22. A Group of Wolves

Rowan continued to serve the drinks, keeping the guests entertained while making sure their drinks remained full and their interest unbroken.

Selene leaned back in her seat, swirling the last of her Negroni as she watched Rowan with a calculating expression.

"You know," She mused, "for a bartender, you seem unusually perceptive. Tell me—what kind of clientele does this place usually attract?"

Samir, lounging beside her, smirked and picked up where she left off. "Yeah, I've been wondering that too. What kind of people roll through here every night? Regular business types? Or do things get… interesting?"

Rowan set a fresh glass in front of Natalie, who had been quietly nursing her drink, before answering smoothly. "It's a mix, really. We get our fair share of some high-profile guests—business moguls and even a few government officials now and then. But the majority? Youngsters and college students looking for entertainment, enjoyment, or just an escape from their lives."

Mila nodded in agreement, her expression warm but professional. "And, of course, there are the usual partygoers. Young, rich, reckless. They throw money around, drink top-shelf liquor like it's water, and cause a scene if things don't go their way."

She let out a small chuckle. "It keeps things… eventful, to say the least."

Samir grinned. "Sounds about right. Any troublemakers?"

Rowan exhaled lightly, tilting his head. "Sometimes. We have Bob and Mike to handle most of it, but the real issue isn't the occasional drunk customer—it's the gangs in the vicinity."

Selene's interest sharpened. "Gangs?"

Rowan leaned against the counter, his voice even. "You might've noticed, but this club sits in a sweet spot—good location, high-end crowd. Naturally, that makes it attractive to certain groups who'd love to sink their claws into it. They come from time to time to cause trouble... Sometimes the two gangs even clashed with each other in the club."

His gaze flickered briefly and he continued. "Our boss tries his best to keep things in check, but trouble still flares up from time to time."

Selene's expression remained unreadable, but her fingers tapped lightly against her glass, thoughtfully. "And you think our investment would keep those gangs in check?"

Rowan's smile was small but knowing. "More than just an investment. The moment word spreads that the Black Order's leader has a stake in this place, every gang around will think twice before stirring up trouble."

A beat of silence passed. Then Samir let out a low whistle, impressed. "Damn, man. It seems it's not only your mouth that is sharp. You have a good head on your shoulders too"

Selene nodded slightly, her gaze lingering on Rowan for a second longer than necessary. "You're sharp. Not many would pick up on those things unless they knew how to read people."

Rowan only offered a light shrug, downplaying the compliment. "It's just part of the job."

Before the conversation could continue, Loraine stood, smoothing out her dress.

"Excuse me for a moment," She said, directing her words to Mila. "Where's the washroom?"

Mila immediately straightened. "I can show you—"

Loraine chuckled, shaking her head. "Mila, I'm not a child. Just point me in the right direction."

Mila hesitated, then sighed. "Down the hall, third door on the left."

Loraine gave a small wave before stepping away.

Rowan seamlessly picked up where they had left off, keeping the conversation flowing without so much as a hiccup.

Mila glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a hint of admiration flickering across her face.

Some people were good at talking.

But Rowan?

He was good at holding people's attention.

Samir, always quick to recognize talent, grinned as he took another sip of his drink. "Alright, I've seen enough... you've got a gift, man. Some people just know how to talk, but you? You know how to make people listen."

Rowan lifted a brow, amused. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Samir leaned forward, resting his forearm on the table. "And that's rare. You ever thought about doing more with it?"

Rowan smirked, shaking his head. "I'm good where I am."

"Shame," Samir sighed dramatically before flashing him a playful grin. "A guy like you? Would make an excellent wingman."

Monica quickly rolled her eyes. "Oh? And what exactly do you need a wingman for, Samir?"

Samir's grin didn't falter. "Babe, I was just saying—"

"You were just saying," Monica mimicked, arching a brow. "Right in front of your girlfriend?"

The table laughed, and even Samir chuckled, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let's not kill me just yet."

Monica huffed but leaned into him anyway, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Still," She mused, glancing at Rowan. "He's got that aura, you know? That kind of presence that makes people trust him."

Mila, still watching Rowan with amusement, nodded. "I told you, didn't I?"

Natalie, who had been quiet for most of the conversation, finally spoke.

"It's true," She admitted, adjusting her glasses. "I felt it earlier. He makes it easy to talk."

Rowan let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. "You're all giving me too much credit."

