“Yeah.”
But her gaze drifted inevitably toward the office door upstairs, slightly ajar.
Like an unfinished sentence.
Whatever had unfolded tonight wasn’t over.
Not even close.
She navigated the room,fire wrapped in silk,
measured, unaware of her own captivation.
He lingered at his usual vantage point, quiet in the dark, content to observe.
In the past few weeks,she’d changed.
More assured.
More attuned to the subtle currents of power beneath the club’s opulence.
He’d memorized the way her hands moved behind the bar.
She destroyedarrogance with a smile that never quite reached her eyes.
The way she never let themsee her flinch.
She belonged nowhere and everywhere.
A force the world mistook for decoration, unaware of the storm she carried.
They saw her.
But not like he did.
Never like he did
His fingers hovered over his phone, the message already typed.
“Starting over doesn’t erase the past.”
Not a threat.
Not a warning.
A truth.
The moment it reached her,he saw it.
The subtle flicker behind her eyes, the breath caught just short.
The towel slipped from her hands.
She scanned the room.
But she wouldn’t find him.
Not yet.
