Page 25 of Remi's War (Four Dark Horsemen 2)

My jaw drops, almost hitting the floor, when realization hits me.

A threesome.

In the club for everyone to see!

“Oh my God,” I mutter, scanning the gorgeous club more and doing my best to ignore the various sex acts happening all around me. A threesome might be the most innocent thing my eyes land on here.

Although, after watching my father build his art empire, I understand the more mysterious the place, the more demand it has among society. And that brings in great profits and the desire to get inside, especially when they say only special people get in.

The richest of the rich would rush to be considered special while only adding to the prestige of the club.

Perfect play on human psychology for their own financial gain indeed.

The club is decorated in silver, red, and black, and the first thought coming to my mind are the four riders of the apocalypse as they rode horses with these colors.

The myth scared me as a child; I much prefer Greek and Roman mythology. I still found it fascinating—the idea of four majestic beings who would come someday to earth to end it, but not before sending misery to all those around them.

The bar is in the back, right corner with four bartenders busily preparing drinks for everyone while the rest of the staff easily navigate through the club to booths and tables in the left corner. They deliver orders of steaming food on porcelain dishes, the delicious smell wafting through the air and making my stomach grumble.

Each one of them wears black pants and white button-up shirts.

When it comes to furniture design, they’ve settled on round, leather couches looking comfortable enough to sit on, and there are chairs at round tables with lamps should anyone need to speak privately. Most of the people sitting at them are either making out or drunk.

I step toward the booths, when Samantha’s voice stops me and gently nudges me to the left to the small stairs. “The VIP zone is on the second floor, which has several soundproof rooms. You’ll be more comfortable there.”

Nothing but the best for the Cortezes’ guests apparently.

Isla stays quiet through the entire thing as we push through the sweaty bodies before going up the stairs, her eyes studying every little detail it seems for how focused she is, while Samantha continues to chat. “Twice a month, we have special dance shows. You should really come next time. I’m afraid tonight is a bit boring.”

A chuckle slips past my lips. “Trust me, I won’t survive it getting any more interesting.”

She grins at me as we step into a narrow hallway with about a dozen private rooms, and she swipes the card for number seven.

The interior is almost identical to downstairs with the only difference being the couches are black and a private bar filled with an expensive selection of liquor is on the side.

However, the most striking thing about the VIP lounge is the glass wall that showcases the view of the entire club, presenting it in quite a different light.

Almost sinister and forbidden yet tempting nevertheless.

“Here are the menus.” Samantha puts them on the round table and then points at the small button on it. “Just press here when you want to order, and the server will come.” Her gaze shoots between us. “Should I inform Mr. Cortez about you once he comes?”

“No,” Isla speaks up for the first time, and Sam’s brows shoot up. “Thank you.”

“All right. Have fun, ladies.” She spins around and dances off to the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

I sigh in relief as silence settles around us and sit down on the couch, wiggling my toes in my shoes while gluing my stare to the glass.

Four cages hang from the ceiling with dancers wearing provocative clothes inside, showcasing their skills and flexibility to the awe of everyone watching. The crystals on the chandeliers shift in the breeze from the AC, brightening up the entire space with colorful lights.

“If this thing drops, someone will get injured,” Isla mutters, taking a nut from the dish on the table and popping it in her mouth. “It must cost a fortune.” She drops on the chair opposite me, then rests her chin on her hand.

She wants to talk about a chandelier? Is she kidding me?

“Why are we here?” I snap, focusing my stare on her while she blinks in surprise. “I did what you asked. Don’t you think I deserve to know what the hell is going on?”

“There is a man I need to meet.” My brows furrow. “Since he’s rich, reaching him is almost impossible. Not to mention he kicked me out of his company. He doesn’t want to talk to me. So here we are.”

Oh, God.

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