21. The Art of Presence

When he stepped into the VIP lounge, all eyes instinctively turned toward him.

Rowan was dressed in his usual dark, fitted attire—sleek, refined, with an effortless air of confidence.

----

A bit earlier downstairs, Silas had pulled Rowan aside.

"As I told you earlier, forget the regulars tonight," Silas instructed. "You're handling the VIPs."

Rowan nodded without hesitation.

He was the best at what he did, and Silas knew it.

No one could match Rowan's ability to engage, charm, and read a room. 

So without further words, Rowan carefully selected a range of high-end liquors, aged spirits, and top-shelf cocktails before carrying them upstairs.

----

The lounge's dim golden light cast shadows along his sharp jawline and the subtle definition of his features.

But most notably, it was his presence that filled the room.

Calm. Collected. Completely unshaken.

He set the drinks down smoothly.

"Good evening," Rowan greeted, his voice deep yet easy-going. "I'll be handling your drinks tonight. Let me know what you'd like, and I'll make sure it's nothing less than perfect."

For the first time that night, Selene was the one who found herself observing someone.

Her steel-blue eyes flickered over Rowan in an instant. She took in the way he moved, the way he spoke, the aura he carried. Then, without hesitation, she began to access him.

Mila's eyes widened, already feeling the creepy feeling welling up into her chest.

Rowan, unfazed, merely arched an eyebrow.

Selene tapped her finger twice and began scoring him. And unlike with Mila, her ratings were shockingly high.

"Aura: 9.5/10! Composure: 9.5/10! Appearance: 10/10!"

She paused, then clicked her tongue.

"Interesting," She murmured under her breath, looking at Rowan as if he were a puzzle she suddenly wanted to solve.

Rowan, however, simply gave her a slow, knowing smirk.

Unbothered and Unreadable.

Then, he turned to the group.

"What can I get for you all tonight?" Rowan asked smoothly, his voice rich with quiet confidence.

The group exchanged glances before Samir leaned back with an easy grin. "Alright, let's see what you've got, bartender extraordinaire."

He tapped his chin theatrically before flashing Rowan a playful smirk. "I'll take an Old Fashioned—make it strong, but smooth. Let's see if you can impress me."

Rowan gave a small, knowing smile. "Consider it done."

He then turned his attention to the others.

Loraine, who had been observing the exchange with mild amusement, elegantly crossed one leg over the other. "A French 75 for me. Something light, but refined."

Selene barely hesitated. "Negroni. Keep it classic."

Her tone was crisp, expectant as if she were testing him.

Monica, the red-haired beauty, smirked, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. "Something bold. I'll take a Manhattan—extra cherry."

Natalie, the quiet one, adjusted her glasses slightly before speaking. "Uhm… just a whiskey sour, please."

Rowan nodded smoothly, already committing the orders to memory.

"Good choices," He said as he rolled up the sleeves of his dark dress shirt, revealing strong forearms that did not go unnoticed by a few in the room.

With effortless grace, he moved to the private bar in the lounge, his hands moving with practiced ease.

He started with Samir's Old Fashioned—dropping a sugar cube into a chilled glass, soaking it with a few dashes of bitters before muddling it just enough. A large, clear ice cube followed, clinking softly against the glass as he poured a precise measure of premium bourbon over it. With a quick stir, a swath of orange peel expertly expressed over the surface, and a single Luxardo cherry placed with care.

Next, Loraine's French 75—he took a chilled coupe glass and measured out a blend of gin, fresh lemon juice, and simple syrup, shaking it vigorously before straining the crisp golden liquid. Topping it with chilled champagne, he garnished it with a delicate lemon twist, ensuring an elegant presentation fitting for her refined taste.

Moving onto Selene's Negroni, he poured equal parts gin, Campari, and sweet vermouth over ice, stirring with measured precision. He strained the deep ruby-red drink into a rock glass over a single large ice cube, garnishing it with a perfectly cut orange peel.

For Monica's Manhattan, he took his time, stirring a blend of rye whiskey, sweet vermouth, and a dash of bitters until it reached the perfect temperature. He strained the deep amber liquid into a chilled coupe glass, dropping in an extra cherry just as she'd requested, flashing her a knowing smirk when he caught her watching.

Finally, he prepared Natalie's Whiskey Sour, carefully measuring bourbon, fresh lemon juice, and simple syrup into a shaker. A single egg white followed, and he dry-shook it first to create the signature velvety texture before adding ice and shaking again. He strained the frothy golden liquid into a chilled glass, garnishing it with a few drops of aromatic bitters in an elegant swirl.

In mere minutes, Rowan had lined up the drinks on a polished silver tray, each one flawless.

With practiced ease, he moved through the lounge, serving each guest their drink with a subtle, confident smile.

