The heavy glass doors of VIP Box Six glided open smoothly, allowing Jake's group to exit into the private carpeted corridor of the upper deck. Behind them, the lower hall of the mega-yacht was still buzzing like a stirred hornet's nest. Bidders and high-society elites were huddled in animated groups, their eyes repeatedly darting up toward the elevated VIP suite, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of the individual who had casually dropped nine figures on a single hypercar.
"Look at them down there," Leon chuckled, leaning over the brass railing as they walked toward the private elevator. "Half the room is on their phones right now trying to run background checks on VIP Box Six. By midnight, every financial intelligence agency in Western Europe is going to be trying to figure out who has that kind of disposable liquidity."
"Let them search," Adrian said dryly, adjusting his cuffs. "It keeps them busy."
