Page 74 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

And he chose me.

I glance down at myself.

Jeans that fit but aren’t perfect, shirt clinging in ways I’m very aware of, soft, curvy, not exactly what men like him usually go for.

“Stop it,” I mutter under my breath.

“Talking to yourself now?” Lara calls.

“Always,” I shoot back.

“Good. At least someone’s listening.”

I huff out a laugh despite myself and push through the door into the main floor and walk directly into a human being.

A solid one.

With shoulders.

And a very unfairly familiar chest.

I bounce back a step on instinct, already bracing to apologize, when a hand comes out to hold me, warm and steady like this sort of thing happens to him all the time.

“Careful,” a voice says, far too amused for someone I just collided with.

I know that voice.

Because I cannot seem to exist in this town for more than seventy-two hours at a time without one of them spawning into my personal space like some kind of very attractive glitch in reality.

I look up.

Julian.

Leaning there like he didn’t just appear out of nowhere and almost get taken out by a waitress with a tray and unresolved issues.

His hair is a mess in that deliberate way that should be illegal, jacket slung over one shoulder, posture loose like he’s been here long enough to establish residency.

His grin kicks up the second he sees my face fully.

“Well,” he says, completely unbothered. “Funny running into you here.”

I blink at him. “I work here.”

“Exactly,” he replies, like that explains everything.

It doesn’t. In fact, it raises several new concerns.

I narrow my eyes. “What do you want?”

“Food, ideally. But I’ll settle for your company.”

“That’s not on the menu.”

“It should be.”

I grab a notepad anyway because, unfortunately, I’m a professional. “What are you ordering?”

He leans closer, just enough to make it feel conspiratorial. “My tour guide.”