Samir took a slow sip of his Old Fashioned, nodding in appreciation. "Damn. Alright, I'll admit it—this is smooth as hell."

Loraine lifted her French 75 with a graceful hand, taking a delicate sip before offering an approving nod. "Well-balanced."

Selene swirled her Negroni, studying the deep red hue before tasting it. Her expression remained unreadable, but Rowan caught the flicker of mild satisfaction before she set her glass down.

Monica took a sip of her Manhattan, letting out a low hum of approval.

"I like a man who can deliver," She teased, winking at Rowan.

Natalie, though quiet, seemed pleasantly surprised as she took a sip of her Whiskey Sour. She adjusted her glasses, looking at Rowan with a hint of newfound interest.

"This is… really good," She admitted softly.

Rowan simply gave a small, knowing smile. "That's the goal."

Mila, who had been watching with a smirk of her own, leaned against the bar, eyes twinkling. "Rowan's the best at what he does."

Samir chuckled, raising his glass in a toast. "Alright, I'll give it to you. You've got skill."

Rowan simply inclined his head, unbothered by the praise. "Enjoy your drinks."

They continued with some small talks, keeping the flow going.

Samir leaned back against the plush seating, watching Rowan with a mix of intrigue and curiosity.

"You're pretty damn smooth at this," He remarked, his lips curling into a lopsided grin. "But honestly, man, why are you here? You've got the looks, the presence… hell, you could be doing something bigger."

Selene, who had been sipping her wine in contemplative silence, finally spoke up, her sharp steel-blue eyes locking onto Rowan. "Samir's right. With your face, you could be modeling for any major brand. Why waste it here?"

Rowan barely flinched at their words. He set a drink down in front of Loraine with practiced ease before responding, his voice as composed as ever.

"I don't see it as a waste," He said lightly. "I enjoy what I do. Greed ruins satisfaction, and I have everything I need."

Samir scoffed, though there was no malice behind it, just genuine disbelief. "So you're telling me you've never thought about doing something more?"

Rowan's lips quirked in a faint, knowing smile. "It's not like I do nothing all day. I'm a gym trainer in the mornings, and I coach at the high school nearby."

That seemed to catch some of them off guard.

"A coach?" Loraine tilted her head, intrigued.

"Yeah. Keeps me on my toes," Rowan said simply, adjusting the tray in his hand.

Samir chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn, and here I thought you were just some smooth bartender with a mysterious vibe. Turns out, you're a whole mentor type."

Most of them seemed to accept his reasoning, offering nods or small smiles, well, except Selene. She remained unimpressed, swirling the wine in her glass before speaking. "A man should be ambitious. If you're content with too little, you'll never grow."

Rowan met her gaze evenly, offering nothing but a light smile. "Not everyone measures growth the same way."

Before the conversation could turn into a debate, Mila, ever the social butterfly, chimed in with a playful grin. "Rowan might not seem like it, but he's the best at what he does. He can get anyone to open up and spill their heart out."

Samir smirked, raising a brow. "That so?"

"Absolutely." Mila giggled, nudging Rowan slightly. "He's the reason we have so many regulars. Especially the women."

Rowan merely shook his head with amusement, but before he could respond, his gaze flickered toward the woman with glasses who had been sitting quietly, looking somewhat detached from the conversation.

What was her name again? Ah... it is Natalie!

He picked up on it instantly.

Turning toward her, he set a fresh drink down in front of her and leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like a private exchange.

"You don't seem to be enjoying yourself," He observed smoothly, his tone light yet inviting.

Natalie blinked, caught off guard, but the warmth in Rowan's expression made it hard to brush him off.

"Oh, I—" She hesitated, then let out a small chuckle. "I guess I'm just not used to these kinds of nights."

Rowan smiled, casual and reassuring. "Well, that's what I'm here for. To make sure everyone has a good time."

Something in the way he said it—natural, effortless—made Natalie relax a little.

The conversation shifted, and soon enough, she was speaking more, engaging with Rowan in a way she hadn't before.

Watching from the side, the red-haired beauty, Monica, sipped her drink and smirked.

"Now that's impressive," She murmured.

Mila turned toward her, amused. "What is?"

Monica nodded toward Rowan, watching how easily he got Natalie to open up. "Getting Natalie to talk that easily. He's either got some secret magic, or he's just a damn good player."

Mila giggled, giving Rowan a knowing glance. "Oh, trust me. He's got his ways. Might not look it, but he's dangerous like that."

Samir, overhearing, laughed. "So he's a charmer and a coach. Man of many talents."

Rowan merely shook his head with a small smile, refocusing on the group. He wasn't trying to impress anyone—he just knew how to read people.