"Where the hell is that waiting room?" Karl grumbled as he stalked through the backstage area.
Having never competed in the festival himself, he'd never once had a reason to step foot back here. Now the entire place felt like a labyrinth designed specifically to waste his time.
Staff members visibly flinched whenever they spotted him.
Heads lowered.
Voices shrank.
People practically flattened themselves against the walls as Karl stormed past, his gaze darting left and right in search of a sign that read Waiting Room.
Five minutes of aimless wandering later, Karl rounded a corner and finally spotted a familiar figure emerging from a room halfway down the corridor.
Long, wavy honey-blonde hair.
Kaija.
Relief surged through him so quickly that he was ready to sprint toward her at full speed.
Then the man in the golden waistcoat stepped out behind her.
Karl's expression darkened beneath his sunglasses.
He knew Antony was her producer. Fine. Whatever.
