Her grin was quick, cutting. “Careful. I’ve got a habit of spotting the cracks people think they’re hiding.”
Marco smirked. “Then you’ll fit right in.”
Histone shifted. Softened. She didn’t have to look to know what caused it. The hum in the air. The shift in attention.
He was here.
Her pulse kicked once in her throat.
Gideon.
He moved through the club like it belonged to him. It did. But it wasn’t ownership that set him apart. It was the gravity.
His eyes locked onto hers.
She didn’t flinch.
“I see Marco’s showing you the ropes,” he said, voice low, smooth. Testing.
“More like confirming I know how to use them.” The words landed with quiet confidence. No deference. No flirtation. Just truth.
His mouth curved slightly. His mouth curved slightly. Not quite a smile. Something heavier. More dangerous. “Confident as ever.”
“Let’s not act like that wasn’t part of the job description.” She reached for the Blanton’s, pouring without looking away. He didn’t ask, but she poured anyway.
The acknowledgment stirred something low in him. Not just attraction. Something darker. Possessive. Primal.
“Still trying to figure out what this is,” she said, sliding the glass across the bar.
Gideon sat without a word, gaze steady, calculating. Marco, always one step ahead, slipped away with a knowing nod, giving them space. “And what do you think it’s about?”
“I think it’s what happens when someone stops pretending the rules apply.”
His brow lifted, intrigued. “The usual rules don’t apply here.”
“Clearly,” she said, folding a napkin with precision. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be testing my professionalism if you didn’t already know I had it.”
His laugh was low, surprised. Unguarded.
A few patrons turned, startled by the sound. Arden didn’t acknowledge it.
“Is that what I’m doing?”
“Among other things.” She didn’t look away. Didn’t soften the edge in her tone. “But we both know I don’t rattle easily.”
His gaze darkened, curious, sharp. Heat flared beneath the surface of his composure. “No,” he said, voice dipped in something dangerous. “You don’t.”
The air between them pulsed. Electric. Unspoken. Tethered to something neither of them could name.
Then someone at a nearby table laughed too loudly, and the spell broke. Arden straightened, the bartender persona sliding back into place, but her eyes still carried the spark.
“You should mingle,” she said coolly, nodding toward the VIPs. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re playing favorites…”
His smirk deepened. “Wouldn’t we?”
She rolled her eyes, turning back to the bar. “Some of us have a job to do.”
He stood with deliberate grace, smoothing his cuffs. “Try not to dismantle the social hierarchy on your first night,” he said, already moving. “Some of them aren’t ready for your kind of honesty.”
