Page 24 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“You know Xander?”

I glance at him.

At the women gathered around the table.

At the ease in his face.

“You tell me,” I say.

Maggie laughs awkwardly, already turning back toward him, and that’s it. That’s the moment. The exact moment my entire tolerance for this evening folds in on itself.

I set my napkin down and reach for my bag.

Xander’s gaze shifts to me. “Willow.”

I stand.

Maggie and her friends go quiet enough to notice that something is happening, but not silent enough to understand it.

“You leaving?” Maggie asks, and somehow that’s the final little pin in the whole thing.

I look at her.

Then at him.

Then back at her.

“Seems like the table’s getting crowded,” I say.

Xander’s voice drops, colder now. “Sit down.”

And there it is.

That command again. That assumption.

That controlled certainty that his words should become the shape of the room.

I meet his eyes and feel a cold, hardness settle into place.

“No,” I say.

The change in his expression is microscopic. But I see it.

Surprise first. Then irritation. Then a danger flaring under that because he’s very clearly not used to hearing that word, much less in public, much less with an audience.

“Willow.”

I sling my bag over my shoulder. “Enjoy your evening.”

I turn and walk out.

My heart’s pounding before I even make it through the door.

Not because I’m wrong, because I’m embarrassed.

Because part of me had started to relax. To think maybe there was more to him than the money and the arrogance and the intensity. Maybe there still is, but I’m not sitting there while women with old poster trauma swarm the table and remind me exactly how this kind of story usually ends.

I push through the door and the cold breeze hits me hard enough to feel like a slap.