The soft hum of conversation filled the room now, laughter interwoven with teasing remarks as the older and younger groups blended with surprising ease. Mar was still in a deep debate with William over property values in Europe, neither backing down. Gia and Alex now sat shoulder to shoulder, swapping workplace horror stories with the polished ease of two caffeine-fueled professionals.
Elijah, slouched with a drink in hand, lazily argued about music with Malik—only to be shot down repeatedly by snarky comebacks. Malik, who had originally brushed off the flirtation with sarcasm, now lingered longer in the conversation. His answers carried a tone of amusement that neither denied nor invited more—but Elijah, ever persistent, wasn't discouraged.
Zi and Benjamin hovered over her phone, talking about legal loopholes in boutique branding laws.
Michael had somehow found himself cornered by Zi again, who raised a brow at his disapproving stare.
"We're not that young," she said, sipping from her glass.
"You're seventeen," Michael pointed out.
She gasped theatrically. "And you're what? Thirty? Should I start calling you 'sir'? Maybe 'Grandpa'?"
Michael narrowed his eyes. "I'm not old."
"Uh-huh." Zi smirked. "Tell that to your back next time you bend over."
"Oh my god," Elijah cackled from behind them. "She's feral."
"Don't encourage her!" Michael groaned, though even he cracked a reluctant smile.
Michael gave her a deadpan look. "Keep talking and I'm banning you from the army."
Zi grinned. "You'd miss me. Admit it."
Elijah leaned over toward Adam, a lazy grin on his face. "You seeing this? Old man Mikey is getting dragged by a teenager and liking it."
Adam smirked. "He always liked firecrackers. He just didn't know one would bite back."
Michael turned slowly. "I heard that."
Adam raised a brow innocently. "Did I say it wasn't true?"
The older men—William, Benjamin, Elijah, Alex, and Michael—exchanged subtle glances. They weren't blind. These teens—technically still seventeen—had taken over the room. Smart, confident, fearless. And the pull they felt wasn't something they could easily dismiss.
Morally? Sure, they knew the age gap should've been a line.
But emotionally?
That was harder.
Because in a crowd full of polished, calculated social climbers, these kids were real. And if they didn't make their move now—if they waited—someone else would. That was a risk none of them seemed willing to take.
Meanwhile, Mary had moved to the floor-to-ceiling glass wall overlooking the dance floor. The pulsing lights and crowd below sparked something inside her—a restlessness, a flicker of mischief. She turned, eyes catching Jason's across the room.
"I feel like dancing."
Jason blinked. "Now?"
"Now."
Gia, Mar, Zi, and Malik lit up instantly. "Yes!"
Jason groaned but got to his feet. "Here we go again."
Mary smirked. "You love it."
---
Downstairs, the club was chaos and neon. The beat pounded through the floors like a second heartbeat. Mary had only just stepped into the center when a tall stranger approached, suave and confident, extending a hand. Without missing a beat, she accepted, smiling politely.
The guy moved in close, his hand at her waist—too close.
From above, Adam watched. His jaw tensed. Every instinct in him roared. He hated this. He hated the way that guy touched her. He hated that she was laughing.
So, he moved.
William nudged Alex. "There he goes."
Elijah grinned.
Michael raised a brow, watching Adam slip through the crowd below. "Since when does Adam dance?"
Alex smirked. "Since she walked away."
The stranger was mid-spin when a hand tapped his shoulder. The man turned—and immediately stepped back at the look in Adam's eyes.
"I'll take it from here," Adam said coolly.
The guy glanced at Mary, then at Adam, assessed his odds—and walked away.
Mary arched a brow. "You dance now?"
"I don't," Adam replied, slipping his hand around her waist, "But I'll make an exception."
They moved in sync. Close. Charged. Neither of them smiled much, but there was something deeper in the tension—like the calm before a storm neither wanted to acknowledge.
Back upstairs, the men watched with varying degrees of amusement.
William clapped a hand on Michael's shoulder. "Your turn, old man."
Michael snorted. "Please. Unlike Adam, I don't fall that fast."
Elijah leaned over the railing. "Uh-huh. Then what's your excuse for glaring at the guy dancing with Zi?"
Michael looked down—and sure enough, someone was already spinning Zi across the floor. She laughed, flipping her hair with dramatic flair. Her grin was radiant.
Michael's jaw ticked.
William smirked. "Go on. Before 'young blood' down there thinks he has a chance."
Michael rolled his eyes, stood, and adjusted his cuffs.
"I swear, if she calls me 'grandpa' again on the floor…"
Alex chuckled. "You'll deal. You always do."
Michael headed for the stairs.
Elijah leaned back with a satisfied grin. "This night just keeps getting better."
---
Downstairs, the music pulsed as Michael approached the dance floor. Zi spotted him instantly, mid-spin. She grinned.
"Finally ready to move those old bones?" she teased.
Michael held out his hand. "Let's see if you can keep up, kid."
She accepted, stepping into his space with ease.
"Try not to break a hip," she murmured.
"I'll try not to step on your overconfident little toes."
And then they were moving—sharp, stylish, effortlessly in sync. The tension between them was unmistakable.
Above, the others watched, half in awe, half in disbelief.
—
Jason was standing across the dancing floor, watching the dance floor with a satisfied smirk.
"I don't know what's in the air tonight, but it's working."
Malik came to stand beside him. "Yeah. And I think Elijah is trying to flirt me into a personality crisis."
Jason barked a laugh. "You'll survive."
Malik glanced up meeting Elijah's eyes as he was standing on the balcony, he lifted his drink with a smirk and a wink. Malik turned away, ears slightly red.
"…Maybe."
---
By midnight, the energy had cooled into something softer. The younger group gathered near the exit, buzzing from the night.
"We should go," Mary said, slipping her phone into her clutch. "It's late."
Jason nodded. "We parked out back."
The older men followed them to the door, a little reluctantly.
"We can drive you," Alex offered.
Mary shook her head. "We've got our own cars."
She tossed Jason a key fob, then pulled out her own.
The click of a remote echoed as a sleek, jet-black Camaro blinked to life across the lot.
Elijah let out a low whistle. "That yours?"
Mary smirked. "Always has been."
Adam didn't say anything, but his gaze lingered. The car suited her—dark, smooth, powerful.
He helped her into the driver's seat, his fingers brushing hers briefly.
"You'll let me know next time you want to dance?" he asked.
Mary gave a faint smile. "We'll see."
The others piled into their respective cars—Jason into his BMW, Malik in his silver Audi, and the girls in Mary's Camaro.
The older men stood there for a moment, watching the engines purr to life and the taillights vanish into the dark.
Elijah sighed. "Well. That was… unexpected."
Michael folded his arms. "Yeah. But not bad."
Adam said nothing. He was still watching the road.
Not bad at all.