Page 228 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Her expression tightens.

“But,” I continue, “I can tell you none of us are approaching this casually.”

“I know.”

I study her for another moment. “Come with me tonight.”

She blinks. “Where?”

“Walk.”

“That’s ominous.”

“It’s Redemption Falls, not a crime documentary.”

“That sounds exactly like something a murderer would say.”

A corner of my mouth lifts. “Come with me anyway.”

By the time night settles over town, Redemption Falls looks more itself again. Lights beam warmly through diner windows. People drift between storefronts. Music spills softly from Bennett’s down the block.

Normal.

Or at least close enough to remind her it still exists.

Willow walks beside me, hands tucked into the sleeves of her hoodie while cold air brushes through the streets.

No security tonight. No publicists. Just us.

“You know,” I say after a while, “most people misunderstand attention.”

She glances sideways at me. “That sounds ominously philosophical.”

“It’s practical.”

“Of course it is.”

I ignore that.

“People think attention lasts forever because it feels overwhelming when you’re inside it,” I continue. “But the public gets bored quickly.”

“That’s comforting.”

“It should be.”

She exhales softly. “I just don’t know how you guys survived it for so long.”

My gaze shifts toward her briefly. “I got very good at control.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I noticed.”

We continue walking through town.

A few people recognize us. Some whisper. Some stare. But nobody approaches.

Willow relaxes gradually beside me, shoulders lowering little by little as the evening settles around us.

Good.