A spark in her gaze—relief, recognition, and something deeper.
Connection. It settled between them like a current.
And then Alex turned too, tracking Gideon’s line of sight.
His posture shifted, not much. But enough.
The smirk faltered. Barely. Briefly.
Then returned, smooth and deliberate, like it had never left.
Gideon moved forward, every step measured. Controlled. But his intent pulsed through the room.
He didn’t look at anyone else. Didn’t break stride.
Just closed the space between them with surgical precision.
“Alex.” His voice was calm. Even. But it held weight. “I wasn’t aware you were still in the building.”
Alex turned fully, lifting his glass with lazy arrogance. “Just catching up with your staff,” he said, his smile easy. “Miss Rivers is quite the conversationalist. Smart. Interesting. Very… compelling.”
His eyes dragged toward Arden again, blatant and assessing.
Gideon stepped between them, silent and absolute.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t showy. It was final.
His presence a wall of silent fury. Impenetrable.
“She is,” Gideon said, his voice perfectly level. “And she has work to do.”
He didn’t look at Arden, but the message was clear.
Not a command—a lifeline.
She caught it instantly.
“Always,” she replied, cool as glass, her voice level despite the clear discomfort.
But when her gaze flicked toward him; it said everything she couldn’t out loud.
She turned and walked away without looking back, each step deliberate, composed. She didn’t rush. She didn’t stumble.
But she didn’t spare Alex another glance.
And that was what made Gideon’s blood run colder than anything else.
Because Alex had seen it, too.
The way she looked at Gideon. Their connection didn’t need words.
As soon as she was gone, Gideon leaned in, just slightly. Just enough.
“Stay away from her.” His voice was calm, but held a whisper of violence.
Alex chuckled low in his throat, swirling his drink. “Awfully protective of a bartender, little brother.”
Gideon didn’t blink. “You know damn well she’s notjusta bartender.”
