every tastemaker who matters will be there, and it’ll be the first of our Tastemaker Series.”
The idea was simple—a monthly event series where attendees would receive early and/or exclusive access to everything from food to performances to fashion previews, all while sipping Castillo beer and Markovic alcohol.
My family specialized in beer, but Vuk helmed a massive liquor empire that ranged from cheap wine any college student could buy to fine champagne so rare, only a handful of bottles were produced annually. Next year, they were diversifying into the rapidly growing zero-proof alcohol sector, and the company was putting big money into making it a success.
The signature Tastemaker Series would take place on a separate night from general nightclub revelry, but its purpose wasn’t to draw regular parties. It catered to the media and influencers, who always liked being the first to try anything new; their attendance, plus the ever-evolving nature of the events, would create fresh buzz every month and keep the club at the forefront of people’s minds.
At least, that was the plan.
Vuk waited until I finished my spiel before firing rounds of methodical questions at me.
Who are your competitors?
Do you have a location under contract?
Do you have any other brands or businesses lined up to participate in the Tastemaker Series?
How the hell will you pull all this off in less than six months?
He didn’t say the last part, but it was implied.
Technically, he didn’t say anything at all; the questions came in the form of written notes. No one knew much about him beyond his business dealings, but according to rumors, his non-verbalism wasn’t due to medical reasons (legend had it he’d once said “thank you” to a Valhalla attendant). He just really fucking hated talking.
I addressed Vuk’s concerns as best I could, but my confidence waned in the face of his unchanging stoicism.
“The Vault will be the biggest splash in New York nightlife since Legends,” I said. “I have the connections, the vision, and the drive, but at the end of the day, this business is about instinct. What works, what doesn’t, what’s the next big thing. You can’t buy it or learn it.” I leaned forward, keeping my eyes on his. “I have it, and if you sign on as my partner, I’ll make us into actual fucking legends.”
I’d devised the club as a way to fulfill my inheritance clause while sticking it to my father, but now that I had time to sit with it, Iwantedto make it work. Not for money, family, or the world, but for myself. I wanted to prove I could do this.
Vuk stared at me, his expression remote.
I understood why most people crapped themselves when they were in the same room as him. There was something deeply unsettling about the Serb. Maybe it was a combination of his silence, his status, and his scars; maybe it was something else entirely.
Either way, nerves rattled in my veins when he started writing.
He slid the paper across his desk less than thirty seconds later.
Come back to me when you’ve secured a location.
Dammit. Securing the location I had in mind was near impossible without Vuk as a partner.
If that was a deal-breaker, why the hell hadn’t he said so before we scheduled this meeting?
I swallowed my disappointment, thanked him for his time, and exited his office. On my way out, I passed by a dark-haired man with—holy shit, was that Ayana?
“Hey, is Vuk busy?” the man asked. He must’ve seen me leaving the Serb’s office.
I masked my surprise. Very few people called Vuk by his first name out loud; he reportedly hated it.
“He wasn’t when I left.”
The man nodded. “Thanks.”
Ayana gave me a brief smile in passing. With her luminous dark skin and high cheekbones, the supermodel looked even more ethereal in person, but I felt a grand total of nothing. Not even a flicker of lust or attraction.
Sloane and I had kissed once, and she’d already ruined me for other women.
I should be more alarmed at this development, but I found it hard to summon anything other than a smile when I saw her pacing the library. I’d signed Sloane in before my meeting with Vuk, and while I didn’tneedmoral support, I loved having her there.
