Chapter 17 Brunch Among Friends
Brunch Among Friends
Sunlight crept through the apartment windows, soft and slanted. It spilled across the scuffed wood floors, lighting up the living room in a sleepy kind of gold.
Arden stood at the counter with a mug that was still too hot to drink.
Across the room, Penny breezed by, as if music lived in her bones. Her curls bounced with every step, and her pajama pants were purple chaos—loud enough to wake the dead, printed with cartoon cats mid-catastrophe. Tails tangled. Paws flailing. Somehow, it fit her.
Coffee filled the air, rich and sweetened by the faintest thread of vanilla from a flickering candle Penny had stashed on a shelf like it belonged there all along.
Arden breathed it in. No rush. Only quiet. The kind of serenity that only lasts until the world remembers you exist.
“I can’t believe he called a staff meeting before nine,” she muttered, lifting the mug. The first sip burned a little, but she didn’t mind. “Gideon doesn’t even pretend to like mornings.”
Penny spun in a lazy circle, arms loose at her sides, her pajama cats caught mid-brawl.
“Maybe he’s had a revelation,” she said, voice bright with mischief. “Woke up with the sunrise and decided to chase enlightenment.”
Arden snorted into her coffee. “Or he’s planning a deeply serious crash course in napkin origami.”
“Oh yes, the thrilling world of upscale hospitality,” Penny said, striking a dramatic pose. Her pants shifted so the cartoon cats looked like they were mid-curtain call, tumbling over each other for applause.
The purple contrasted violently with the navy sofa. Arden didn’t comment. She didn’t have to.
“But seriously,” Penny said, collapsing sideways onto the armrest with the tragic flair of a silent film star, “what’s your gut telling you?”
Arden shrugged. “Not a damn thing. But I’m sure the answer’s coming.”
Penny groaned, letting her head loll back dramatically.
“Well, if it’s terrible news, at least bring me pastries. Two minimum. No forks. You know my policies.”
Arden rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. “I’ll do my best.”
With a final, lazy spin, Penny blew a kiss over her shoulder; her pajama cats erupting into fresh chaos.
Arden shook her head, grabbed her bag off the counter, and made for the door, leaving behind the low hum of coffee, vanilla, and Penny’s relentless, messy joy.
Whatever Gideon was planning, she’d find out soon enough.
?
The cold hit her face the moment she stepped out, crisp and biting. Arden pulled her coat snug and kept moving, her breath trailing in short puffs as the city blinked awake around her. A car grumbled to life somewhere nearby. A horn barked. Footsteps echoed behind her, quick and uneven, then faded.
She walked with purpose, her thoughts slipping elsewhere.
To Gideon.
Sharp. Unreadable. Tension stitched into his bones.
But something had shifted.
Subtle. Like he’d started loosening the reins enough to be seen.
And whatever was happening with Gideon? It was getting under her skin.
She hadn’t named it yet.
But it was there. Unmistakable.
Like he was showing just enough of himself to make her wonder.
She reached the door before she was ready.
Tall. Black. Familiar.
The handle caught the light, bright against the darker frame. Arden hesitated long enough to draw a breath, then pushed it open.
Inside, the staff trickled in: quiet, yawning, half-dreaming. A few leaned near the bar, hands wrapped around coffee cups, eyes squinting toward the setup beyond them. The mood? Bleary. Suspicious. Definitely not normal.
Fatima spotted her first, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “Didn’t peg Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Broody for a sunrise kind of guy. What’s with the early roll call?”
Arden shook her head. “No clue. Maybe we’re getting certified in champagne saber techniques.”
Fatima let out a low laugh. “Wouldn’t put it past him.”
Marco leaned on the bar, coffee in hand, eyes half-lidded. “If we’re here this early, it’s gotta be serious. Somebody must’ve butchered inventory.”
“Doubt it,” Arden muttered, her attention snagging on something further down the room.
She gave Fatima a nudge and tilted her head. “Does that really scream emergency staff meeting to you?”
Fatima followed her line of sight, then blinked.
Pastries lined a long table, warm and golden.
Bright fruit spilled from polished bowls, the scent of cinnamon, butter, and coffee wrapping around her like a promise.
Even a mimosa bar sparkled nearby, subtle jazz humming low in the background.
The setup looked more like a brunch ad than anything corporate.
“What in the…” Fatima started, but her words trailed off as Gideon emerged from his office.
He moved through the room with his usual composed air, but…
Something was different.
Still authoritative. Still restrained.
But lighter.
He looked like a man just in from the cold; tense, but thawing at the edges.
His gaze skimmed the group, then lingered on Arden. Whatever passed between them… she couldn’t name it, but it landed all the same.
“Good morning,” he said, voice smooth but just a hair off, like the phrase didn’t fit right in his mouth.
“I know this wasn’t what you pictured when I asked you in early,” he went on. “But I figured it was time to change things up.”
Fatima leaned toward Arden, whispering, “Is he… smiling? Am I hallucinating?”
Arden elbowed her, fighting her own smile as Gideon went on.
“This isn’t a meeting,” he clarified. “It’s a thank-you. You all work hard—harder than most. And it doesn’t go unnoticed.”
