When they reached the club, Darren climbed out first, his expression schooled back into composure—or close enough. The dim light from the club's recessed entry caught the faint tension in his jaw, and a sliver of harsh sunlight from a crack in the door cut a sharp line across his cheek as he stepped inside. Normally, he thrived here—among the hum of luxury and control, where everything moved to his rhythm.
But today, something in him refused to settle.
A restless pulse coiled beneath his skin, thrumming like a warning he didn't understand. The memory of her still clung to him—the click of her heels, the way her skirt hugged her hips, the defiance in her eyes when she'd said no.
