Page 43 of Queen of Vice

The grandeur of the place, the armed men, the sea of impeccably dressed people—it was all overwhelming. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath catching as I tried to keep my nerves in check. We bypassed the main entrance, the driver taking a turn that led us through a set of iron gates that slid open without a sound. As we circled around the building, I could feel the tension in the car rising. Melody and Peyton were both sitting a little straighter, their eyes darting around as they took in the surroundings.

The driver guided the car down a small ramp, leading us under the building. The change in lighting was immediate, a cooler, more subdued glow replacing the evening sunlight. We entered what was clearly a private parking garage, the polished floors gleaming under the soft lights embedded in the ceiling. A few luxury cars were already parked, each one as pristine and expensive as the last.

My anxiety flared up again, my fingers tightening around the clutch in my lap. The sight of those cars, each one probably costing more than I could ever dream of affording, only added to the overwhelming sense of being out of place. Melody noticed and shot me a reassuring look, but I could see the concern in her eyes.

Our ride came to a stop, and the driver turned off the engine. He didn’t say anything, just waited for the signal to let us out. Two men in dark suits approached us and one opened the door closest to Melody.

“This way, please,” the other said, his voice smooth and professional as he gestured for us to enter the lift. As the doors slid shut behind us, the lift began to ascend, and the solid wall in front of us suddenly transformed into tempered glass.

The club's interior was nothing short of breathtaking. It was a world unto itself, where luxury met decadence in a perfect storm. The main area was bathed in moody, atmospheric lighting that highlighted the rich tones of deep purples, golds, and blacks that dominated the space. The floors were sleek and polished, reflecting the ambient lights that danced across them, giving the illusion of movement beneath your feet.

The seating arrangements were equally impressive, with plush velvet forming intimate alcoves for the elite clientele. Each area was surrounded by low tables with glass tops, lit softly from within.

Above the main floor, towering columns reached up to a high ceiling, where chandeliers hung like modern art installations. The abstract designs mimicked the sparkle of stars, casting a warm, inviting glow over the entire space.

One of the most striking features was the DJ booth, set within a large circular structure that resembled a portal to another world. The backdrop was an enormous, vivid screen displaying shifting images—clouds of red and black, a stormy sky that seemed to pulse with the beat of the music. Two sleek black panther statues flanked the booth, adding an almost primal edge to the sophisticated surroundings.

In another part of the club, there were private stages, each with a singular pole, where performers—draped in shimmering fabrics—moved with ethereal grace. The lights there were more intense, spotlighting the performers in an array of colors, making their movements even more mesmerizing.

We stepped out of the lift once the doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit hallway. The polished marble flooring reflected the soft glow from the potted trees wrapped in diamond lighting. It was quiet—too quiet—and the atmosphere held a weight that made my pulse quicken. At the end of the hall, a grand marble staircase spiraled upward, leading to two large, tinted glass doors. Without a word, the man in front of us stepped out, and we followed, our footsteps echoing softly against the marble.

“Look,” Melody whispered, nodding toward a darkened corner by the double doors. I blinked and focused, finally noticing the man I’d completely missed, blending seamlessly into the shadows. He was dressed in simple suit pants and a plain button-down, but there was nothing plain about the intensity in his stance.

My eyes drifted to the other corner, and, sure enough, another man was standing there, looking both bored and at full attention simultaneously.

As we approached, they turned their heads in unison, stepping forward in perfect sync to open the doors. The moment we stepped through, I realized how deliberately every part of this place was designed to impress, intimidate, or both. The room we entered was expansive and luxurious, with plush seating, elegant lighting, and an unmistakable air of exclusivity. It wasn’t just the opulence that struck me—it was the realization that this wasn’t just a nightclub. This was Mateo’s domain, a place where deals were made, and people were either valued or dismissed by a single word from him.

The walls were adorned with dark, textured wallpaper, and the dim lighting cast long shadows that accentuated the opulence of the space. Plush, oversized sofas in a deep, luxurious shade of black velvet were arranged around a sleek, low-slung coffee table made of polished onyx.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint but unmistakable aroma of smoke, mingling together in a heady concoction that felt almost intoxicating. The ceiling was adorned with an abstract light fixture that looked like shattered glass caught mid-explosion, casting fractured beams of light across the room.

Shelves lined the walls, displaying an array of crystal decanters, each filled with rich, amber liquids that gleamed under the soft glow of the lights. In the center of the room, two women, topless and wearing only bunny-tailed thongs, moved in tandem around a polished chrome pole, their movements synchronized and almost hypnotic. Another two women, fully clothed but just as striking, lounged on one of the sofas, their eyes occasionally drifting to the men surrounding them.

On the coffee table sat two diamond-encrusted platters of cocaine.

Some had clearly been indulged, as evidenced by the smudged remnants of a few piles. The scene was one of excess wealth, a clear indication that nothing was off-limits here. Despite the distractions, my eyes were drawn to a familiar pair that stood out—Mateo’s. His gaze was locked onto mine, unwavering and intense, as if daring me to look away first. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile, a gesture that felt both reassuring and ominous at the same time.

He stood up and approached us, his presence commanding the room. He was dressed differently than earlier, looking like a GQ image come to life. His tailored suit was impeccable, every detail perfectly in place, and his hair was slicked back with precision. As he reached us, everything he had done to me earlier came flooding back.

"You look absolutely stunning," he murmured, taking my hand in his while leaning down to place a kiss on my cheek.

His hand felt like a brand, marking me as his in front of everyone. He then turned to greet Peyton and Melody; his tone was friendly but with an underlying authority that made it clear who was in charge. After exchanging pleasantries, he introduced us to the others in the room.

“This is my brother Elias and our cousin Sergio,” Mateo said as I settled into the luxurious space. Elias grinned at us, the resemblance to Mateo uncanny. He had the same dark, brooding features, only with a slightly boyish charm. His clean-shaven face and lighter eyes gave him a softer look, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance.

Sergio, on the other hand, was bulkier, with striking green eyes and a more rugged appearance. A lithe blonde was seated beside him, engaged in a game of bones with Elias.

“Ah, Elena, the beautiful new woman in my brother’s life,” Elias remarked, his grin widening. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

I couldn’t bring myself to lie that I felt the same, and I could tell that was exactly the right response with him--none at all. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, one that matched Mateo’s in a way that was both endearing and unsettling.

“Next, we have Teddy and Diablo,” Mateo continued.

Diablo looked like he could bench press tanks for fun, his muscles straining against his suit, while Teddy’s appearance lived up to his nickname—a bear of a man with long hair tied back, a soft yet dangerous air about him. Mateo’s final introduction was for a man who had been watching us with keen interest the second we stepped in. “And last but not least, my cousin, Angel.”

This man’s gaze was sharp, assessing, and I could immediately sense that he was just as dangerous as Mateo, if not more so. The name rang a bell—Angel Escuro.

He was the one who controlled Liberty City, another significant territory in the Escuro empire. His reputation preceded him, and the power he held was almost palpable. As Mateo continued speaking, introducing me to the people who seemed to orbit around him, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being introduced to something far more sinister than just a new circle of acquaintances.

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