Page 134 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“Yes.”

I turn away and pace again, because standing still is surrender.

The office smells of coffee and paper and the kind of order Gabe builds around himself when the rest of life refuses to cooperate. Usually I find it comforting in a weird way.

Right now, I want to knock something slightly out of alignment just to make him feel human.

“You know what happens if Xander finds out you’ve been talking to Dylan behind his back,” I say.

“Yes. He’ll be furious.”

I stop and stare at him. “That’s your answer?”

“It’s the expected outcome.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“Of course, it bothers me.”

He says it flatly, but I know him better than that.

It does bother him. More than he’s letting show. The problem is Gabe can file his feelings under “secondary” if he thinks the larger structure matters more.

Usually, that’s useful. This might be one of the times it ruins everything.

“You’re gambling with the one fracture in this house that still has blood on it,” I say.

The thing with Dylan was never just about career rivalry. Not really. It was about years of resentment layered on top of grief layered on top of betrayal, and all of it turning into something too ugly and too personal to pull apart cleanly.

People on the outside always make it about the girl because that’s easier to digest. Fiancée sleeps with brother. Brothers fall out. Big dramatic scandal. Simple.

It wasn’t simple.

By the time that happened, Xander was already half gone with grief. Josiah’s death blew the foundations out from under him. The band was fraying. He was fraying. And Dylan…

Dylan has always had terrible timing when it comes to pain. His own and everybody else’s.

Sleeping with Xander’s fiancée didn’t just break trust. It confirmed every dark thing Xander already believed about abandonment and loyalty and what people do when you stop being easy to love.

I know that.

Gabe knows that, too.

Which is why this is making me crazier than it should.

“You think Dylan’s worth the fallout,” I say.

Gabe doesn’t answer immediately. “I think The Last Rebels are.”

I shake my head. “And you don’t see how that’s a problem?”

“I see exactly how it’s a problem.”

“Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like you’ve convinced yourself this is clean if you call it strategy.”

His jaw tightens. “I haven’t called it clean.”

“No. You’ve called it necessary.”