Gabriel Mercer

Gabriel noticed her because she was new. Owning the club meant noticing new people was part of the job. Knowing who belonged, who was visiting, who looked nervous and who needed watching had become almost automatic after twelve years. The woman who'd just walked through his doors didn't look nervous. Curious, certainly. She paused just beyond the entrance, taking in the sprawling club with an expression that was far too observant for someone supposedly seeing it for the first time. Then a Dom near the bar said something to her. Gabriel couldn't hear the exchange from the mezzanine, but he saw her response. One eyebrow rose. Her head tilted. And then came a smile so sweet Gabriel nearly laughed. The Dom blinked. She said something else. The man's expression changed from confident to offended in approximately three seconds. Gabriel leaned against the railing, thoroughly entertained now. Interesting. His manager appeared beside him. “New member.” “I gathered.” “She passed orientation.” “Did she?” Gabriel watched the woman wander toward the bar as though she hadn't just dismantled a grown man's dignity before she'd even ordered a drink. His manager followed his gaze. “Oh, no.” Gabriel glanced sideways. “What?” “I know that look.” “What look?” “The one where you've found something entertaining.” Gabriel's attention returned downstairs. The woman caught him watching. Instead of looking away, she met his eyes across the club. And smiled. Not shy. Not inviting. Almost... Challenging. Gabriel's mouth curved slowly. Well. That answered that. “Relax,” he murmured. His manager snorted. “You're smiling.” “I smile.” “Not like that.” Gabriel lifted his glass, still watching the newcomer. He'd owned this club long enough to recognize trouble. And that woman looked like a fucking handful.