Kirsten flopped sideways on the sofa, shooting her a look. "Compared to that devastatingly handsome face of his, these guys do fall short."
Miles's appeal came from the inside out—that presence, that bearing. His looks were almost secondary.
Molly had sharp taste. Having snagged someone like Miles, of course everyone else seemed bland by comparison.
Molly flipped through the stack of résumés, pulled out four, and handed them over. "Your studio's talent auditions have turned into some kind of imperial consort selection."
"This selection is just for you. He never satisfied you anyway—let these four make up for your three wasted years."
Felix had been standing at the door for a while. Only after Miles stalked off with a thunderous expression did he push it open. "Molly, my brother wants to see you about something."
Molly blinked, confused. "Didn't he go home?"
The largest VIP room at the July Club was dimly lit, shadows mingling with silhouettes. Yet Molly spotted Miles immediately, seated in the center.