Page 193 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Comments, headlines, the security alarm, the look on Julian’s face when the compound locked down.

By one in the morning, I give up pretending sleep is happening and slip out of bed.

Daisy lifts her head from the rug as I move around the room.

“You stay,” I whisper.

She blinks at me, clearly unconvinced by my leadership abilities, but settles back down anyway.

The compound is almost eerily quiet at night.

The long hallways shine softly under dim wall lights, shadows stretching across polished floors while music hums faintly somewhere deeper in the house.

I pad barefoot downstairs wearing leggings and another stolen oversized shirt, rubbing the back of my neck as I wander toward the sound.

Studio A’s door is cracked open. I pause outside before gently pushing it wider.

Xander’s sitting alone in the dark.

Well, mostly dark.

The recording booth gleams faint blue behind him while the massive mixing console lights the room in soft scattered colors. He’s leaned forward in the chair, forearms resting against his knees, fingers tapping once against each other before stilling.

A notebook sits open beside him filled with messy handwritten lyrics.

He looks up the second I step inside.

His gaze drags over me, taking me in. Bare legs, messy hair, his shirt. “You should be asleep.”

“So should you.”

A corner of his mouth almost moves. “Can’t argue with that.”

I step further into the studio. “You writing?”

His eyes shift toward the notebook. “Trying to.”

“Anything good?”

“Not yet.”

I glance at the pages carefully. Lyrics scratched out hard enough to nearly tear through paper, pieces of sentences, fragments, grief bleeding through all of it.

Xander nods. “Go ahead.”

I hesitate. Then I pick up the notebook.

The lyrics hit me.

Loss, guilt, someone disappearing before he was ready to let them go.

It aches.

I swallow hard and look back at him. “This is beautiful.”

His expression tightens. He doesn’t know what to do with praise anymore. “It’s unfinished.”

“Still beautiful.” I sit down beside him on the couch near the soundboard, tucking one leg beneath myself. “Julian told me you stopped writing after your band ended.”