Page 30 of Before Dawn

By the time I wrapped up at the office—confirming fleet checks and schedules, finalizing the start date for Alex’s new driver, and completing three back-to-back interviews withThe New York Times,The Washington Post, andUSA Today—I was ready to call it a day. But Dillon and Arnoldo had other plans, dragging me to a tech seminar at the Park Avenue Armory.

The moment we stepped inside, chaos erupted. Cameras flashed in relentless bursts, microphones shoved into our space as reporters shouted over each other for a comment. The air buzzed with desperation—like a feeding frenzy, each journalist trying to sink their teeth into the next big headline.

Arnoldo and I exchanged a glance. Unspoken agreement. We sidestepped, letting Dillon bask in the attention.

He thrived on this. Always had. My friends loved the glitz, the spectacle, the constant spotlight. I tolerated it. Avoided it when I could. Perfectionism made me my own worst critic, and the fear of saying the wrong thing—the wrong anything—kept me steering clear of the press. But escaping the spotlight was never truly an option.

“You’re practically hanging on the reporter’s every word,” I murmured to Arnoldo, watching the gleam in his eye.

“She’s good-looking,” he replied with an easy shrug, voice rich with indifference. “That’s all.”

I rolled my eyes. Right. Like it was ever just that with him.

Arnoldo’s reputation wasn’t just well-earned—it was legendary. Women gravitated toward him like moths to a flame, and he basked in their attention without hesitation or apology. It was an art form to him, one he’d perfected with alarming precision.

“Do you ever not think about sleeping with women?” I asked, only half-joking.

He shook his head, expression mock-serious. “All the time.”

I huffed a laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

His eyes widened in exaggerated shock, lips forming an amused ‘O’ before shifting his attention back to the reporter. The way she blushed under his gaze, the coy smile playing at her lips—it didn’t take a genius to figure out they’d already hooked up.

Dillon wrapped up his interview just as Arnoldo made his move. One hand on the small of her back, a few murmured words in her ear, and just like that, she was grinning like she’d won the lottery.

“He’s definitely fucked her,” Dillon muttered.

I didn’t disagree.

Arnoldo returned with a smug grin—one Dillon and I had seen a thousand times before. We exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the routine.

“You really have a way with the press, don’t you?” Dillon drawled, amusement flickering in his tone.

Arnoldo shrugged, unbothered. “Comes with the territory, Xander.”

Dillon smirked before I threw in a jab. “Manwhore.”

Arnoldo smirked. “At least I’m not alone.”

“Does sleeping around count as having company?” I quipped.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, then leaned in like he was about to share something profound. “And for the record, I don’t sleep around. I can admire a woman without wanting to fuck her.”

Dillon snorted. “That’s a first, and at least we don’t have to worry about catching anything.”

Arnoldo scoffed. “First of all, I get tested every three months. Second, I never go without protection. And third—” He pointed between us. “Both of you are single. Lucio and Alex are the only ones taken.”

“And Bryce,” Dillon added just to push his buttons.

Arnoldo groaned, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s barely our friend.”

Feigning innocence, I asked, “Why do you hate Bryce again?”

He exhaled sharply. “He’s reckless in business and, worse, ungrateful. What rich man complains as much as he does?”

“He’ll always be a distant friend,” I said, attempting to lighten the tension.

Arnoldo shook his head. “Let’s not forget he cheated on my former law student with the girl he’s now engaged to. And I know he’s cheating on her too.”

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