“Did she get to school okay this morning?” he pushes.
“How is that any of your business?” I say, the huskiness under the question betraying his effect on me. I step toward the door. “I have locks to check.”
His body shifts, blocking my path without touching me, and the air between us crackles with dangerous electricity.
I lift my chin. “Are you going to stop me from leaving?”
A dangerous thrill shoots through me, and slick dampens my underwear, the scent rising between us before I can stop it.
Rowan shifts to leave a narrow gap, and he stares at me in challenge. Our bodies brush as I slip past, and electricity arcs between us. Unable to resist, I pause, relishing the heat of his body after too manynights of sleeping alone. I want him to grab me, force me against the wall, and reclaim what’s his.
“Run all you want,” he rumbles, his fingers grazing my arm with deceptive gentleness, “you’re still mine whether you admit it or not.”
I bolt from the room before I can shatter completely.
The next four hours become a dangerous dance.
As I adjust a camera in the VIP section, the hair on the back of my neck rises. Rowan stands in the doorway, tracking my movements, and heat floods my system.
I retreat to the storage room, only to find him there minutes later, inspecting the liquor inventory despite that being Ghost’s job.
We circle each other through the club, me testing an alarm panel, him appearing to check the adjacent wall safe. Never touching, never speaking, but the air between us crackling with awareness. Behind the bar, Orien nudges Ghost, both watching with undisguised interest as I duck into the hallway, Rowan’s scent following me like a physical touch.
At a quarter past noon, the intercom crackles tolife, Rowan’s voice filling every corner of the Blue Note. “The lounge is closed for the remainder of the afternoon. All staff are dismissed.”
Confusion ripples through the room, and no one moves. Except for rare, controlled events like my welcome into the crew, the Blue Note never closes.
Not like this.
“Effective immediately,” Rowan adds, brooking no argument.
Chairs scrape over hardwood floors. Glasses clink as they’re put away. Everyone moves with the efficiency of people who know better than to question direct orders, gathering personal items and signing out at the terminal.
I join the exodus, grabbing my jacket from the back room. I didn’t get everything on my list completed, but I get paid whether I stay until the end of the shift or not. I can use the extra hours to check out apartments.
My fingers brush the door handle as Rowan’s command freezes me in place. “Not you.”
I turn, my spine straightening. “You told everyone to go home.”
“You’re not finished here,” he says in a timbre that bypasses my brain and liquefies my ability to reason.
The heavy door thuds shut behind the last employee, and Rowan stalks to theentrance to slide the key into the lock, the click jolting through my system.
We stand alone in the empty bar, the distance between us charged with desire. His amber eyes track me, cataloging every micro expression, every hitched breath. Sunlight slices through tinted windows, illuminating dust motes that dance between us. I plant my feet on the polished floor, refusing to back away as his pheromones invade my senses, demanding submission I won’t give.
“Why are you treating me like a stranger?” His question hangs in the still air.
“Because that’s what employees do with their boss.” The words come out flat, stripped of emotion.
Rowan takes a step forward, then another, moving with the fluid grace of a predator confident in his territory. “Is that what we are now?”
“You made your position clear enough.” My chin lifts, pride warring with the magnetic pull of his presence.
“You’re running.” Another step closer. “Again.”
“You’re controlling.” I hold my ground, refusing to yield even as my knees tremble. “Still.”
His scent shifts, warming as his pheromones respond to our proximity. My pulse quickens, skinflushing with heat that has nothing to do with the temperature of the room.
