Arden blinked, startled, but a laugh escaped anyway. Light. Unguarded. “Pen… I haven’t even told you how it went.”
“Please,” Penny said, popping the cork on a bottle she must’ve had chilling for hours. “I saw that walk. That was not an ‘I hope it worked out’ walk. That was a ‘bow before me, peasants’ walk.”
She twirled dramatically, eyes gleaming. “Now spill. Tell me everything. What was he like?”
Arden unwound her scarf, fingers careful, buying time. “He was…” The words stalled in her throat.
Complicated? No.
Intense? Not quite.
Something else.
“Actually… not so different from the first time I met him.”
Penny froze mid-pour. Her head snapped around. “I’m sorry… what.”
Arden winced. “I said?—”
“I heard you.” Penny’s voice jumped an octave. “You’ve met Gideon Blackwell? And this is the first I’m hearing of it?”
“It wasn’t relevant!” Arden tossed the scarf onto a chair.
Penny looked personally offended on behalf of all gossips everywhere. “Not relevant? You met Manhattan’s brooding monarch of mystery and forgot to mention it? Sit down. You’re not getting out of this with vague hand gestures and a cupcake.”
Arden rolled her eyes but let herself be herded toward the couch. Two flutes were waiting.
She grabbed a cupcake, peeling back the wrapper. “He came into Dot’s one night. Ordered bourbon. Said I was wasting my talent. Left a card.”
Penny narrowed her eyes. Her voice dropped low and sultry. “‘He came into Dot’s’ is the first line of a romance novel. And you’re telling me it wasn’t a big deal?”
“It wasn’t,” Arden muttered, ears burning. The memory resurfaced. Clearer now.
That stare. The way he watched, calm and sharp all at once. Like he saw straight through her, and she was two moves ahead.
“So?” Penny prompted, her smirk teasing. “Is he all broody billionaire and panty-dropping charm?”
Arden picked at the edge of her wrapper. “Well, you could say that.”
“But?” Penny’s voice dropped, curious now. Expectant.
Arden paused. “There’s… something in his eyes. The way he looks at you. Like he’s studying you, but not in the obvious way. Like he’s sizing you up, deciding if he wants to tear you apart or let you keep your secrets.”
Penny made a noise that was part gasp, part gleeful screech. “Oh my God. You are so gone.”
“I’m not,” Arden said quickly. Too quickly.
“You absolutely are,” Penny declared, raising her glass like a toast to fate. “To Mr. Blackwell and the spicy subplot I didn’t see coming.”
Arden groaned, but tapped her flute against Penny’s anyway. “To new beginnings,” she muttered.
Penny’s grin softened. “And to that glow you’re pretending isn’t there. Whatever this is? I have a feeling it’s just getting started.”
She entered like wildfire.Uncontainable. Inevitable. Fierce.
She had no idea—someone had felt her presence before she even brushed past. Felt the subtle ripple that moved through the air—invisible, electric, altering everything in its wake.
The club was a carefully controlled sanctuary. A private stage crafted for the powerful.
