“I prefer iconic,” Penny said, looping an arm around her, sequins catching the light like stardust. “And tonight? So are you. Let’s go be legendary.”
CHAPTER 50
The Weight of a Promise
The knock came as Penny vanished in a whirlwind of sequins and heels muttering about a “wardrobe emergency of epic proportions.”
Arden opened the door, and there he was. Gideon Blackwell, sharp lines and quiet intensity, stood at the edge of her world.
“You made it,” she said, voice even despite the way her heart thundered.
“I did,” he said, tone low and deliberate.
His eyes slowly swept over her. Taking her in. She caught the shift in his expression: the smallest flicker of something raw. His gaze paused, lower now. A slight clench in his jaw. The twitch of his fingers at his sides. He was trying not to reach for her.
She wore a burgundy top that was tailored elegance teetering on indecency. The sheer sleeves shimmered in the light, whispering secrets. Leather pants gripped her hips like they had no intention of letting go. Her stiletto boots added enough height to level the playing field.
He exhaled. Slow. Controlled. But not unaffected.
That tension in his hands? Still there.
“You did that on purpose,” he said, voice edged and rougher.
Arden lifted a brow. “What—got dressed?”
She played it off, but the gleam in her eyes gave her away.
That look on his face said it all. Dark. Dangerous. Knowing. “Dressed like that.”
She fought her own smile. “If I say yes, what does that get me?”
His eyes dipped, not just to her mouth, but everywhere. Down her body. Taking his time. Making her feel it.
“Trouble,” he said finally. Quiet. Certain. “A whole lot of trouble.”
The few inches between them felt combustible. Arden felt it, every glance like a touch dragging over her skin.
Her stomach dropped, dizzy and delicious.
She stepped aside, letting him in. Pretending not to feel the heat that radiated off him as he passed.
He moved into her apartment with the ease of a man who’d always belonged. In the low kitchen light, he looked even more dangerous—shoulders broad, presence coiled. Arden shut the door behind him and turned, watching the way his attention moved through the space. Everything about him shifted the gravity in the room.
His cologne trailed behind him.
Warm spice. Late-night temptation.
Unmistakably him.
Arden breathed him in before she could stop herself.
He didn’t say anything. Just let that smirk deepen.
“See?” he murmured. “Trouble.”
She brushed past him with a roll of her eyes, but the heat he left in his wake settled low in her spine, stubborn and slow to fade.
Gideon leaned against the counter; his eyes locked on her like she was the only thing that existed.
