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.
