She nodded.
“Please follow me.” Adam pointed the way as he led her toward another staircase. “VIP is up this way. I would recommend you lead your guests along the south wall. Crossing the dance floor to get to the stairs is a nightmare, and going by the bar is a deathtrap. I’ll need to introduce you to Bruno. He checks VIP guests in. He’s very thorough. If you aren’t VIP, you don’t get past him. Security will give you bands for all your guests when you come in. That way, your party can come and go through the different areas as they please.”
He went up the stairs, pointing out certain areas of the club that could only be seen from his vantage point. She was amazed by the beautiful details of the building. The higher they climbed, the more she was able to discover. Without question the most awe-inspiring part were the hanging gardens that appeared to float above the dance floor. She imagined the view was more spectacular when the theater lights illuminated their perfection.
Adam paused to let her admire the view. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?”
“Breathtaking,” she agreed.
“It was Elliot’s idea. He had this vision to make the club resemble the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. He flew in a historian and a landscape architect to recreate it. We were all skeptical at first, but the results speak for themselves.” He leaned forward and wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “And they retract. See those cords?” He pointed to one of the gardens. Thandie could just make out thin black cords attached to the planter’s metal railing. “The cords go all the way up to the ceiling,” he explained. “That’s how the gardens are housed and maintained. We have a gardener who comes in daily. Because they’re delicate, we don’t display the gardens often. But when we do, this place is magical.”
Keeping them on task, Adam nudged her to continue moving. At the top of the steps was yet another door. Adam pushed the large door that opened into the VIP room. It was a three-level, glass-enclosed “club within a club.” The wall facing the main arena was made entirely of glass, giving everyone below a great “envy” view.
Adam stood alongside Thandie. “I’ve managed VIP rooms in Miami and LA,” he confessed. “This is by far the coolest lounge I’ve ever been in. It’s six-thousand-square-feet. Seats up to two hundred, holds up to five hundred standing. There are three full bars, one on each level. Five bartenders and eight servers. Private bathrooms are on the left of the bar on all levels. A DJ is always stationed on the main floor; however, if we have a guest DJ performing we pipe in the music. Pretty cool, huh?”
Thandie was speechless. As Adam walked her through the rooms, she was impressed by the display of sheer luxury.
“If you think this is nice, wait until you see the Tower,” he said.
“The what?”
“Just a minute.” He walked over to a hidden elevator and waved his hand over the panel. “Only the staff is allowed to use the elevator. During working hours, we ask everyone to refrain from using it. However, you and your guests are welcome to use it during off hours. It leads up to the Tower. You can take the stairs if you like. It’s more scenic, but if you prefer a straight shot, the elevator is always here. The code to go to the Tower is one-two-two-one.”
He punched in the code, and they rode up to the Tower. When the doors opened, she couldn’t suppress her gasp. It was a beautiful oasis of hanging gardens, private balconies, open fountains and satin pillows. Adam seemed happy she was impressed with the room.
“I knew you would love it,” he boasted. “We call it the Tower of Babel. This room is reserved for the ultimate VIP guests. There is a private entrance that leads up from the parking garage. This is the pinnacle in intimacy and privacy. It seats up to thirty, standing room for up to fifty. There are six servers and a private restroom. As you can imagine, this room is in high demand. This is Elliot’s best idea yet. It’s been a huge hit since we reopened from the renovation. We’ve had several parties up here already. It’s a great revenue-turner. Even on slow nights, the Tower brings in serious cash. We’ve already got a waiting list.”
She felt his gaze on her as she walked about the room running her fingers along the smooth furnishings.
“It’s ten times more impressive at night, lit primarily by candlelight. Sexy stuff.”
She nodded her agreement. “This is amazing, Adam.”
“It is.” He clapped his hands. “Bruno should be here by now. Let’s go downstairs and get you two acquainted. If we’re lucky, Elliot will be free to speak with you soon.”
The office door belonging to the mysterious Elliot Richards was still closed when they returned to the main floor; however, Bruno was available. He didn’t have much to say, only grunts and occasional nods. Adam helped by briefly explaining Bruno’s role and indexing a long list of responsibilities that fell under his authority.
Almost as soon as Adam and Bruno finished their overview, Thandie was introduced to Markie Duran, the club’s general manager. He was pleasant enough and eager to bring her up to speed on Babylon’s network of rules and securities. There was so much to take in, Thandie doubted she absorbed half of it. She was coming to realize Club Babylon was not simply a nightclub—it was a money-making machine. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
“I should have brought a notepad to take notes,” Thandie commented once Markie finished his presentation.
“Don’t worry,” Markie said with a laugh. “In a few short nights, you’ll know this place like the back of your hand.”
Thandie hoped he was right about that. The sheer size of the club was intimidating.
“It’s too bad you weren’t in town a week earlier,” Adam added. “You missed the birthday bash.” He winked at Markie, and both men gave a wicked laugh.
“Whose birthday?” Thandie’s question faded when the door leading to Elliot’s office suddenly opened. The reaction was immediate. The muscular man guarding the door stepped aside to allow several men to exit the office and descend the staircase. Thandie craned her neck, trying to get a good look at each man. “Which one is Elliot?”
“None,” Adam confirmed with a quick glance. “It looks like Elliot’s free. We better grab him while we can.”
Taking hold of Thandie’s elbow, he guided her up the stairs, pausing only long enough to quickly introduce her to the burly black man who stood guard outside the office door. She learned his name was Vincent Michelle, but preferred to be called Michelle.
Thandie crossed the threshold and stepped into a spacious, sleekly decorated office. The walls facing the arena were made entirely of one-way glass, providing an uninhibited view of the club without being seen. Oddly shaped lamps lit the room, which softened the modern furniture and created an intimate atmosphere.
Thandie’s gaze continued to sweep over the room, and then she faltered. There he was. The man she’d flown over a thousand miles to meet—Elliot Richards. He was leaning casually against the edge of a large glass desk, staring at her. It was as if he’d been patiently waiting her for the entire time, and not the other way around.
The instant her eyes met his, Thandie froze in place. She watched, spellbound, as the sinfully handsome man pulled himself up to his full height and approached them. He was tall, tanned and mouth-watering. A one-of-a-kind Ferrari. He was perfection in motion. With every step he took, Thandie became more convinced of one thing: Elliot Richards had been well worth the wait.
He had satin black hair, captivating silver eyes, a strong chin and kissable lips. He was dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt and black slacks that could only be tailor-made to fit. His shirt pulled tightly across a muscular chest, his golden skin a stark contrast against the crisp fabric. He had a cool air that drew her to him, with very little effort on his part. Now, she understood why Adam had warned her.
“Hello.”