Chapter One

Kaiden

November

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

Shit. I throw myself against the wall, keeping my body carefully obscured in the darkened recesses of the old gym as a beautiful blonde peeps around the corner, her expression screwed up as if she expects to be kidnapped at any moment.

Laura Groves. The curvy little bombshell currently taking Hollywood—and the world—by storm. The girl is a fucking knockout. My heart slams against my ribcage, my cock swelling against the confine of my jeans. It's late November, cool even by California standards, yet sweat trickles between my shoulder blades as I stare at her.

I have her generous curves to thank for that.

She isn't reed thin like most starlets in this town, starving herself to fit some ridiculous standard of beauty that no one could measure up to without a whole lot of movie magic and thousands of dollars to throw into the endeavor. She has meat on her bones. And eyes green enough to shame the brightest emerald.

"Oh," she whispers, coming to a dead stop when she sees me skulking in the shadows.

"What are you doing here?" I growl, not stepping forward to meet her. I don't hide to frighten her. Thanks to the nasty scar across the right side of my face, most women in this town look at me in revulsion or pity. They shrink away as if they expect me to try to snatch them off the streets…or whisper behind their hands as if my scar somehow prevents me from hearing what they say about me. As far as I'm concerned, one reaction is just as bad as the other.

I may look like a nightmare now, but I was one of them. Funny how quickly people in this forget when you're no longer useful to them. As soon as my star faded, I became persona non grata to all but a few.

"Um, hi." Laura lifts one hand in a self-conscious wave. Not that she has anything to be self-conscious about. Jesus, she's the brightest little star in this town.

"I'm looking for Kaiden Huxley. Jackson Reed said I could find him here."

"You found him."

She blinks long, sooty lashes, briefly hiding her eyes. I want to gnash my teeth as soon as her gaze leaves me for that split second. The feeling isn't rational, but it's there all the same. There's something pure in her eyes, something untouched. That's rare in this town.

It's a tale as old as time. Bring an innocent girl to this town, and it'll chew them up and spit them out in short order. Not this one. Even after a decade, she's still fresh-faced and innocent, still filled with a sense of wonder. She's an anomaly, the rare woman who never hardens or grows jaded or bitter no matter what this town throws at her. And it's thrown a lot of shit her way, thanks to those generous curves.

"I'm Laura Groves," she says.

"I know who you are." How could I not? She's been a fixture in the film industry since she was sixteen. Her beautiful face has graced the cover of every magazine and gossip rag from here to India. She's been one of Hollywood's It girls since right after my accident…and yet she clings to innocence and grace as if it's an ingrained part of her. No matter what they throw at her, she meets it on her feet with her head held high and a smile on her face.

"Oh." A question bobbles on her lips before she fights it back.

I desperately want to demand she ask it. I want to know what she's thinking. But I resist the urge. The less I know about this girl, the better. Pretty little stars like her aren't for washed-up has-beens like me. Maybe in another life, I would have asked that question. I would have listened to the voice screaming for me not to let this one out of my sight.

In another life, I might have been someone worthy of listening to that voice.

That was a long time ago.

Once upon a time, I was the most sought-after stuntman in Hollywood. I was fearless, capable of pulling off stunt sequences others wouldn't even dream of attempting. An on-set accident several years ago changed all of that. Save for the people who were there that day, no one knows what happened. In a town where gossip reigns supreme, rumors fly hot and fast, but not even a whisper of the truth has slipped past loose lips. All anyone knows for sure is that I was gravely injured.

No one knows that the lead actor lost his mind when he discovered the director was trying to fuck his seventeen-year-old baby sister. He drove his truck through the director's trailer. And I was the unlucky bastard in said trailer at the time.

I spent months in the hospital being carefully stitched back together. The first two years were an endless parade of surgeries, skin grafts, and rehab. It felt like living my childhood all over again…sidelined by something I didn't choose. Back then, it was a heart condition.

This time was worse.

By the time they finally cleared me to resume my everyday life, my career was long over. The things I once did with ease were no longer possible. The life I'd built for myself was just fucking gone. People who once worked side by side with me couldn't stomach looking at me. The whispers and jokes were endless.

Jackson Reed, my business partner, took on the brunt of the work. I faded into the background, training stunt doubles to do what I used to do. Every once in a while, an actor will seek me out, wanting to learn what I know, but those instances are few and far between. Most don't want to risk their pretty faces when those pretty faces make them millions.

I can count on one hand the number of times a woman like Laura Groves came looking for me. Those who did took one look at me and never returned. In a city where physical beauty is the golden standard, I'm a walking, talking reminder that the clock runs out on everyone eventually.

"Why are you here, Laura?"

"I need you," she blurts.

A menacing growl erupts from my lips before I can call it back. Fuck, I want to hear her say that while she's spread eagle on my bed and her first orgasm still coats my tongue.

"Say that again," I demand, even though I know she doesn't mean it.

"Um, I need you?"

