The club house is alive with energy, the pulsating beat of the music creating a backdrop for the mingling crowd. Jordan Knight moves through the throng with practiced ease, his arm around Rachel Bennett. Her introductions are seamless, guiding him through a sea of dignitaries and influencers, each one more important than the last.
"Jordan, this is Senator Harris," Rachel says, her voice smooth and confident. "He has been a great support in Dad's campaign."
"Senator," Jordan nods, offering a firm handshake. "It's a pleasure."
"Likewise," the Senator replies, his eyes appraising Jordan. "I've heard good things about Knight Security. We might have some business to discuss soon."
Jordan smiles, his mind already assessing potential angles for collaboration. Rachel continues the introductions, her charm evident in every conversation. She is his anchor in this world, her political savvy complementing his tactical expertise. Yet tonight, there's a restlessness in Jordan, an unspoken desire for something beyond the superficial exchanges.
"Rachel, I need a drink," Jordan leans in, whispering in her ear. "I'll be back shortly."
Rachel nods, her attention already shifting to the next group. Jordan makes his way to the bar, the crowd parting slightly for him. He catches snippets of conversations—deals being brokered, secrets whispered, alliances formed. It's a world he's familiar with, yet tonight, he feels a longing for something real, something tangible.
He reaches the bar and orders a whiskey, savoring the moment of solitude. As he takes a sip, a figure catches his eye—a woman moving with a determined grace, her eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and intent. She's beautiful, striking even, and something about her draws him in.
Alex approaches the bar, her heart pounding. She's here for an interview, but the sight of Jordan Knight in person has thrown her off balance. His presence is magnetic, and she finds herself inexplicably drawn to him.
"Excuse me," she says, her voice wavering slightly. "Are you Jordan Knight?"
Jordan turns, his eyes locking onto hers. "I am. And you are?"
"Alex Daniels," she replies, extending her hand. "I'm a journalist. Can i ask a few questions?"
Jordan takes her hand, holding it a moment longer than necessary. "A journalist, huh? What kind of questions?"
Alex's mind goes blank. She's prepared for this moment, but now, standing so close to him, she's captivated by his presence. She tries to gather her thoughts, but words fail her.
"Actually, I... I just wanted to say hi," she stammers, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.
Jordan chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Hi, Alex. Nice to meet you."
She smiles nervously, taking a sip of her drink to compose herself. "So, you come here often?"
"Not really," Jordan replies, leaning against the bar. "Rachel dragged me here. She said it'd be good for business.
Alex nods, her nerves settling slightly. "Yeah, it's a great place for networking. Lots of interesting people."
Jordan's gaze softens as he watches her. There's something genuine about her, something that cuts through the pretense of the evening. "And what about you? Are you enjoying yourself?"
Alex hesitates, her eyes darting around the room. "I guess so. It's... overwhelming."
"Tell me about it," Jordan says, his tone conspiratorial. "But sometimes, you find something unexpected."
Alex blushes again, feeling the intensity of his gaze. "Yeah, sometimes you do."
Just as the moment stretches, Alex's foot slips on a slick spot on the floor. She loses her balance, her drink sloshing over the rim of her glass. Before she can hit the ground, Jordan's arms are around her, steadying her with surprising gentleness.
"Careful there," he says, his voice low and warm.
Alex's heart races, her face inches from his. She's acutely aware of the strength in his arms, the scent of his cologne. "I'm fine. Really." she persists, hoping to maintain her calm.
"I'm not drunk."
Jordan chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "If you say so. But let me at least make sure you get home safe."
Alex starts to protest, but the concern in his eyes stops her. "Okay, but my friend Taylor isn't drunk. She can take me home."
As if on cue, Taylor appears, her expression one of amused curiosity. "What's going on here?"
Jordan turns to her, still holding Alex gently. "Just being a cool superhero. Do you mind if I help?"
Taylor grins, clearly enjoying the situation. "Not at all. I could use the company."
Jordan nods, helping Alex stand upright. "Let's get you two out of here."
Jordan nods, helping Alex stand upright. "Let's get you two out of here."
The three of them make their way through the club, Jordan's presence drawing curious glances. Outside, the chilly night air provides much-needed relief. Jordan hails a cab, helping Alex into the backseat before turning to Taylor.
"Where to?" he asks, his tone professional but kind.
"Her place is closest," Taylor replies, giving the driver the address. "Thank you, by the way. This is very kind of you."
Jordan waves it off. "It's no trouble."
As the cab pulls away, Taylor leans forward, whispering conspiratorially. "You know, Alex doesn't have a boyfriend. And I can tell you like her."
Jordan raises an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. "Is that so?"
Taylor nods emphatically. "Absolutely. And she likes you too. Trust me."
Jordan's smile widens as he settles back in his seat. "Good to know."
The cab ride is quiet, the city lights flickering past the windows. Alex leans against the door, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but her mind racing with thoughts of Jordan. As they pull up to her apartment, Jordan helps her out, his touch steady and reassuring.
"Thank you," she murmurs, her voice soft.
"Anytime," Jordan replies, his eyes lingering on hers.
Taylor steps in, her voice cheerful. "Thanks again, Jordan. You're a real gentleman."
Jordan nods, watching as they head inside. As the door closes behind them, he feels a strange sense of anticipation, as if something significant has just begun. As he walks down the alley back to the club, he slips his hands in his pocket and feels something ruffle in his dress, his line of work has always got him searching himself, incase someone decides to plant something on him. He pulls a ruffled piece of paper from his pocket, the ink shone dark contrasting with the dark brilliant light of the moon mixed street lamps.
'call her'
The strokes of each letter leaving a trail of long lines indicating the urgency at which they were written.
"Yeah right."
With Alex's contact information safely in hand, he heads back to the club, his mind buzzing with thoughts of the captivating journalist he's just met.