Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, a writhing sea of glitter and sweat. Y/n pushed through the crowd, scanning the VIP section in the back.

A velvet rope. A bouncer the size of a refrigerator. And beyond it, a curved leather booth where a group of men sat, drinks in hand.

One of them raised a hand. Broad-shouldered, messy brown hair, a grin splitting his face.

Up close, the booth was a fortress of expensive cologne and sharp suits. Four men. Three she didn’t recognize.