I step toward her, compelled by the throb in my cock from my hiding place. Yes, I'll give her what she needs. I'll fuck her right and proper, let her make a mess of my back with those pretty nails. Whatever she needs.

She isn't short, yet I tower over her, dwarfing her. Christ, my sheer size eclipses her like the moon swallowing the sun. She doesn't shrink from me, though. There's strength in this innocent little starlet, courage that goes bone deep.

"What does a girl like you need with a man like me, princess?"

"Your scar," she gasps, her green eyes filling with distress.

I flinch, taking a step back as her reaction cools the fire running through my veins. "Doubt that's what you need from me."

She shakes her head, her cheeks turning pink. "I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. I didn't realize…." She trails off into awkward silence. I can practically see her fighting the urge to squirm from foot to foot in her thousand-dollar heels. "I'm so sorry. I promise I'm not usually so rude. You just caught me off guard."

"I'm used to it," I rasp. "Most of you react the same way when you first see me." I rake my gaze over her, hot and predatory. She's so fucking pretty. Does she know how badly I want to put my filthy hands all over her? "Your world is glitz and glamour, not scarred old relics."

"My world is faker than a can of spray tan," she mutters.

One dark brow rises, pulling the edges of my scar taut.

"You were injured in a stunt."

My face falls into a scowl. As far as the world knows, that's precisely what happened. That's the story we all told. We certainly didn't do it to protect Alastair McDonald, the director. His predatory ways were revealed long ago. He was one of the first to be tossed into a cell when women in Hollywood started speaking out. I popped a bottle of champagne that night. But Damen Montero and his little sister deserved protection. Had Marissya been my sister, I would have driven a truck through McDonald's fucking trailer too.

"Sorry." Laura grimaces. "I'm nosy. And nervous."

"I make you nervous."

"Yes," she admits, slipping her hands into her coat pockets to hide the way she fidgets with her fingers. "You're a legend. I've heard stories about you since I came to Hollywood. But no one told me that you're so…."

"Uncouth? Hideous?" The left corners of my lips turn up in a sardonic smile.

"Sexy," she blurts.

I throw my dark head back, a burst of rusty laughter escaping my lips.

"I don't appreciate being laughed at," she growls, scowling up at me.

I slowly tip my head down to look at her. "And I don't appreciate being played for a fool," I growl. "Whatever you want from me, you don't need to butter me up to get it."

"You think I'm lying to you to get my way?" She gapes at me, her plump lips parted in shock.

"Wouldn't be the first time."

Indignation stiffens her spine. "You don't even know me."

"Like I said, most of you react the same."

Her face turns red with fury, her emerald eyes shooting sparks in my direction. She opens her mouth to issue a scathing retort and then bites it back before she can give it a voice. Something shifts through her eyes too quickly for me to read, but her expression falls. So do her shoulders. My little starlet deflates like a balloon.

Is she acting, or did I hurt her feelings?

When tears well in her eyes, I have my answer.

I rub one hand along my jaw and curse. "Are you crying?"

"No."

"You are, aren't you?"

Her withering glare confirms my suspicions. She is crying. And I'm an asshole.

She whirls around, giving me her back. I stare at her, not sure exactly how we ended up here. Or why she's here at all. Or how to fix it. But I'm all but positive that I fucked up.

"I don't know what's sadder, Kaiden," she finally says, speaking quietly. "The fact that you don't know how damn sexy you are, or that you've let this town reduce your sense of self-worth based on something that happened to you. With or without that scar, you're still a legend. Anyone who treats you as anything less than that isn't worth your time."

"Don't pity me, Laura."

"Pity you? I'm mad at you," she sniffs, making me want to smile. "The Kaiden Huxley I heard so much about wouldn't give a damn what anyone thought about him. He certainly didn't when he was doing things everyone said couldn't be done."

"How do you know so much about me?"

She shrugs noncommittally. Interesting. Laura Groves is not like any starlet I've ever met. This one is…mine. Fuck, that's not what I meant. And yet, it's precisely what I meant.

"What do you need my help with, princess?" I ask, my voice softer, gentler. It's still gruff and gritty, but there's nothing I can do about it.

"I need you to spend Thanksgiving weekend with me," she blurts, shocking me to the core.

Did she come here to ask me to spend the weekend with her? My cock throbs, pounding out my answer against my zipper. I think my fucking heart does too. Yes, yes, yes.

She turns to me, her face screwed up like she's ready for war.

"Don't say it if you don't mean it," I growl, the only warning I'm capable of giving her. Don't invite me into your life if you're just going to kick me out again later. Because once I'm in, I'm not fucking leaving, princess. You'll be mine. I won't let you go.

"I told you that you don't know me." She sashays toward me, putting a slight sway in her hips that has me fighting for my damn life, and pats me on the chest. "If you did, you'd know I mean exactly what I say."

I reach for her with a groan, desperate to get my hands on her.

She steps out of my reach, smiling brighter than the fucking summer sun.

Just that easily, my heart falls into her hands.