Page 83 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Nothing.

Everything.

Stay away from her.

I say none of it.

Because Willow isn’t mine. Because she’d skin me alive if she heard me think that sentence in her direction.

Because the thing dragging through my chest right now has more to do with instinct than fairness, and I know the difference, even if I don’t like it.

I step back and break the line before it becomes more.

The take ends again in the booth. A muffled cheer comes through the glass from the drummer this time.

Neither of us looks over.

I say, “I’m heading into town.”

Julian’s brows pull together. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“For what?”

I hold his gaze for half a beat.

He knows.

His mouth kicks at one corner, but he’s smart enough not to make a joke out of it. “Right.”

I turn for the door.

“Xander.”

I pause with my hand on the frame.

Behind me, his voice loses the last of its humor. “Don’t start a fight because you’re in one with yourself.”

This is stupid.

I don’t do this. I don’t chase, I don’t compete, and I sure as hell don’t get territorial over a woman I barely know.

My hand tightens around the handle as I open the door.

But Willow is different than anyone I’ve known. She doesn’t bend, doesn’t fawn, doesn’t look at me as a man to want, and that’s the problem.

I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, the rumble calming the restlessness under my skin.

Julian can flirt, Gabe can analyze, but I saw her first. And I’m not stepping back just because they’ve decided to take an interest.

She’s mine.

FIFTEEN

Willow

By the time my shift ends, I’m ninety percent caffeine, ten percent spite, and held together entirely by muscle memory and sarcasm.