Page 95 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

The door opens, almost.

Julian.

He leans against the frame with a smirk playing on his lips, like this is normal, like I show up here all the time and not whatever this actually is.

“Hey,” he says, easy as anything.

I look past him into the house, then back at him. “Have you been standing there waiting?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s unsettling.”

“Only if you assume the worst.”

“I always assume the worst.”

He grins. “I know.”

I step past him before he can say anything else, because if I stay in the doorway, I might turn around and leave, and I refuse to be that predictable.

The house feels different tonight.

Last time it felt like I’d walked into something I wasn’t supposed to see. Too polished. Too controlled. Like everything had a purpose I didn’t understand.

Now, it just feels lived in.

Music playing somewhere in the background. Lights on in the kitchen. The smell of actual food, not takeout. Someone left a glass on the counter. A jacket’s thrown over the back of a chair.

It’s almost normal, which is probably the most dangerous thing about it.

“Willow.”

I turn.

Gabe’s standing in the kitchen, sleeves rolled, looking the human embodiment of a luxury watch advertisement.

There’s something different about him, too. Less intense, maybe. Like he’s not actively calculating the entire room right now.

“Hi,” I say.

Smooth. Effortless. Really nailed that.

“I’m glad you came,” he says.

The way he says it that makes it feel like it matters more than it should.

I don’t get a chance to unpack that, because⁠—

“You took your time.”

I don’t look at Xander right away.

I know exactly where he is without turning. I can feel it.

Not helpful.

When I do look, he’s leaning against the counter, watching me like I’m the most interesting thing in the room, which is ridiculous.