Chapter 1

ONE

M ore dahlias arrive, and I stare at them with a sigh. I don't know how he got my address, but he has friends in high places. Kage is an up-and-coming rock star, and for some reason, he has set his sights on me.

Fool.

Tossing them in the trash, I walk farther into my house without an ounce of regard for the beautiful flowers that have shown up every single day since I turned him down at that awards show. Maybe it should bother me that I don't feel anything anymore, but that icy numbness is better than pain.

I am simultaneously empty and too full at the same time. My entire existence is a juxtaposition. I can never quite fully breathe, yet I am numb. I sing about love and hope, yet I have never felt anything but despair and pain.

Maybe I should start at the beginning and why they call me the ice queen.

Why I can't trust the man sending the flowers . . .

Why I became the way I am . . .

A year ago . . .

I am expected to be okay, but no one cares if I'm not, so I grit my teeth and suffer alone, knowing that one day, it will be too much. They will care then, and that makes me so angry, I want to scream. I want to rip their perfect illusions to shreds, but instead, I sip the overpriced Champagne and force a smile onto my face. No one looks under the surface. My chest tightens by increments with each short, sharp breath, and the room is closing in. My clothes are too tight, and my skin is too hot.

I feel it all and nothing.

I am alive but not living.

I am just moving through life, trying to make myself as small as possible. I feel like I don't belong, as if I don't have the right to take up space in a body that doesn't feel like it fits.

Part of me hates everyone, while the other part of me begs for them to notice me.

Maybe someone will care someday, or they won't and I'll be stuck here, screaming inside, forgotten and alone where I belong.

I'll be left with the other relics of the past people chose to ignore.

I shake myself from my thoughts, and then I see him.

He shines as he walks around the tables and sits at my side. His face is familiar, and I can't remember why, but suddenly, I can breathe again. I can feel, and I just stare.

It's another awards show. I don't even know why I'm here other than it was better than being alone at home, trying to pretend everything is fine.

He grins at me as he turns to see me watching him, and it's like my eyes clear when I see the devastatingly handsome man sitting next to me. His hair is black and swept artfully back—not too short, not too long. His perfect skin covers high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. His eyes are dark and deadly looking. I see tattoos peeking from his suit, but I force myself to stop looking. There are a lot of attractive men here, and tall, dark, and handsome isn't in short supply—not with the money they spend to look that way, even if there is something different about this one .

"Hi, I'm Kage. You're Fallon."

"How astute," I retort. My cutting attitude is enough to deter most people, but his expression doesn't falter. If anything, his smile grows, his eyes twinkling as he leans in.

"I've been called many things, but that's a new one."

I offer him a tight smile and force my eyes away as the awards show begins. I want to slouch, but I remember my extensive training and force myself to sit taller, holding my Champagne like a shield and giving my hands something to do.

I feel Kage lean closer, but I don't glance his way. "Where's your boyfriend tonight?"

"Husband," I correct, peering at him. This close, he has beautiful golden flecks in his eyes, so different from my cold ones.

"That's the one." He aims a rakish, crooked smile at me.

Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention back to the stage. "He didn't want all the attention." He hates it. He hates the cameras and the fans. I loved that at first, that he hated everything as much as I did, but now it just annoys me. I might not feel much when I'm with him, but at least he was a buffer, an excuse. Now, he seems to avoid these things as much as possible. I might be a cruel bitch, but I love my job and singing, and I want to support new singers in a way I never was, so I'm here, alone, being hit on by the playboy of pop/rock.

Yes, I know who he is even if I'll never admit it, nor the fact that his woodsy scent wraps around me.

When his mouth nearly touches my ear as he leans in, my heart pounds for the first time in a very long time. "No offense, beautiful, but that's a pile of shit. You need to be showed off and have someone who shines with you, not holds you back. You shouldn't settle for someone who isn't willing to love you at your brightest."

"And what would you know about that?" I snap, growing annoyed. He isn't saying things I haven't already told myself, but it's annoying that he's seen them. Why did he notice that? How closely has this man been watching me?

"A lot. I'll show you if you'll let me." He smirks, his eyes heating as they sweep down my body .

"Are you forgetting my husband?" I point out the ring on my finger, the one I bought since he was struggling for money when we first met. That was another thing I liked, being in power and knowing he was dependent on me, not the other way around. It meant I had a hold on him. Toxic, I know, but it's a lesson learned.

"I don't see him here, but if you tell me you're really happy in your marriage, then I'll back off. I'll wait," he murmurs, his eyes only for me despite our surroundings, and I'm sucked into the aura that surrounds him despite everything.

