The Seaport club was a sensory overload of neon lights, the heavy pulse of bass, and the scent of expensive perfume and sweat. While the lineup stretched around the block, the doorman’s eyes widened the moment Killian approached. With a respectful nod, he pulled the velvet rope aside, ushering them through. Killian shook his hand, seamlessly sliding several hundred dollars into the man’s palm without breaking his stride.
Inside, the crowd was a sea of moving bodies. Killian didn't give anyone an inch; he held Raya’s hand in a crushing grip, his body acting as a human shield as he navigated her through the press of people. He led them up the glass staircase to a private, velvet-lined booth that overlooked the entire churning dance floor like a royal box.
As soon as they sat, a waitress ap
