Levi

The bass from the music thrummed through the walls of the Vault, a low pulse that matched the rhythm of the burlesque dancer on stage as she slowly peeled off a long silk glove. I took a sip of bourbon, letting the burn slide down my throat while I watched her work the crowd.

Not bad. Talented, even. But she didn’t do it for me.

“You’re brooding again.”

Max Hartley’s voice cut through my thoughts. He sat to my right in one of the leather club chairs, looking like he’d come straight from closing a real estate deal—which, knowing Max, he probably had.

“I’m not brooding,” I said mildly. “I’m observing.”

“You’re definitely brooding,” Jack Wright said from my left. “You’ve been nursing that drink for an hour and haven’t looked twice at anyone.”

He wasn’t wrong. The Vault attracted beautiful women—submissives, switches, curious newcomers all dressed in everything from elegant gowns to scraps of leather and lace. Two women had eyed me with obvious interest. I’d politely smiled