Page 203 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

There are crowds outside the studio building. Actual crowds.

People pressed against barricades with phones raised, security guards trying to hold everyone back while camera flashes explode nonstop across the sidewalk like tiny lightning strikes.

And somehow, impossibly, they’re yelling my name, too.

“Oh shit,” I mutter, freezing halfway out of the car. “Absolutely not.”

Julian appears beside me, sunglasses on despite the cloudy weather, grinning like this is the greatest day of his life. “Relax, Trouble.”

“There are people screaming.”

“That’s generally how fame works.”

“I hate it.”

He laughs softly and reaches back for my hand before I can retreat into the vehicle again.

Unfortunately, that only makes the screaming louder. Fantastic.

Cameras swing toward us.

“Willow!”

“Julian!”

“Are you all dating?”

“Willow, look over here!”

I nearly trip on the curb, but Gabe catches my elbow.

“Keep moving,” he says beside me, calm as ever.

Easy for him to say. He looks built for this world.

All three of them do.

Xander walks ahead with that same expression he always wears when things get intense, broad shoulders tense beneath his black coat while security clears a path toward the building entrance.

Meanwhile, I’m trying not to throw up in front of several hundred strangers.

The lobby inside is somehow worse. Bright lights. Staff everywhere. People with headsets moving at alarming speed.

And every single one of them stares at us when we walk in.

Or, more specifically, at me.

I understand what zoo animals must feel like.

A woman with sleek dark hair rushes toward us.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” she says breathlessly. “We’re already trending, and you haven’t even gone live yet.”

“Comforting,” I mutter.

She blinks. Julian snorts beside me.

“This way,” she continues quickly, clearly deciding not to unpack my attitude, and leads us down a long hallway lined with framed platinum records and artist photos.