Page 94 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

“Bold strategy.”

Gabe huffs. “Please don’t let him send something cryptic.”

“I’m not cryptic.”

“You’re literally always cryptic.”

I lean over, trying to see the screen. “Let me help. I’m charming.”

“Stay out of it,” Xander mutters.

Too late.

I catch a glimpse anyway.

Xander: Come to the house. We need to talk.

I wince. “Wow. Romantic.”

Gabe pinches the bridge of his nose. “Give me that.”

He reaches over, takes the phone from Xander before he can argue, and types something else.

I crane my neck again.

Xander: Come for dinner. We’d like to see you.

I nod approvingly. “Much better. Less like a mafia summoning.”

Xander takes the phone back, sends it before either of us can interfere again.

And then, we wait.

SEVENTEEN

Willow

Isit in my car outside the Hawthorne House for a full minute longer than necessary, engine off, hands still resting on the wheel like I forgot what comes next.

This is already a bad sign.

Normal people don’t have to psych themselves up to walk into someone’s house for dinner. They just go inside. Maybe bring a bottle of wine, pretend they didn’t spend the entire drive over replaying very specific lake memories they absolutely shouldn’t be replaying.

I stare at the house.

It’s quieter than the last time I was here. The lights are on, warm against the dark, soft enough that the place looks almost inviting instead of whatever it was before. Intimidating. Ridiculous. Like I accidentally delivered food to a crazy compound and then got ambushed.

Which, to be fair, did happen.

I scrub a hand over the back of my neck and exhale.

“Okay,” I mutter. “You’re just having dinner. That’s it.”

I grab my bag and get out before I can talk myself into driving home and pretending my phone died.

The gravel crunches under my shoes and a breeze brushes my legs under my skirt as I head up the drive. I feel it again. That weird shift, like I’m stepping from my world into theirs. A world I definitely don’t belong in.

I knock before I can overthink it.