"Wait?" I repeat.

"Wait." He nods, leaning in until his mouth is pressed against my ear. "Wait until you're done with him, tired of him, and toss him aside, and then I'll be right here, waiting."

I snort, a sound I never make, and my heart spasms at his words. He's implying I'll end my marriage, which I don't think I ever will. Despite the coolness between us now, I genuinely care for Gerald. Maybe not as deeply as one should for their husband, but still, it's more than I've ever felt before.

I might even love the man, if I were capable of that.

I should say all that, but instead, something else slips out. "What makes you think I would ever give you a shot?"

"Because, baby, I'd be so fucking good to you. I've been waiting for a chance to meet you . . . to love you."

"You're insane," I reply since we just met. "Besides, I don't do love."

"Then I'll love enough for both of us." He shrugs casually, like talking about loving me, a married stranger, is totally normal.

What is this guy's deal?

He seemed so sane online and in interviews. He's filled with life, love, and passion, everything I'm lacking.

"That will only get you a broken heart," I retort rather than ignoring the crazy bastard grinning at me like I'm the best thing he's ever seen. It's not the usual obsession I see in fans or men. He's not wondering how quickly he can get into my pants, although desire is there, and he's not reaching for my fame or my money. He's looking at me, truly looking at me, as if he sees all the way to my bitter, broken core and likes it. There is pure want in his eyes, obsession, as if nothing else in this world exists but me and my words.

It's addictive and slightly terrifying.

"Then break it," he urges, still smiling. "Fucking smash it to pieces, sweetheart. I'll thank you for it."

"You're fucking insane." I laugh, shaking my head as I clap along with everyone else.

He leans in once more, his eyes only for me. "You have no idea, Fallon, but you will."

Trying to shake Kage is like trying to avoid the paparazzi. He's everywhere I turn. During the awards show, he flirted until I made my escape, and now he's heading toward me at the after-party. I quickly make my getaway, saying goodbye to Beck Danvers, a new rock star who is genuinely kind, but on the way home, all I can think of are his eyes.

His promises, wicked looks, and lustful glances.

Despite the situation, my hand sneaks under my dress in the back seat of my car.

My head falls back as I slide my fingers across my pussy, rubbing my clit. My back arches slightly as I widen my legs.

It's wrong, and the ring on my finger catches on my panties as I slip my fingers deeper inside and stroke my cunt, feeling the wetness gathered there. His face fills my mind, along with his obsessed eyes as I gasp, circling my throbbing clit.

Lust pours through me, and I've never felt anything like it before.

My back arches in the leather seat, and my teeth dig into my lip to stifle my moan of pleasure as I dance toward my release. I see his wicked eyes watching me in my mind and imagine his hand snaking under my dress and replacing mine, demanding my pleasure .

"That's it, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me worship you."

I almost scream as I come harder than I ever have before, and when I pull my shaking fingers out of my panties, I stare down at the slickness there in embarrassment.

Shit, what's wrong with me?

"We are back, Miss Fallon." The voice comes through the divider. Fuck, did my driver hear me? Oh well, he gets paid enough.

Without a word, I slide from the car, watching the iron gates close as they seal me into my mansion once more. I don't even spare the white-and-brown exterior of my estate a glance. Most of the lights are off, but the door is unlocked.

"Good evening, Miss Fallon." I nod absentmindedly at the staff and head up one side of the staircase to the second floor. My heels click down the hall, the wooden floor that was hand-carved just for me taking the brunt of my shame and anger as I reach the open double door of my room.

I head straight to the bathroom adjacent to my room, kicking off my shoes, dress, and jewels as I go without care. I unbind my hair as I step under the spray of the shower, letting it wash away Kage's woodsy scent, which I can still taste.

I have to scrub my body twice, and when I'm done, I slip into a lace cami set and pad across the plush gray carpet toward the king-sized bed that is the main feature in the room.

One side of the bedding is made, while the other is wrapped around my sleeping husband.

I slide in next to him, turning to him in the dark, my hand tracing across his chest and lower.

He rumbles. He's awake then, not asleep.

He doesn't ask about the awards show or my night. Instead, he captures my hand and pulls it up, pressing it to his chest and holding it. "Not tonight."

That's all he says.

Not tonight.

I turn over, giving him my back as my eyes connect with the moon, which seems to shine just for me outside of my arched windows, showcasing the estate I proudly bought for its opulence. It's just another fuck you to my father.

Now, though, it feels too big and empty.

"I'd never let you go."

His words chase me into fitful dreams.