Page 74 of Hard Bargain

He didn’t need to turn his head to know what Knox was doing. He could see it in his peripheral vision: the deliberate way Knox set the empty glass down before cutting through the crowd.

“—if we could just push the window back a week,” the supplier said, trying for casual and failing. “Not cancel. Just… adjust.”

Dominic watched him. “This was scheduled three weeks ago.”

“Yes, and we thought—”

“You confirmed twice.”

The supplier faltered. “We did, but circumstances changed.”

Dominic inclined his head, as if considering it. “I don’t reschedule infrastructure,” he replied. “If you can’t meet the deadline, tell me now. I’ll find someone who can.”

A flicker of panic crossed the supplier’s face. “No. That won’t be necessary. We can make it work.”

Dominic held his gaze a moment longer, making sure. “You’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Dominic dismissed him with a nod, done with the conversation before the man had even stepped away. The supplier drifted back into the crowd, relief poorly disguised as composure.

Only then did he allow his focus to shift.

And there he was.

Knox had taken a seat at Cassian’s table as if he belonged there. The table was crowded, loud, and alive. Knox’s friends were relaxed, unaware of the current running beneath the surface. A few of the off-duty dancers had drifted over, drawn in by Cassian’s gravity.

Dominic’s gaze settled—inevitably—on Knox, then shifted to the new dancer. The one Dominic had approved a month ago. She was young and ambitious, learning quickly how to aim her charm like a weapon. She was leaning toward Knox, laughing at whatever he’d said.

Dominic turned away before the stillness in his body could be mistaken for hesitation. He took the staircase to the upper level, the section reserved for VIP tables. Private enough to separate him from the floor, open enough to see everything. From there, the club spread out beneath him in a blur of movement and sound.

He took his usual spot along the railing, resting his forearms against the polished metal. Everything was exactly as it should be. Except his attention wasn’t; it anchored immediately.

Knox sat back in the booth, one arm stretched along the backrest. The dancer had closed the distance. Her hand slid up Knox’s chest as she leaned close to his ear, lips brushing his jaw as she laughed.

Knox didn’t move away. If anything, he tilted his head toward her, giving her more access.

Dominic’s jaw locked.

The girl grew bolder, fluid in her confidence. One leg slid over Knox’s thigh, settling into his lap like she’d done a hundred times before. Her hips moved to the rhythm of the bass, while her fingers traced the line of his collar, teasing the hollow at his throat.

Knox’s hand closed around her waist.

Dominic adjusted his grip on the railing, metal pressing into his palm.

Below, Cassian watched with lazy interest, sprawled comfortably, clearly entertained.

The dancer rolled her hips again, slower this time, testing how far she could go. Her fingers slid into Knox’s hair.

Dominic had to consciously force his fingers to loosen, one by one. The club carried on around him, but it all felt distant. Irrelevant. His focus narrowed until there was nothing but that table, the girl, and Knox.

The dancer was nearly draped across Knox’s lap now, and he seemed to be enjoying the attention. He had shifted back to give her room to move, to grind, to perform. His hand hadn’t left her waist.

Stop looking.

That’s when Cassian looked up. Their eyes met across the distance and Cassian’s mouth curved. Dominic felt a specific kind of irritation he reserved exclusively for this man. Cassian had clocked it. Clocked exactly where Dominic’s attention had been and why.

Dominic held the look, a clear warning in his eyes. Cassian didn’t look chastised; he looked pleased. He leaned closer to Knox and spoke into his ear. Knox’s brow furrowed before he followed Cassian’s subtle tilt of the chin. His gaze traveled upward and found Dominic instantly.