Page 21 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“Why here?” I ask finally, tearing off another piece of bread. “For whatever it is you’re doing.”

He glances at me. “You mean the label.”

I pause. “So, that’s what you’re doing here.”

His expression stays closed off. “You thought I was opening a tax office?”

“I thought you were being mysterious on purpose.”

“I was.”

“That’s incredibly irritating.”

He inclines his head, like I’ve complimented him.

I sigh. “So you run a label.”

“Co run.”

“With the other two?”

“Yeah.”

I let that settle. “And you brought it to Redemption Falls because…”

His gaze drifts briefly toward the room before coming back to me. “Because cities make people loud. I’m interested in what artists sound like when they can finally hear themselves think.”

That isn’t the answer I expected.

I set my bread down. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“That sounded almost like a real thought.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re surprised I have those?”

“I’m trying to keep an open mind.”

“You’re doing a bad job.”

“That’s because you’re making it difficult.”

He leans forward. “You still came.”

I take a sip of water, buying myself half a second. “You keep saying that like I’ve made some grand gesture instead of accepting an invitation to dinner while hungry.”

His gaze drops briefly to my mouth when I set the glass back down. “I say it because despite all the reasons you gave me not to be here, you still came.”

“That doesn’t mean as much as you think it does,” I say.

“Maybe.”

The food arrives before he can expand on that, which is fortunate because I don’t particularly want to examine why my pulse has decided to develop arrythmia tonight.

Martha sets down our plates, gives me another look full of private amusement, and leaves us with enough steam and butter and garlic on the table to make me briefly forget my own name.

I cut into my food and regret every skeptical thought I’ve had about this place.