"Ashton..." I whispered, the name slipping from my lips, raw and shaky—the name I’d repeated silently to myself a thousand times before.

But he didn’t even flinch.

Karl, still holding me steady, let out a low chuckle. "That’s not Ashton Drake. That’s Dorian Steele—the headliner." He gestured for the man to step forward, and without hesitation, the guy hopped off the stage.

"Mr. Murphy," he said, nodding politely to Karl. ...