Not everyone’s attention is harmless.No shit.
He flicked open his phone. Called Christian.
“I need eyes on every camera at the club. Someone left a package behind the bar. Wrapped. No name. Between eight and eleven.”
“Think it was delivered in person?”
“If it was, I want a face.”
He hung up. Texted Leo.
Heads up. Cross-check all entries and deliveries from 8 to 11. Targeting Arden. Someone’s getting bold.
Leo: Done.
Someone had gotten close. Too close.
Which meant they were inside the perimeter.
He exhaled slow. Found his center. Control. Focus. Precision.
They’d made a move.
Now it was his turn.
The restof the night crawled forward, taut and stretched.
Glances lingered too long. Smiles felt rehearsed.
Something was testing her. Watching to see where her armor cracked.
The usual soundtrack of clinking glass and soft flirtation warped at the edges.
When the last patron left, Marco stepped from the back hallway.
Even he looked different.
He nodded at the box beneath the bar.
“Quite the admirer you’ve got.” His tone was light. Too light. But the warning under it wasn’t. “In this place, even gifts come with price tags.”
Arden scrubbed the counter with unnecessary precision. “Tell me about it.”
Marco leaned in. “Seriously. If the vibe turns, if the air shifts, trust it.” His gaze dropped to the gift again. Jaw tight. “This crowd doesn’t deal in accidents. Everything’s intentional. Games are their native tongue. And they don’t play to lose.”
She nodded once. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
The lights buzzed out, one by one.
Marco disappeared to finish closing, but Arden didn’t move.
The box remained under the bar. Elegant. Unsettling.
A velvet-wrapped dare.
It wasn’t the tea.
Not the syrup.
