Veil System: Running a Model, High-End Escort and Marriage Agency
Chapter 59: The Black Rose – Level B3: The Billionaire’s Playground

Chapter 59: The Black Rose – Level B3: The Billionaire’s Playground

A long, dimly lit hallway stretched out before them, lined with sleek black panels that pulsed faintly with golden threads of light, shifting like they were alive. There were no signs, no labels, no directions. If you belonged here, you knew. If you didn’t? You weren’t supposed to be here in the first place.

To their right, an open lounge sprawled out like something straight out of a cyberpunk fever dream, except dripping in opulence. Low, futuristic couches of the finest Italian leather were arranged around hovering glass tables, their surfaces glowing with real-time stock market updates, crypto fluctuations, and God-knows-what deals being brokered in real time.

The ceiling above them? It wasn’t just a ceiling.

It was a custom-built, interactive display that mimicked the night sky, showing a hyper-realistic, shifting view of the cosmos, dotted with constellations that subtly rearranged themselves, forming patterns only someone insanely rich and bored would bother to decode.

And the people?

Justin had been to Vegas’ most expensive clubs, had rubbed elbows with celebrities, heirs, CEOs—but this? This was a different league.

There was no flashiness here. No influencers or wannabe socialites pretending to be part of the elite.

The men in this room owned the skyscrapers that others partied in. The women here weren’t just models—they were heiresses, power players, and business sharks who could make or break a fortune with a single whispered conversation.

A group sat near the lounge, casually sipping wine older than the United States, discussing oil prices and art acquisitions like they were ordering takeout. Another cluster of men were leaned over a table, betting millions over a game of cards—not because they cared about winning, but because they were bored.

And then there were the private rooms.

Justin’s gaze flickered to the sleek, unmarked black doors that lined the hall. Each one discreet, soundproof, guarded by invisible security systems that ensured whatever happened inside never left. These weren’t just VIP suites—these were sanctuaries for the world’s most powerful people to do whatever the fuck they wanted without consequence.

Chloe must have caught the look on his face because she smirked.

"Now do you get it?" she murmured, stepping close. "This isn’t just exclusive. It’s sacred. This is where people come when they want to be themselves—no cameras, no contracts, no reputations to uphold."

Justin exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he muttered. "This isn’t some ’VIP club’ shit. This is—"

"A fucking utopia for billionaires."

And as the doors behind them slid shut, trapping them in the world of the untouchable elite, Justin had one single thought.

What the hell have I just stepped into?

When they reached the bar, it wasn’t just a bar. Hell no. This wasn’t some tacky, neon-lit lounge that screamed "money." This was the heart of Black Rose—the kind of place you’d only see in the dreams of someone with more zeros in their bank account than most countries’ GDP.

The bar was set in the middle of the room like a command center, a place where deals weren’t just made; they were sealed with a nod, a drink, and maybe a quick exchange of power.

It was circular, almost ethereal, as if floating above the floor on an invisible platform, with each seat around it crafted for comfort and status.

The bar top wasn’t just wood or stone; it was some alien glass that shimmered like liquid gold, its surface constantly shifting like it was alive, forming ripples of electric blue and silver with every movement. It wasn’t just decoration—it was an experience.

Behind the bar, a long line of premium spirits stretched across an entire wall, each bottle glowing faintly, as if they were so rare and expensive that even the air around them had to pay tribute.

There were vintage liquors from hidden distilleries in the Swiss Alps, aged whiskeys that had been distilled before the turn of the century, and exclusive vodkas only available to the 1%—all encased in platinum and glass enclosures that made it feel like you were gazing at rare art.

The bartender, a sleek, stone-faced man who looked like he’d stepped out of some high-end fashion catalog, didn’t need to ask what they wanted.

He already knew what Chloe took. He reached down, pulling out a bottle of Yuri’s No. 7, a vodka so expensive that the average person would think twice about the price of a single shot. He poured it in a glass, his movements deliberate and precise, as if every pour was an art form.

Chloe slid onto one of the plush bar stools, the leather creaking under her weight as she smiled over at Justin, that mischievous glint still in her eye. She lifted her drink, the glass catching the light just right, making it sparkle like a damn diamond.

"You ever had this stuff?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Justin shook his head. "Hell no. I don’t even think I’ve seen it outside of a magazine."

Chloe laughed softly, swirling the glass in her hand. "Most people haven’t. It’s not like you can just stroll in here and ask for a bottle. You gotta be someone—important—for that kind of access."

Justin chuckled, taking a sip of the drink she handed him. The warmth hit his throat like liquid fire, smooth and intoxicating. It felt like drinking straight luxury.

"This is... damn, this is good," he said, leaning back in his chair, suddenly feeling more alive in this surreal world. "But I gotta ask—how do you get into a place like this? What’s the catch?"

Chloe’s lips curved into a playful smirk as she swirled her drink again. "The catch? There’s always a catch, baby. But here, the only thing you need to worry about is the right connections. Black Rose is a hidden world, a world where only the top dogs come to play. You’re not just a VIP—you need to be someone with clout to even walk through that door."

She leaned in a little closer, voice dropping low. "But you know what? You’ve got the kind of vibe that might just fit in here. You don’t even know the half of what you’re capable of yet."

Justin couldn’t help but laugh. "Thanks? But... Damn, you talk like you own the place." He teased.

"In a way, I do," she winked. "But that’s a conversation for later. For now, enjoy the ride. The real fun hasn’t even started yet."

And with that, the mood shifted again. The weight of the conversation, the underlying tension between them, was building. Justin didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the surreal setting, or just the pull of Chloe’s energy, but he felt like he was about to step into a world he couldn’t even imagine. A world where the rules didn’t apply.

Hell, the world of Black Rose wasn’t just a hidden sanctuary—it was a playground for those who played God.

It was no longer just about what he had seen. It was about what was coming next. And Justin could feel the ride about to get a whole lot crazier.

But he had seen nothing of what the night had prepared for him!

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