“You can drop the act, Idol,” God said as he entered the workout room, his voice calm but carrying the weight of authority it always did. “We’re alone.”

I exhaled heavily, pulling the tie from my hair and letting it fall around my face, framing the sly grin forming on my lips. Accepting the towel God handed me, I muttered, “Thanks,” and avoided his probing gaze. Instead, I let my mind wander, replaying moments with Song, the way he’d thrown me off balance with his unexpected boldness. The taste and feel of him - intoxicating.

God studied me, his expression unreadable. “You’ve been in an unusually good mood lately,” he said, his tone neutral but edged with curiosity. “And trying to hide it. Two weeks ago, you took forever to pick up a new microphone and came back grilling Milk about new employees.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said with a shrug, trying to sound convincing, but the words came out thin, even to me.

“A few days ago, you disappeared for hours,” God continued, undeterred. “When you came back, you were practically glowing. Even King noticed something was up, and he’s oblivious to anything not about himself.”

“You’re overthinking,” I replied, taking a swig from my water bottle, though I knew it was futile to dodge God’s scrutiny. His ability to read people was infuriating at the best of times.

God sighed, his patience beginning to wear thin. “I saw you staring at that kid the other day—outside, past the crowd. Do you even know who he is?”

His words cut through my nonchalance, but I refused to show it. “Of course, I know,” I answered, annoyance creeping into my voice. I had done some research.

God turned fully to face me, his gaze drilling into mine. “I don’t think you do. That kid—Song—was top of his class at graduation. His talent is extraordinary. Companies were vying for him before he even finished his first year at university.”

I frowned but quickly masked it. I hadn’t known all of that. My so-called research had been limited to piecing together his name and figuring out his role in the company.

“Song’s a genius,” God continued, his tone sharpening. “Far more valuable to the company than you are. They let him do whatever he wants because they know he’s worth it. He doesn’t even make pop music because he doesn’t like it. I was planning to convince him to produce a song for us, but if you’re messing around—”

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, cutting him off. “Messing around? Who’s messing around?” The accusation irritated me, but I knew better than to argue. God wouldn’t drop this.

“And don’t get me started on Coco,” he added, visibly shuddering. “If she finds out, she’ll eat him alive.”

I barked out a surprised laugh. “Coco’s harmless,” I said dismissively. “She knows we’re never going to be anything more than friends.”

God wasn’t amused. His tone turned stern, his usual patience fraying. “Idol, are you really going to risk your career—and his—for some momentary fun?”

I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. It was a valid question. We were at the peak of our careers, a time when one misstep could derail everything. But Song was different. There was something about him that pulled me in, like a flame drawing a moth. How could I resist, when the reward was so sweet?

Bobbing my head in reluctant resignation, I met God’s gaze. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll talk to him the next time I see him.”

“Good,” God said, relief softening his features. He clapped me on the shoulder. “Now go shower. We’ve got a concept meeting in thirty.”

God headed out first, bowing slightly as Milk entered the room. “Meeting, I know,” he called over his shoulder. “Showering now!”

Milk watched him leave, shaking her head with a small smile before turning her sharp gaze on me. “Shouldn’t you be heading out too?”

“Hey, Milk,” I said as I approached her. “I need a favor.”

Her expression turned wary as she crossed her arms. “Depends.”

“I need you to come to a party with me on Thursday,” I said, clasping my hands together in mock pleading. “Please, Milk. I’ll owe you big time.”

Milk raised a skeptical brow but didn’t immediately refuse. “What kind of party?”

“A private birthday party,” I assured her. “No fans, no chaos.”

She rolled her eyes but sighed in defeat. “Fine. But the second anything goes wrong, we’re out. No arguments.”

“Yes! You’re the best, Milk,” I said with a grin.

“Go shower,” she said, shooing me toward the showers. “We’ll be late for the meeting.”