Page 243 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Then Gabe.

Then Julian.

And I smile.

“Yeah,” I say softly. “I think I am.”

FORTY-SIX

Julian

By the time we get back to the compound, I’m at least seventy percent wine and bad decisions, which is usually when I’m at my most charming.

The drive home was weirdly nice. Windows cracked just enough to let cool night air spill into the SUV, Willow curled into the corner seat beside me while Gabe drove and Xander stared out the window looking suspiciously less haunted than usual.

Progress.

The second we walk through the front doors, Gabe’s phone starts vibrating.

He groans. “If that’s another journalist, I’m legally changing my name.”

“You’d still look the same,” I tell him.

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Willow laughs softly beside me, slipping her boots off near the entryway while Daisy races through the house.

Xander loosens his collar as he walks farther inside. “What is it?”

Gabe checks the screen. Then snorts. “Oh no.”

I brighten. “That’s usually my line. What happened?”

He turns the phone around, and there it is. Caitlyn West’s newest article.

REDEMPTION RECORDS DESCENDS FURTHER INTO CHAOS: SMALL-TOWN WAITRESS AT CENTER OF ROCKSTAR LOVE SQUARE

“Love square?” Willow says. “That sounds geometrically incorrect.”

Xander takes the phone from him, scanning the article silently while we all crowd around.

“Oh, shit,” I choke out. “Read that part.”

Willow grabs the phone next.

Her eyes widen.

Then she reads aloud: “‘Sources close to the situation describe the atmosphere inside Hawthorne House as emotionally volatile, romantically tangled, and fueled by what appears to be an alarming amount of sexual tension.’”

I point dramatically. “Finally. Recognition for my hard work.”

She keeps reading, horrified and amused all at once. “‘Locals claim the mysterious dynamic between Willow Jameson and the Redemption Records founders has turned Redemption Falls into a real-life rockstar soap opera.’”

Xander takes the phone back. “Soap opera’s harsh.”

“You literally glared at a reporter tonight like you were about to challenge her to a duel,” I remind him.

“She was annoying.”