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“Do you think we could leave unnoticed?” Kai asks, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Definitely not,” Thalia replies with an amused smile.

“Ethan said we’re staying another hour,” Sierra informs the others.

“An hour?” Noah nearly shouts.

“Shh… we’re trying not to make a scene,” Sierra scolds him.

“Why would we make a scene?” a voice suddenly asks from behind me.

I don’t need to turn around to know Zayn is here.

Not just because I recognize his voice, but because my body recognizes his presence too. It reacts to him every single time, without fail.

I don’t know why, but suddenly I feel restless. Irritated, even. By something I can’t quite understand.

One hand resting on the back of my chair, Zayn takes the seat beside me, though there’s something restrained in the way he settles into it, as if he’s deliberately avoiding my eyes.

Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m reading too much into his behavior. He’s probably just as frustrated as the others after spending the entire evening answering endless questions and entertaining people.

Smiling, I lace my fingers through his and lean slightly into him.

He bends down and presses a soft kiss to my hair. For a brief moment, I catch the faint trace of a new perfume.

But when I inhale again, it’s gone.

Jesus.

Maybe my fears are starting to become stronger than reality.

“We were hoping to leave without being noticed,” Ryan explains. “And Noah’s about two seconds away from losing his mind if he has to stay another hour.”

“Same here,” Aiden admits. “Instead of enjoying themselves, everyone’s trying to see if they can squeeze out another business opportunity.”

“Like every other event like this,” Nick says dryly.

For the next half an hour, the conversation drifts between different topics before eventually circling back to the press and how desperate they are to publish absolutely anything.

I keep stealing careful glances at Zayn, trying to convince myself I’m imagining whatever feels different about him.

Everyone has moments when they’re off. Distracted. Lost in their thoughts.

He keeps me tucked against him, touching me the same way he always does, and none of it feels forced.

So I decide to ignore every warning bell going off inside my head and simply enjoy the evening with all of them.

“Let them write whatever they want,” Noah says lazily. “We can have any article removed in seconds anyway. And if they cross the line, we’ll shut their agencies down.”

Judging by their expressions, everyone agrees with him.

I already knew they were powerful, but hearing Noah say it so casually makes me realize they operate on an entirely different level than I imagined.

I expected them to control most of what gets written about them, but apparently, they don’t just want to control—they have the power to erase anything they dislike without leaving a trace.

And when you live at this level, I suppose that kind of control becomes necessary.

“I really think it’s time to leave,” Colt says, setting his glass down.