Page 131 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

To be even fairer, I got distracted by the open notebook sitting beside his laptop.

Not because I was snooping. Because the man leaves things right in my eye line and then acts shocked when I read them. That’s on him.

I’m leaning against the bookshelf, guitar pick rolling over my knuckles, when I catch it.

A single line in the margin of a page that’s otherwise full of budget numbers, projected release schedules, studio allocations, and a shortlist of festival targets for next year.

DLR / call Thurs / masters?

I go still, because there’s only one DLR that makes sense in this context.

Dylan Luke Harlow.

Xander’s brother.

The one he hasn’t spoken to in a year.

The one whose name sits in this house as an old crack in the wall. Not always obvious, but always there if the light hits wrong.

Gabe ends the call with his usual smooth, efficient charm and looks up just in time to catch me still staring at the notebook.

His eyes narrow. “Why do you look interested?”

I straighten a little. “Because I am.”

“That’s never reassuring.”

“No, it usually isn’t.”

He reaches for the notebook, but I’m already pushing off the shelf.

“Is that Dylan?” I ask.

There’s no point easing into it. With Gabe, you either say it or you waste ten minutes watching him pretend not to know what you mean.

He doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.

He closes the notebook with one hand. “That depends on what you think you saw.”

I let out a short laugh. “Oh no. Don’t do that lawyer voice with me.”

“I don’t have a lawyer voice.”

“You do. It’s deeply annoying.”

He leans back in his chair, sleeves rolled once, expression flattening into that infuriating calm he uses when he’s already decided what the room is allowed to know. “Julian.”

“Gabe.”

His mouth twitches, just barely. “What exactly are you asking?”

I push away from the desk and cross the room, shutting the office door behind me before I answer.

That gets his attention, because if I’m closing a door, it means I’ve stopped being playful. I turn back to him. “I’m asking if you’ve really been in touch with Dylan.”

He studies me. “Yes.”

I blink once. “Since when?”