Page 57 of Forbidden Billionaire Rockstar

“I worked hard to be here. I’d never jeopardize my career by forming a relationship with my client. He’s a sweet guy, but there’s nothing there aside from friendship.”

What I’d really love to say is that Trevor doesn’t get my heart racing the way Jace does. Trevor’s not the first guy I think about each morning I wake up or the last one I think about at night. My body doesn’t feel like it’s an inferno the moment Trevor locks eyes with me.

It’s nothing like that.

Something about Jace always catches my attention. Whether it’s the way he concentrates on the chords, he strums when he thinks no one is watching him, or how he clenches his jaw tightly when he’s angry.

I feel nothing but warmth when I find his gaze on me, even though I try my hardest to ignore it, and there’s no one else who can get that reaction from me.

No one else I want that reaction from.

The realization sneaks up on me. When did Jace become the standard against which I measure every interaction? And, more importantly, what am I going to do about it?

As we sit across from each other, the air between us feels charged, like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks. Every glance, every accidental brush of hands sends sparks flying. We're dancing around the elephant in the room, neither of us brave enough to acknowledge it.

I catch Jace's eye over the flickering candlelight. For a moment, I see a vulnerability there that matches my own. It's gone in a flash, replaced by a warm smile. But it's enough to make me wonder - what if we're both more invested in this than we're letting on?

The night stretches before us, full of unspoken words and possibilities. And as Jace's hand brushes mine as he reaches for the wine, I realize I'm not ready for this evening to end.Whatever this is between us, whatever it might become, I want to see it through.

Consequences be damned.

20

Jace

Throughout the rest ofour dinner, Mallory halts the conversation about Trevor and instead brings up random things.

Mallory’s laughter rings out, a melody that cuts through the restaurant’s ambient noise. As she regales me with tales of childhood milkshake competitions, I find myself envying the simplicity of her past. My own memories loom like shadows, a stark contrast to the lightness of her stories.

I learned that as children, she and Brent loved going to a diner in their hometown where they sold the best milkshakes, but she created a competition between the two of them to see who could come up with a better concoction. It doesn’t surprise me that Mallory normally won, although I’m willing to bet Brent always lets her because she’s simply younger, and I smile at the glimpse into her past.

Even though I’d love nothing more than to give her just as much, I don’t have as great of memories as she does. I was a disappointment for most of my life, mainly because of my lack of athleticism. It was always my father’s dream for me to end up playing on a pro sports team. He was never a man to be picky with which sport, and his frown only deepened with each year that passed, and I showed no signs of making it happen.

“What about you?” Mallory asks, cutting into my deep thoughts with a small smile. “I’m sure you’ve got some stories you could tell me.”

“Not exactly. Mine aren’t the happiest of memories.”

“Are you close with your parents?”

I shake my head and frown. “Not exactly. They support my career in the best way they can, and it’s just not what they wanted for me.”

“They never bothered to care what you wanted?”

Normally, this is where I would change the subject because I hate talking about my parents, but there’s a softness in Mallory’s gaze that has me clearing my throat to answer the question.

“I’m sure they cared, just not enough.”

The words taste bitter on my tongue. It’s a truth I’ve rarely voiced aloud, and sharing it with Mallory feels like steppingoff a cliff, exhilarating yet perilous. Her eyes, filled with understanding rather than pity, make me want to bare more of my soul than I ever have before.

“You said you fell in love with the guitar after receiving it as a gift. Who was the one that got it for you?”

The memory immediately floats across my mind, and I smile at it. “My grandmother, a few years before she died.”

“Were you close with her?”

“As close as one could be at a young age, she always tried to show me how proud she was when I didn’t get it from my parents.”

Mallory nods, then takes a sip of her wine before setting it back down. “I’m glad you had someone on your side. It must’ve been tough when she passed away.”

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