Veneer X Ritz Novels & Stories

He held my hand throughout the car ride till we got to the restaurant and we both went in. Given the popularity of the Ritz Coltera among the elites of the country, I had expected it to be lively and occupied by some of the city's top figures, but it was surprisingly…empty. “Are they closed already?” I whispered under my breath, prompting Axel to Chuckle. “I booked the entire place.” He did what? The Ritz Coltera? Dorian and I always struggled to get a reservation no matter how much we were offering and Axel just easily booked the whole place?

Being one splendid, expensive aspect of this splendid, expensive world. “It’s surreal, I’ll give you that,” Raven added, a bit carefully now around the buzz of her third mimosa. “But it’s also incredible. Like, you should see this guy’s penthouse, Tatum. It’s something else. And he buys clothes literally off the runway. This one dress—” “Hold up, hold up.” Tatum raised a hand to stop her. “You’ve seen his penthouse? Raven, you’re not…” Raven shrugged. “Isn’t it my choice who I sleep with?”

Plush velvet chairs dotted the space, polished tables stacked with vases of fresh flowers. Moonveil pack members lounged about casually, dragging silver-trimmed suitcases behind them or laughing in groups. They looked so at home here, their laughter echoing against the high ceilings, their expensive clothes gleaming in the light. Serena smirked at me without looking. “Pretty, isn’t it? Allies of Ravencrest deserve nothing less. Meanwhile, you and your little friends get to rot in your… what do you even call those rooms again? Oh right. Kennels.”

"Yes, sir. This way, please." In the courtyard, the group's expressions grew increasingly peculiar. "Zenith Pavilion? Sasha, I must say, this guy's acting skills are rather impressive. From renting a Rolls-Royce Phantom to now this, I have to admit that it's almost admirable," Ruth couldn't help but remark. Her comment made sense because each villa in this clubhouse had its own name. Zenith Pavilion, being the most extravagant of the lot, didn't really go by the reservation system. It typically only hosted the real big shots.

However, there was a clear line drawn when it came to Venita. I chose this high-end boutique, Chic Couture Château, for a specific reason. It exuded luxury and class, offering the very best in the city. I had first discovered this place with Mirage, though she never witnessed the experience as she should have. Now, I was thrilled to have Venita join me in this exquisite environment.

“You’re strong enough to survive every tempest.” “Aiden!” my manager barks. “Room 7, VVIP wing. Don’t screw this up.” VVIP is for the elites. Bastardly wealthy. “Yes, sir.” I grab the tray with trembling hands. On it had our top luxury wine - Domaine de la Romanee Conti, crystal glasses, everything polished. I steadied it before pushing open the door. The private suite smells of oak and candle wax. The light is golden. The furniture and setting screamed luxury. Soft jazz floats from hidden speakers.

By 11:32 PM, we were finally ready, and the night was just beginning. Velvet Rush is an exclusive club for the city's young and wealthy folks. It is known for its extravagant parties, especially on weekends like this. You will find the most fashionable, adventurous, and influential young men and ladies gathered here to let loose. It’s captivating velvet-draped interiors, neon lights, and world-class DJs, and an ultimate spot to dance, drink, and network in style.

The polite, charming tone was completely gone, replaced by a cold, sharp edge. Hazel’s blood turned entirely to ice. Her fingers tightened around her clutch. "I'm sorry, I don't understand—" "The dress," Victoria interrupted, turning her head to look directly at Hazel. Her eyes swept over the heavy green silk with an incredibly sharp, assessing gaze. "It's an Alexander McQueen custom. The beadwork on the bodice is hand-stitched. It retails for roughly thirty-five thousand dollars. Xavier put it on the Vanguard corporate black card on Tuesday afternoon. Executive secretaries do not wear custom McQueen to take notes."

If he sensed even a flicker of inauthenticity, the entire multi-billion-dollar deal would collapse. ​Vennessa stood in front of the full-length mirror in her penthouse bedroom, adjusting the zipper of her emerald silk dress. The fabric clung to her curves, the deep jewel tone making her eyes pop, but her hands were ice-cold. ​A sharp knock rattled her door. ​"Enter," she said, taking a stabilizing breath. ​Ryan walked in, and Vennessa’s breath caught in her throat. He was wearing a classic black tuxedo. The crisp white shirt and the sharp silk tie highlighted the rugged, striking angles of his face. He looked devastatingly handsome, an absolute alpha of the corporate world.

Her carefully laid plans. She didn't know where she was going until she saw the familiar black awning at the end of East 57th Street. Velvet & Glass. The kind of boutique where everything was hand-stitched in European ateliers, where price tags were hidden like state secrets, and where sales associates spoke in hushed tones about "investment pieces." The boutique's interior was marble and crystal, all soft lighting and expensive perfume. Rachel wandered between the racks, fingering fabrics she couldn't buy.