Sebastian turned his head, studying his cousin more closely now. “No… I don’t suppose she does. Still, one has to wonder what your mother thinks of such a… striking shift in ambiance.”
There it is. The real game.
Gideon didn’t flinch. “Mother doesn’t run this club.”
“No,” Alex chimed in, sipping his drink. “But she knows how to clear a room when something—or someone—doesn’t serve her vision.”
Gideon’s stare held steady. “She’ll adjust.”
Sebastian hummed, then looked back at Arden again. Long enough for it to be noticed. “She’s handling it well, though. Surprising, really.”
That word. Surprising. It lingered too long in the air.
“Almost as if she was made for this world,” Alex added, tone laced with something smug and speculative. “Or maybe,” he mused, voice too smooth, “she’s smart enough to play the part.”
Sebastian’s tone dipped, quiet and precise. “Whichever it is, I have a feeling this will be interesting.”
Gideon’s voice dropped, low and cool. “Be careful who you watch too closely.”
The corners of his mouth held, but a glint beneath the surface betrayed something colder. Calculating. Coiled. “Always.”
Alex set his glass down, the sound soft but intentional.
“Don’t worry, little brother. We’re here to support you. Keep an eye on things. Isn’t that what family does?”
Neither moved as the implication landed between them like a slow-blooming threat.
Then, as if nothing had passed, Sebastian straightened his cuffs. “Well. Do let us know if she lives up to your expectations.”
“She already has,” Gideon replied.
Alex smirked, almost indulgent. “Then we’ll raise ours.”
They turned, retreating into the velvet hush of the lounge. Their presence lingered, heavy and unsettling.
Their interest?
That was just beginning.
Arden didn’t catchtheir final words, but she didn’t need to.
She saw it—the subtle clench in Gideon’s jaw.
The way his fingers flexed once against the polished bar before he forced a slow, weighted exhale.
A storm held in check by sheer will.
And she wasn’t the only one who noticed.
The room adjusted with elegant indifference—conversations dipping, then resuming with careful precision.
Even among the elite, instinct recognized gravity.
Marco, always tuned to the undercurrent, leaned slightly her way.
“You good?”
Arden offered a small, practiced smile. The kind that had smoothed plenty of rough edges back at Dot’s.
