Hank pointed toward one of them. “That one—Vincent. His father saved my life overseas years ago. The kid always wanted to be a star, so I helped get him into an agency. He earned the rest himself.” Hank’s tone held genuine respect. “He made it.”
Loyce looked where he was pointing.
Right then, Vincent caught the VIP section’s eye-line and tossed a deliberate wink—pure temptation, like it had been practiced in a mirror. But what stood out wasn’t the wink.
It was the way his gaze lit up when it landed on Hank.
He danced harder afterward, like he was performing *for him*.
Alright. She could admit it: these men were dangerously good at what they did.
Loyce reached for the glow stick placed beside her seat, then handed it to Hank with a straight face. “I think you need this more than I do. He’s flirting with you.”
Hank snapped back instantly. “Don’t talk crap. I’m straight as steel.”
Their sibling banter disappeared into the ocean of screaming fans.
But not everyone missed it.
In a nearby VIP pocket, a woman in oversized sunglasses watched them with razor focus.
Yolene—a newly crowned it-girl, famous for her innocent look and one breakout streaming drama—was here as a special guest, scheduled to join the final number as a dance feature.
Her glasses hid most of her face, but her lips were pressed tight and her jaw tense with anger.
She knew Hank.
Or rather, she’d tried very hard to.
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