His fingers flexed at his sides, like he was unfamiliar, uncomfortable even, with this vulnerability.
“I’ve… realized lately that I don’t say that enough.” His gaze flicked, for the briefest moment, to Arden. “So, consider this brunch a small gesture of appreciation.”
A murmur rippled through the group—surprised, amused, but mostly pleased.
Marco lifted his cup with a wide grin. “Look at that. The man bleeds after all.”
Gideon gave him a dry look, but the corner of his mouth tipped up. “Try not to ruin the moment, Marco.”
“This is new,” Fatima whispered. Arden didn’t disagree. Whatever it was, it stirred warmth beneath her ribs.
Arden shook her head, but warmth spread through her chest. “Not my idea. But he’s full of surprises.”
Gideon caught the exchange, lifting a brow.
Arden caught his eye, a crooked grin playing at her lips. “Trying to win us over, Blackwell?”
He didn’t look away. Not right away. Something quiet flickered behind those eyes.
The question was light, almost teasing.
But something was underneath.
Something meant for her.
She held his gaze, smile tugging at the edge of her mouth. “Guess we’ll see if your brunch game matches your brooding.”
Laughter stirred the room. Mugs clinked against marble; chairs scraped back with sleepy groans; the usual tightness around Gideon loosened slightly. One by one, the staff drifted toward the spread, plates in hand, voices rising with something close to ease.
Arden hung back, letting the others claim their seats and dive into the spread. She watched from the edge of the room, arms crossed and coffee in hand, as her team laughed over syrup-drenched pancakes and piled their plates high with buttery pastries and fruit so fresh it glistened.
A simple thing.
But from Gideon? It was a seismic shift.
He appeared at her side without a word, the soft tread of his shoes barely audible over the low murmur of conversation; hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the table with a quiet sort of focus. He didn’t speak right away, and neither did she.
Finally, he glanced her way. “Well?”
She looked over at him. “Well, what?”
His mouth twitched. “The food, Arden. The atmosphere. My… evolution into a halfway-decent human being.”
She arched a brow. “You want a Yelp review or a standing ovation?”
“I’ll settle for the truth.”
She studied him, coffee warming her hands, humor playing at the edge of her voice. “It’s nice. Unexpected. But… really nice.”
“They’re not used to seeing this side of me,” he said, almost to himself.
She tilted her head. “Neither are you.”
That earned her a quick look: one part amused, one part resigned. “Fair.”
He shifted, his stance loosening enough to betray the weight behind his words.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said, quieter now. “About what you said… what this place could be. What I want it to be.”
That stopped her. Her amusement faded, something softer replacing it.
She hadn’t expected a follow-up, let alone reflection.
“I didn’t think you were actually listening,” she said, the words falling out before she could pull them back.
His gaze darted to hers.
"I always listen," he said—quiet, certain.
The rawness in his tone made her stomach tighten, not sharp, not heavy. Just real. And for a second, she had nothing to offer in return. No joke, no sidestep.
The silence stretched, but it didn’t press down on them. It settled between them, still and open. Something unfinished.
Then he straightened, slipping the moment back into his pocket like it hadn’t happened at all. “Enjoy the brunch, Rivers. You’ve earned it.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away. Somewhere behind him, a glass clinked or maybe a cork gave a soft pop—normal sounds returning like nothing had shifted at all.
Arden let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
She watched him from across the room—how Marco’s mug clinked against the bar as Gideon refilled it; how Fatima’s laugh lifted into the room like smoke; how he leaned in to actually listen when someone spoke.
It was subtle, almost too subtle, but she saw it. Felt it.
Something had changed.
Maybe Penny was right.
Maybe Gideon Blackwell was truly turning over a new leaf.
Or maybe he was finally letting them see the man he’d always been underneath the steel and polish.
Either way… it suited him.
With a quiet huff that might’ve been a laugh, she grabbed a mimosa and slid into an empty seat, the hum of easy conversation settling around her.
Whatever had prompted this shift, she wasn’t about to overthink it.
Not when it meant seeing her team like this: relaxed, happy, whole.
Not when the tension had loosened its grip on the room.
And not when, across the room, Gideon Blackwell finally looked like a man, not a fortress.
The fact that he looked even better this way?
That alone was worth savoring.
And if it also meant catching glimpses of a different side of Gideon?
Well.
That was just a bonus.
An especially attractive bonus.
?
As she walked, Arden couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t only a moment.
It wasn’t just Gideon letting his guard down.
Something had shifted.
Not in him.
In her understanding of him.
He wasn’t just her boss.
Wasn’t the calculating man behind The Blackwell Room’s empire.
He was a man trying to be better.
Trying to be worthy of something more than power or legacy.
And that made him more dangerous than ever.
Penny was going to have a field day.
She let out a breath, already bracing for the teasing.
But climbing the stairs, her thoughts kept circling—back to him.
His voice.
His restraint.
The way he looked at her like she wasn’t just anyone.
She was in trouble.
The kind of trouble that made your pulse kick up before you even admitted it out loud.
Because if Gideon Blackwell kept showing her that man beneath the mask… she might just let him in.
And that?
That was the real danger.