Isla didn’t move.
Not even when she saw Rowan step closer.
The noise from the crowd was still loud around them—people laughing, talking, replaying the performance—but right there, in that small space between the three of them, everything felt strangely quiet.
Rowan walked toward them slowly, his eyes fixed.
Not on the stage.
Not on the crowd.
On Isla… and Collins.
Collins noticed first. His relaxed expression faded, his shoulders straightening slightly as Rowan got closer. Isla felt it too—the shift, the tension, the way the air seemed to tighten.
Rowan finally stopped in front of them.
His gaze dropped briefly to where Collins’ hand had just been on Isla’s waist… then back up again.
A faint smile touched his lips.
“Did I interrupt something?” he asked.
His tone was light.
But
