Page 47 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“You have staff?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Julian glances back. “Yeah.”

I narrow my eyes. “In the house?”

“In the compound,” Gabe corrects.

I stop walking. “Excuse me?”

Julian turns around, nearly walking into me. “What?”

I gesture around wildly. “He just called this a compound.”

He looks around too, like maybe he’s forgotten where he lives. “I mean, yeah.”

“This isn’t normal.”

“No,” he agrees easily. “It’s better. Our music label compound.”

Gabe’s voice comes from beside me, calm as ever. “It used to be just the estate. We expanded the working parts.”

“Working parts,” I repeat. “Like a secret lab?”

Julian grins. “That would be so cool.”

“I need everyone in this house to stop saying things.”

But I’m looking again now.

The architecture of it.

The old house at the center, yes, but joined to something larger. Discreet additions in wood and glass tucked around the back and side, connected in a way that somehow doesn’t ruin the original structure.

Thoughtfully done. Expensively done.

Through a long interior window, I can see two rooms beyond with soundproofing on the walls and more equipment than I even know the names for.

And people.

Actual working people.

An assistant with a clipboard walks briskly out of one room. A guy in headphones and a band tee is sitting on a stool with a guitar across his lap, murmuring something to a woman bent over a console. The whole place feels alive in a way that has nothing to do with chandeliers and money and everything to do with motion. Intention. Creation.

Julian catches me staring through the glass.

“There it is again,” he says.

I cross my arms. “I’m just looking.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I am.”

“You look like you want to ask about the Neve console.”

I blink. “The what?”

He laughs. “Exactly.”