Chapter 238: Heavy Waters

Chapter 238: Chapter 238: Heavy Waters

The bass from the main floor of The Velvet Vault continued to vibrate through the soles of Jake’s shoes as the clock on the mezzanine wall pushed past two in the morning. Around the booth, empty crystal tumblers and three drained bottles of champagne cluttered the low table.

Leon was sitting back with his arm slung over the leather backrest, flashing a wide grin at the two girls beside him. "I’m telling you, Monaco in July is an amateur’s trap," Leon boasted, taking a sip of champagne. "If you aren’t chartering a private mega-yacht with a dedicated helipad out of Saint-Tropez, you’re basically just standing in line with the tourists."

The two girls laughed, leaning in closer. "And I suppose you have a helipad waiting for you?" one of them teased, twirling a strand of hair.

"Let’s just say my family doesn’t do commercial ferries," Leon winked, pouring them both another glass.

On the other side of the booth, Noah was leaning forward, whispering animatedly to the girl on his lap while casually tapping on his phone. "See this line right here? That’s a three-million-mark swing in eight minutes. Most guys panic, but I held. Next month? Pure profit."

"You make it sound so easy, Noah," she purred, resting her hand lightly on his chest.

Across the mezzanine in an adjacent, slightly lower VIP section, Anthony Paige swirled a glass of imported gin, his dark eyes fixed sharply on Jake’s booth. Back in London, the Paige family name opened every door, granted access to private clubs in Mayfair, and ensured the prettiest women in the room gravitated toward his table automatically. Yet here, in this city, the four finest girls in the venue were clustered around a single booth, completely ignoring his presence.

Anthony felt a hot pulse of irritation rise in his chest. He turned his head toward his two local hosts, Luke and John, who were busy chatting about regional supply chains.

"Who are the blokes in that central booth?" Anthony asked, his British accent dripping with cold condescension. "They seem to think they own the bloody venue."

Luke and John both turned to look. The moment their eyes landed on the semi-circular booth, the color drained from their faces. John choked on his drink, quickly wiping his mouth with a napkin as a sudden sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead.

"Anthony... don’t even think about looking over there," John whispered frantically, leaning across the table. "Seriously, avert your eyes."

"Why?" Anthony sneered, raising an eyebrow. "Are they local thugs?"

"No, they’re worse—they’re the heirs to the five major conglomerates in Veyra," Luke warned sharply, his voice trembling slightly. "That table holds more private equity and industrial political power than the entire central bank. If you offend them, your father’s expansion deal in this country will be dead before sunrise."

Anthony stared at them, an amused, skeptical smirk touching his lips. ’Heirs of a local market? Veyra is a tiny pond compared to the global reach of London capital. What these two cowards fear isn’t even worth registering in my eyes.’

Still, Anthony wasn’t entirely reckless. His father had sent him here specifically to lay the groundwork for their firm’s regional branch, and getting into a petty bar brawl over girls wasn’t on the agenda. Instead, an ambitious idea struck him. He reached into the ice bucket, picked up an unopened, top-tier bottle of sixty-year-old single malt scotch, and stood up.

"Anthony, wait! What are you doing?!" Luke hissed, grabbing at his sleeve with a weak, trembling hand, but he was too terrified to exert any real force.

"Relax," Anthony said smoothly, brushing him off. "I’m just going to say hello."

John clutched his own chest, looking as if he were about to pass out as Anthony casually strode up the short flight of stairs toward the main VIP booth.

As Anthony stepped onto the upper platform, the air seemed to instantly thin out. Elias and Miller—standing like monolithic pillars near the booth entry—subtly shifted their weight. Miller took half a step forward, his broad chest cutting off Anthony’s angle of approach, while Elias’s cold, razor-sharp gaze locked onto the bottle in Anthony’s hand. The sheer physical pressure radiating off Jake’s personal security hit Anthony like a wall of ice, causing his confident stride to falter for a microsecond before he forced his smile to remain firm.

Seeing the shadow fall across the table, Marcus raised his head, his sharp grey eyes tightening with cold executive authority. Adrian didn’t even turn around, but the dangerous silence surrounding him spoke volumes.

"That’s far enough," Miller said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that effortlessly cut through the heavy sub-bass.

Anthony swallowed quietly, adjusting his cuffs while maintaining his posture. "Gentlemen," he spoke up, ensuring his tone struck a balance between authority and diplomatic respect. "I couldn’t help but notice the quiet victory at this table. I’m Anthony Paige—my family operates Paige Financial Group out of London. I’m in Veyra laying the groundwork for our regional expansion."

He held out the vintage bottle, setting it down gently on the edge of the marble tray without intruding further into their space.

"I wanted to pay my respects to the local titans," Anthony continued, his eyes scanning the table before locking onto Jake, whose calm, unbothered posture made it instantly clear who anchored the group. "Consider it a toast from Mayfair to Veyra’s finest. A gesture of goodwill before our paths inevitably cross in the corporate arena."

The tension hung taut in the air for two long seconds. Then, Jake offered a faint, dry smirk, swirling the scotch in his tumbler. The invisible, crushing weight in the air dissipated in an instant.

"Paige Financial," Jake repeated smoothly, his voice carrying an effortless, terrifying calm. "I know about your father’s recent energy acquisitions in northern Europe. Ambitious expansion."

Anthony felt a sudden prickle of heat behind his neck. ’He knows about our recent movements?’

"Marcus Sheele," Marcus said with a crisp, formal nod, acknowledging the business protocol. "We appreciate the gesture, Mr. Paige."

"Leon Hart," Leon added with a casual tilt of his glass. "Enjoy the city, mate."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Anthony said, bowing his head slightly. "I’ll let you return to your evening."