Selene spoke again, her voice measured. "It's not about credit. It's about influence. And you have it, whether you mean to or not."

Rowan glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "And what do you think I should do with it?"

Selene took a slow sip of her drink before answering, her voice smooth as silk. "That depends. Are you content with where you are, or are you just comfortable?"

Rowan sighed as he realized that he could not win the argument with the young woman sitting in front of him.

----

On the other side, Loraine stepped into the simple yet designed restroom, her heels clicking softly against the pristine marble floor.

The scent of fresh lilies mixed with a faint trace of expensive perfume lingered in the air.

As she approached the sink, she turned on the tap, letting the cool water flow over her hands.

Her reflection in the mirror stared back at her. She tilted her head slightly, scanning the room as she dried her hands.

Clean and Spotless.

She was quite surprised since she had expected something… messier, given the club's bustling energy.

She took a deep breath and smoothed out the fabric of her dress. Something about tonight had made her curious. Maybe it was the way Rowan spoke about the place, or maybe it was just the thrill of stepping into a world outside of her own carefully curated environment. Either way, she wasn't ready to go back just yet.

So, she decided to explore.

Stepping out into the hallway, she let her instincts guide her.

The muffled bass of the club's music grew stronger with each step she took toward the ground floor. And when she finally emerged, the scene before her was nothing short of electric.

The air pulsed with energy. Strobe lights flickered across the dance floor, illuminating a sea of bodies moving in rhythm with the heavy beat.

Laughter and cheers mixed with the music, creating a chaotic yet intoxicating atmosphere.

Loraine remained at the edge of the crowd, watching with quiet intrigue. This was an entirely different world from the structured, refined settings she was used to.

There was no order, no pretense—just people living in the moment.

She found herself mesmerized.

Her gaze wandered across the floor, past the laughing women in glittering dresses, past the men tossing back shots at the bar.

In a secluded corner of the club.

A group of men sat huddled around a table, drinks in hand, their presence markedly different from the carefree patrons surrounding them. They had a fiercer aura—sharper eyes, rougher edges.

Their eyes weren't just wandering; they were searching.

Their rough chuckles and low voices carried an edge, each word laced with something unspoken. Empty glasses clinked as one of them, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, leaned back in his chair, scanning the dance floor.

"Nothing special tonight," He muttered, swirling the whiskey in his glass.

"Yeah," Another grunted, adjusting his jacket. "All look too... proper. Too decent."

His lips curled in disappointment.

A third man, younger but just as hardened, snorted. "You'd think a place like this would have more excitement. More... entertainment."

His tone dripped with expectation, and the others chuckled knowingly.

A waitress passed by, and one of them let out a low whistle, eyes trailing her.

"Not bad, but still not what I'm looking for," He mused, taking a sip of his drink.

The others laughed, shaking their heads.

"You're too picky," One of them said, nudging him with his elbow. ""You expecting something wild? Look at this place—it's filled with the good girls tonight."

He sneered, taking a slow sip from his drink.

"Something worth my time," The man replied, his voice slow and deliberate. His eyes drifted back to the crowd, still searching, still unsatisfied.

They continued drinking, their comments growing bolder, yet their expressions never changed. It was as if they were waiting—for something or someone.

And in that dimly lit club, amidst the flashing lights and pulsing music, something about them felt off.

They continued like this, their words growing bolder, more inappropriate, but none of the women on the dance floor held their interest.

Until one of them turned—and saw Loriane. He could not help but look at her from top to bottom like a predator.

The moment his eyes landed on her, everything else faded. It started as a glance. Then a second. Then a third. His gaze swept over her, slow and deliberate, drinking in every inch of her with the hunger of a predator spotting its prey.

"Well, well," He murmured, a dangerous grin creeping onto his face. "Now that... that's something else."

His words were like a signal. The others turned, their eyes locking onto her, their conversation shifting in an instant.

"Where the hell did she come from?" One of them asked, sitting up straighter.

"Does it matter?" Another replied, licking his lips. "Look at her."

The youngest of them let out a low chuckle, leaning in toward the table. "That's the kind of woman who doesn't belong here. Too damn perfect."

"Or maybe just waiting for the right company," Another sneered, his grin widening.

The first man who had spotted her leaned back, eyes never leaving Loriane. His fingers tapped against his glass in thought.

"She doesn't even know we're watching," He mused, tilting his head. "Yet."

The others chuckled, their gazes locked onto her like a pack of wolves.