She arched a brow, amused. “No promises.”
Her voice trailed him like slow smoke. Thick. Lingering. Inevitable. So did her presence.
Gideon watched from across the room as she handled the crowd, commanding the bar with easy poise, deflecting arrogance with sharp wit, making even the most powerful men adjust to her rhythm.
When the rush finally slowed, their eyes met again across the space. He lifted his glass slightly. Not a toast. A signal. Of what, neither of them could say. But it landed like a vow neither of them had spoken.
Gideon had sensedher the moment she entered the club. She moved through his domain like flame meeting oxygen, slipping into its shadows, illuminating corners he hadn’t realized were dark.
That same quick, decisive grace in her movements behind the bar. The faint tilt of her chin as she took everything in, as if she were reading the room’s energy and already adjusting to it.
Confidence. Not performed, but earned. Quiet, unwavering. Real.
From his office above, he watched through the one-way glass as Marco walked her through the setup. She didn’t miss a thing. Her focus was surgical, precise. Each glance registered more than most people noticed in an hour.
That same sharp intelligence he remembered from Dot’s. Only now, standing in the middle of his world, it dialed to a level far more dangerous. But it wasn’t her competence that held him.
It was how she occupied space. How her presence felt effortless. She didn’t demand attention. She commanded it. And she made no apologies.
He ignored the bourbon on his desk. His focus was gone.
From up here, he could watch her interactions unfold like a game of strategy.
Except Arden didn’t play games. She dismantled them.
When Harrison Palmer leaned in from table six, testing her—as he always did with new staff—Gideon caught the twitch of her mouth. Not quite a smirk. A flicker ofamusement.
“Having trouble deciding?” she asked, voice calm but edged with challenge. “I could suggest something more adventurous than your usual gin and tonic. Unless you’re not up for it?”
Harrison barked a surprised laugh and waved her on.
She didn’t just win. She rewrote the rules. Turned the provocation into performance… and won.
And Gideon felt the unwelcome, but undeniable, pull in his chest.
She didn’t adapt to his world. She rewrote it.
He told himself bringing her here had been a mistake. That it was a risk.
To the club.
To the distance he kept.
To his own control.
And before the thought finished forming, he was rising. Already moving.
Drawn toward the bar by something he refused to name.
The spark in her eyes as she worked. The rhythm in her movements.
The way she met power wasn’t with reverence, but with curiosity. As though she was sizing it up.
He crossed the floor, and when she spotted him, her gaze didn’t waver.
“Otherwise, you wouldn’t be testing how professional I can be.”
He hadn’t expected her to say it out loud.