As Anthony turned and walked back down the stairs, he felt a subtle sweat breaking out along his collarbone. He hadn’t been humiliated, but for the first time since landing in Veyra, he realized the local sharks weren’t regional big shots—they were apex predators sitting on a mountain of liquid power.

Back at his table, Luke and John looked like men who had just watched someone step into a minefield and walk out untouched. John was slump-shouldered, breathing heavily into his hands.

"Anthony... you nearly gave me a bloody heart attack!" John gasped, wiping his brow with a trembling hand. "Why on earth would you walk straight up to them like that?!"

Anthony sat back down, pouring himself a fresh drink as a dark, calculated smile touched his lips. "Why do you two look like you just survived a war? John, you look like you’re about to pass out."

"Because you almost brought the entire high command down on our heads!" John shuddered.

"Nonsense," Anthony said smoothly, swirling his glass as his eyes drifted back up to Jake’s booth. "I simply wanted to test the waters and say hi to the local sharks. In business, it’s always wise to let the top players know you’ve entered the board."

---

Up in the central booth, the guys didn’t even talk about Anthony after he left. The continued with what they were doing.

Jake checked the classic watch on his wrist. It was pushing two-thirty. He set his tumbler down and looked over at Magdalene, who was sitting relaxed against the back of the leather seat.

"It’s getting late," Jake noted smoothly, sliding out of the booth and buttoning his jacket. "Maggie, you should head back."

Magdalene looked around at her friends, who were completely absorbed in drinking champagne with Leon and Noah. "I... I guess I will call a cab."

"A cab at three in the morning?" Jake asked, raising an eyebrow slightly. "Look around. Your friends aren’t leaving anytime soon, and there’s nothing left for you here tonight."

Magdalene glanced at her untouched tea, then back at the loud crowd below. He was completely right. Sitting here any longer was pointless.

"My driver and bodyguards are outside," Jake added calmly. "I’ll drop you off directly at your university dorms on my way home."

A faint flush touched her cheeks, but the sheer security of his presence made the choice obvious. "Okay... thank you, Jake."

"Marcus, I’m heading out," Jake said, turning to the table.

"Good. Don’t be late for the eight-thirty site inspection," Marcus replied with a crisp nod.

Jake led Magdalene down the VIP staircase, with Elias and Miller falling into step perfectly two paces behind them. They stepped out of the heavy double doors into the cool night air. Miller quickly stepped ahead, pulling the rear door of the sleek black Maybach open.

"Get in," Jake said gently.

Magdalene slid onto the executive rear leather seat, gasping softly at the sheer luxury of the custom interior. Jake sat beside her, closing the door as Miller took the driver’s seat and Elias sat in the front passenger side. The engine hummed softly into life, pulling out smoothly into the quiet streets.

Twenty minutes later, the Maybach rolled to a stop right in front of the main gates of State University’s female dormitories.

"We’re here, Miss," Miller announced respectfully from the front.

Magdalene turned to Jake, her heart feeling surprisingly light. "Jake... thank you so much. For saving me from the crowd, for the tea, and for the ride. It turned out to be a really great twenty-first birthday."

Jake offered a faint, genuine smile. "Happy birthday, Maggie. Work hard on those finals."

"I will!" she smiled, stepping out of the car. She waved once before turning and walking safely through the campus gates.

Miller pulled back onto the main avenue, steering the car toward the elevated residential district. "Heading home to The Zenith, sir?"

"Yeah. Take the highway," Jake murmured, resting his head back against the leather headrest.

---

Ten minutes later, the private penthouse elevator chimed softly. Jake stepped into the quiet foyer, taking off his suit jacket and unbuttoning his cuffs as he walked down the dimly lit hallway.

He pushed the master bedroom door open gently. The room was bathed in the warm, ambient glow of the city skyline. Catharine was tucked under the dark silk sheets, leaning back against the plush headboard in an oversized cream silk sleep shirt, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders as she reviewed a document on her tablet.

She looked up as he entered, a soft, radiant smile instantly brightening her features.

"Look who finally made it back," Catharine murmured softly, setting the tablet onto the nightstand. "I thought Leon and Noah were going to keep you hostage until sunrise."

Jake walked over, sitting on the edge of the mattress, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to her lips. She tasted like mint tea. Catharine wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, pulling him closer before catching the faint scent of club air.

"You smell like vintage scotch and club smoke," she teased softly, her dark eyes sparkling with affection as her fingers lightly stroked the back of his neck.

"Leon ordered half the menu," Jake chuckled softly, unbuttoning his collar. "And Noah spent forty minutes groaning because he thinks I’m going to outbid him at a hypercar auction in Geneva next month."

Catharine let out a quiet, melodic laugh, shifting over to lean against his back, resting her chin on his shoulder while he unbuttoned his shirt. "Did you at least celebrate properly? I hope Marcus didn’t spend the entire night reviewing site plans at the table."

"He tried," Jake smirked, turning his head to kiss her cheek. "Left two minutes after I did."

Catharine let out a contented sigh, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind. "Good. You worked so hard recently. You deserved a night to relax."

Jake turned around on the bed, sliding under the covers beside her and pulling her soft frame tightly into his arms. Catharine rested her head against his chest, her fingers tracing gentle patterns over his ribs.

"Were you waiting up for me?" Jake asked softly, running his fingers through her long, silk-soft hair.

"Always," she whispered, her voice growing heavy with sleep as she snuggled deeper into his warmth.

Jake smiled into the quiet darkness of the room, pressing a long, tender kiss to her forehead as the penthouse settled into absolute peaceful silence.

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