Gravity of the pull

Kyren

He was new. I would have remembered seeing him before. Brown hair that caught the club's colored lights, strong hands that moved with practiced ease as he mixed drinks.

When he looked up, scanning the crowd, I caught a glimpse of sharp cheekbones and full lips that made my chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with my drink.

"Kyren?" Leo's voice seemed to come from very far away.

I couldn't look away from the bartender. He was beautiful in a way that made me forget.

For a moment, I imagined what it would be like to run my hands through his hair. Would it feel as silky as it looked?

"Boss?" Leo's voice was more insistent now.

I forced myself to look away, to focus on my bodyguard's concerned face. "I'm fine," I lied, downing the rest of my whiskey in one burning gulp.

***

The whiskey wasn't working fast enough.

I'd been nursing the same glass for ten minutes, watching Leo's mouth move as he talked about something I couldn't bring myself to care about. Every few seconds, my eyes drifted back to the bar, drawn like a magnet to the figure behind it.

"Kyren." Leo's voice was sharper now, cutting through my distraction. "You're not listening to a word I'm saying."

I forced myself to look at him, noting the concern creasing his brow. Leo had been with me for three years, long enough to read the warning signs when I was spiraling. Tonight, apparently, was one of those nights.

"I'm listening," I lied, downing the rest of my whiskey. The burn felt good, real, something to focus on besides the pull I felt toward the bar.

"Right." Leo's tone suggested he knew exactly how full of shit I was. "I was just saying we should head to the main floor. There's a group of women who've been eyeing our table since we sat down."

I glanced in the direction he indicated, taking in the cluster of perfectly styled women in expensive dresses. They were beautiful, available, and exactly the kind of distraction I should want. Three hours ago, I would have chosen one and fucked her in the bathroom without a second thought.

Now, the idea left me cold.

"Sure," I said anyway, "Let's go."

But as we stood to leave the VIP section, I made the mistake of looking at the bar again.

I should have looked away. Should have followed Leo down to the main floor and lost myself in meaningless conversation with women whose names I'd forget by morning.

Instead, I found myself moving toward the bar, my feet carrying me forward without conscious thought.

"Where are you going?" Leo called after me, but I was already pushing through the crowd.

The bar was packed, three deep with patrons trying to catch the bartenders' attention. I shouldered my way through with the kind of casual authority that came from a lifetime of people moving out of my way. But when I reached the front, it wasn't the dark-haired bartender who approached me.

"What can I get you?" asked a blonde woman with too much makeup and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

I stared at her, frustration building in my chest. "I need another whiskey. Top shelf."

"Coming right up." She turned away, and I found myself scanning the bar for the other bartender. He was at the far end, mixing what looked like a complicated cocktail for a group of college kids. As I watched, a woman in a red dress sidled up to him, leaning across the bar in a way that pushed her breasts together.

I frowned.

The woman was touching his arm now, laughing at something he'd said. He was being polite, and professional, but I could see the way her eyes lingered on his face.

"Here you go." The blonde bartender set my drink down, but I barely acknowledged her. I was too busy watching the scene unfold at the other end of the bar.

The woman in red was writing something on a napkin now—her number, probably. I gripped my glass so hard I was surprised it didn't shatter.

The rational part of my brain knew I had no right to feel this way. I was engaged to another woman, for Christ's sake. But rationality had nothing to do with the fire burning in my chest as I watched her slide the napkin across the bar.

"Boss?" Leo appeared at my elbow, having finally caught up with me. "You okay?"

"Fine," I said through gritted teeth, not taking my eyes off the bartender. He was looking at the napkin now, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting to see what he'd do with it.

He folded it without looking at it again and slipped it into his back pocket. Professional courtesy, nothing more. But the woman in red didn't seem to understand that, because she was still there, still touching his arm, still trying to get his attention.

"Come on," Leo said, tugging at my sleeve. "Let's go find those women I was telling you about. You could use some fun tonight."

I nodded absently, but made no move to follow him. Instead, I drained my whiskey in one burning gulp and signaled for another. The blonde bartender looked annoyed at having to serve me again, but I didn't care. I had a perfect view of the dark-haired bartender from here, and I wasn't ready to give that up.

Another drink. Then another. The whiskey was finally starting to do its job. Leo had given up trying to move me and was now standing guard, his eyes scanning the crowd for potential threats out of habit.

"You're going to be fucked up if you keep drinking like that," he warned, but there was resignation in his voice. He'd seen me drink my way through worse nights than this.

I was about to respond when I noticed the woman in red had finally given up and moved away. The bartender was alone now, cleaning glasses. This was my chance.

"Leo," I said, not taking my eyes off the bar. "Call him over."