Page 51 of Before You Fell

“Your face is doing that thing.”

“My face is famous,” I say. “It does a lot of things.”

“This one says you are two seconds away from dragging Memphis Cross outside to teach him why dental plans matter.”

I take one of the drinks. “I don’t give a shit about Memphis.”

Cruz snorts. “Sure.”

I shoot him a glare.

Cruz only grins wider. “Don’t piss on the carpet unless you plan to claim her properly.”

“Shut the fuck up.” I turn my attention back to the fuckhead who is talking to Willow.

Memphis leans in again.

That’s it.

My glass hits the nearest table harder than it needs to, champagne sloshing over the rim because apparently even my drink knows when to get out of my way. I move before the smarter part of me can pretend it still has a vote.

“Phoenix,” Cruz calls behind me.

I ignore him.

“Stone,” he says, sharper this time.

I keep walking, eyes locked on the asshole with a death wish, because the pretty little fucker has spent long enough breathing near anything that is not his.

The crowd parts for me. People shift, smile, reach, offering themselves in little pieces as if touching me might make them interesting. Someone says my name. Someone else drags a hand along my arm. A camera flashes.

I give them enough Phoenix Stone to keep them wet and grateful without slowing them down.

By the time I reach the bar, Memphis is saying something in a low voice and Willow is looking up at him, that faint smile still on her lips.

Mine, some fucked-up part of my brain says.

“Memphis Cross,” I say, sliding into the conversation with enough charm to make murder seem casual. “Didn’t know Damon had started letting solo acts into these things. Must be nice having no one onstage to prove you’re the weakest link.”

Memphis turns, and to his credit, he doesn’t flinch. His gaze flicks over my face, then to Willow, then back to me.

“Phoenix Stone,” he says. “I was beginning to think the screaming near the entrance was a weather event.”

I let my gaze linger on him, slow enough to be rude. “Cute. Did you rehearse that in the mirror or does the label write all your little jokes now?”

His mouth curves. “Only the good ones.”

“Shame they held those back.”

Willow’s eyes cut to mine.

Cold already.

Good. At least she is looking at me now.

I clap Memphis on the shoulder. Friendly enough for anyone watching. Firm enough for him to understand the subtext. “Heard your last track. Didn’t hate the first ten seconds.”

His brows lift. “That almost sounded painful for you.”