The Miles High Club Novels & Stories

“I am Miles, the Delta of the Still Moon Pack.” That explained his aura. He was 6 feet tall with a lean build refined by countless years spent as a warrior and an enforcer. He had short, shiny black hair, a chiseled face, and tanned skin. “Thanks for lending a hand. You arrived just as we were losing out,” Miles said, though his expression was anything but thankful. He watched me guardedly, but I couldn’t understand why he was so wary. “I’m happy to help. A threat to one is a threat to all,” I said as my eyes strayed back to my mate.

Emerald Tower was the most famous exclusive private club in the metropolis. The seven-hundred meters tall building consisted of numerous tiny nightclubs on each level. The higher the level, the more prominent the guests it held. Surely with that concept, the top of the tower would only accept guests that came from the wealthiest families in the city, or at least those who had a net worth high enough to be called a billionaire.

My hips swayed in motion, my body pressed against the rose, my legs spread wide apart like an athlete. A soft murmuring spread across the room, I was in an earpiece on the left side so I couldn't pick the words easily but still I focused my undivided attention on my craft pouring my all into it. The Elite club 0.2 isn't just the regular clubs with VIP in attendance and a few men who just started touching funds. The club is meant for the old money kind of CEOs, the ones born and bred in wealth and affluence, the men who never had to chase anything all their life because all they needed to do was snap a finger and all they wanted would be set on a table before them.

“This Rhea—how’d you two meet?” The corner of my lips lifted slightly. “Hotel.” “So it’s safe to assume you’ve had sex with her?” “Yes.” I didn’t know why Maurice kept profiling my relationship life, but it distracted from the fact that Rhea hadn’t shown up at Blackridge for the past few days. Maurice’s chuckle echoed off the walls of the Vermont Club gym. Vermont was a private club for the elites. We’d both been members for more than six years now. It was our go-to place whenever we needed to blow off steam.

I put on some silver heels and headed out to meet Claudia at the Sky High Club, which was a trendy and upscale club known for its luxurious atmosphere and high-end clientele. As I walked in, I was immediately struck by the glitz and glamour of the place. The music was loud and the lights were flashing, creating an electric atmosphere that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Claudia was already there, sitting at the bar, sipping on a martini. "Hey!" she said, giving me a warm smile. "Hey," I replied, feeling a little out of place. "Don't worry. You look great," she said, giving me a reassuring smile.

"Alright guys, let's go wait for them downstairs." Jake led the way. An hour later, the group arrived at an upmarket club hosted at the top of a luxurious flat. Only the most influential, rich and famous people attended such an extraordinary club. The club was already packed when Jake and his friends arrived. A waitress greeted them and led them to a VIP table. The women were quick to sit next to their partners while Dohana chose to sit next to Miley London. On their way to the club, they had gotten pretty close. The waitress then took their order and left.

That same evening, the LED screen on the tallest building in Highridge lit up with a looping message: “Evelyn, will you be my girlfriend? A confession fifteen years in the making. Love, Miles.” The entire city saw it. The next three days were a full-on spectacle. Aside from the grand gesture of spending half a million a day on that billboard, Miles also lit up the beach with dazzling fireworks each night. Naturally, the internet had something to say. One viral comment summed it up best: “The rich always end up together. The rest of us? We just get front-row seats.”

Mission impossible! According to rumours, the only way to get a membership into Gemstone is by being one of the top billionaires in the country! Her family wasn't close to that. “Shall we?” Dante asked, leading the way He led her through the magnificence building that was over twenty stories tall with over a hundred different clubs to partake in. Dante kept pushing forward, heading towards the MVP section. Even this luxurious club had its MVP section, reserved for the top three wealthy ones in the country.

"Ma'am, the system does show Ms. Gilmore's name." Raine let out a shrill burst of laughter and looked at me triumphantly. "Stumped, aren't you? Let me tell you, this is an internal family ticket my husband bought for me! My husband is the captain of this very plane, Klaus Peterson! "I was just showing you some courtesy earlier by not exposing you for occupying someone else's seat. Now that you've brought this on yourself, I'll oblige." She deliberately raised her voice, ensuring everyone in the first-class cabin could hear.

Scar The Oak Club is the most exclusive invitation-only club on the planet. More exclusive than Bohemian Grove. More exclusive than the nuclear bunkers under the White House. It sits at the end of a long, private driveway, hidden behind high concrete walls lined with crushed glass and dotted by security cameras. Men in dark suits wander the scrubby grounds between the public world and the private oasis beyond. The scrubland gives way to a gorgeous ocean of green grass, shrubs, flowers, and trees, with the club itself in the center of all that gorgeously manicured plant life.