I exhale slowly. Darby’s still talking, but my focus is elsewhere now.
I tear my gaze away from Sebastian and glance back at Darby. She’s watching him too.
Damn it.
“He’s hot,” Darby murmurs.
I simply nod. Calling Sebastian Tate hot is like calling the Pacific Ocean big—technically true, but nowhere near enough to capture the sheer magnitude of it. Sebastian doesn’t just turn heads. He commands attention, and not just when he’s rocking onstage. He’s the kind of man who walks into a room and alters the atmosphere, makes the air heavier, hotter, charged with something electric. Looking at him toolong feels dangerous, like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing full well I’m about to fall.
And I know a lot about falling.
“What’s his story?” Darby continues.
“He’s a rocker. You know that.”
“Right, but you know what I mean.”
“Do I?” I raise an eyebrow at her. In truth, I don’t have a clue what she means. If she’s not here to marry a billionaire, why would she care what Sebastian’s story is?
She smiles. “You, then. What’s your story?”
Sure, I have a story. A story I’ll never tell.
“What you see is what you get,” I reply.
Darby doesn’t pry, which I appreciate. Instead, she tilts her head slightly. “Then what’s your angle?” she asks.
I chuckle. “Angle? Is that another way to ask for my story?”
“No, not exactly. You’re here for a billionaire, right?”
“That’s what they say.”
She studies me for a moment. “And what doyousay?”
I glance over at Sebastian. “I say a woman can have more than one reason for being here.”
Darby smiles. “Fair enough.”
Something about Darby intrigues me. I’ve learned to read people in my line of work. After all, a hairstylist is a therapist in many ways. I’ve learned to trust my intuition, and right now, it’s telling me to tread carefully.
Darby is too observant, too calm. She’s here, but she doesn’t need to be. She didn’t come to snag a billionaire.
Or did she?
I don’t trust her. Hell, I don't trust anyone.
But I think I like her.
Before I can push further, a shadow falls over us.
“Enjoying yourselves?”
I know that voice.
I turn slightly, looking up into Misty’s piercing blue eyes.
“You’re back,” I say.
