I laugh in his face. “You think I’m naïve? Are you mental? I’m a goddamn call girl, my parents are dead, and I’m engaged to Sean Ferro. There are no butterflies and unicorns in my hair, no ever-present smile on my face, so what makes you think you have the faintest idea of who I am and what I’m capable of?”

Our eyes are locked, and I refuse to break the stare first. He doesn’t know me, and that arrogance—the way he assumes I’m some spoiled brat that doesn’t know shit—is just wrong. “I’m not some rich brat from Long Island. You might think you know me, but you don’t. You don’t have the slightest clue what I’ve lived through, but I know what you’ve been through. I know that look on your face, I know we’ve been in the same depths of Hell. The difference between us is that I refuse to give up and you already have.” For some unknown reason I purse my lips and blow a puff of air in his face.

Trystan flinches and backs up. His mouth is pressed into a firm line and I know he wants to tell me off, but something holds him back. The guy says nothing. Instead, he gets up and moves to another chair and throws himself into it so one leg is hanging off the side without giving me a second glance.

Damn, maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but any guy whose constructed walls that thick has something going on. Behind all those suave smiles is a broken man. It’s impossible to miss because we’re the same, him and me. No wonder he doesn’t get along with Sean. It must be like looking in the mirror.

Sidney watches the exchange in uncomfortable silence. When Trystan walks away, and his back is to me, I go to stand—to say something else—apologize maybe—but Sidney touches my arm and stops me.

When I glance over at her, she shakes her head, and then changes the topic of conversation. “So, have you ever stripped?”

CHAPTER 7

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and smirk. “Yeah, it kind of goes with the occupation. Have you?” I feel Trystan look up at me, but he doesn’t say anything. Sidney blushes furiously and tries to hide her face. I laugh and bump her shoulder lightly. “I have an idea, come on.” I stand and grab her wrist.

Sidney squeals as I pull her to the back, “What are we doing?”

“Looking for the dressing rooms.”

“They’re back there,” she points down a hallway, and I pull her along with me. “Avery, what are we doing?”

“We’re going to strip. What else?” Okay, I might be a little more than tipsy because that came out totally wrong.

Sidney jerks her wrist away. “I’m not stripping in front of Trystan!”

“That’s not what I meant!” For some reason I start laughing because it seems really funny. I can picture myself on the stage and Sean walking in. I think he’d kill everyone. When I manage to get control of myself again, I put my hand on her shoulder. “No, let’s just grab some of their stuff and dance on the stage. It’ll be fun, and I think we both need some fun.”

We find a dressing room and put on men’s shirts and denim short shorts. I grab a top hat and Sidney grabs a feather boa. We head to the stage from behind the curtain and Sidney is laughing way too much. Her face is still bright crimson and she’s muttering the same words over and over again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

When we step out onto the stage, I raise my voice. “Hey, Trystan, hit the lights.” I hear him grumble, but the guy moves. A few seconds later some of the stage lights pop up so it’s not pitch black, and then a spot light appears. It’s so bright that I have to shield my eyes if I want to look for Trystan out there. “Thanks.” No one answers. Great, now he hates me, too.

“He’ll come around,” Sidney says, reading my thoughts.

I turn and look at her, offering a half smile. I glance at our outfits. The large men’s shirts cover the short shorts. I unbutton the bottom of my shirt and tie it under my boobs and tell Sidney to do the same. I expect her to protest, but she doesn’t. Music kicks on from somewhere and I smile. Sidney and I dance together for a little bit. She’s laughing and blushing like crazy. I tell her to slow down her moves and suddenly she’s dancing like a goddess. It’s awesome. The girl has no clue how sexy she is. Add the huge smile on her face and that long hair and no wonder Peter is crazy about her.

I stand there for a second, watching her dip her head back and sway her hips. She giggles and looks over at me. “I suck at this.”

“No, you don’t. You’re actually really good.” I laugh with her and say, “Watch this.” I head over to the pole and basically do the same dance. I feel the music pulse through me and don’t care who’s watching me.

Glancing over at Sidney, I see her swish her hair in a circle and copy the movement with her hips. She laughs and looks over at me just in time to see me grab the pole, and kick my legs up. I wrap my thighs around the cold metal and lock my ankles together, before releasing my hands, and hanging upside down. As I slowly slip down the pole I reach for the floor, and when my palms find a firm footing, I kick off the pole and land on my feet. I put my hands over my head like a gymnast and smile.

That’s when I hear Mel’s voice. “I leave you alone for a couple of hours and you start stripping?” I hear her heels hitting the hard floor as she walks toward us. “What the fuck is going on here?”

“Mel?” I shield my eyes and walk to the edge of the stage. Sidney stops dancing and Trystan stands up, ready to throw her out. I hop off and plow into her. Wrapping my arms around her, I say, “I’m so glad you’re all right. I thought you—” My jaw tightens and I can’t say the words. I can’t tell her that I thought I lost her.

“Who is this?” Trystan demands. He folds his arms over his chest and looks back at the door where the others are still talking, and occasionally yelling.

Mel escapes my death hug and rounds on him, ready to tell him off. “Don’t you go talking to me like I’m some…” Her jaw drops when she sees Trystan. Mel’s caramel eyes widen and don’t blink.

I poke her shoulder. “Mel, this is Trystan. He hates Sean.”

“So do I,” she mutters.

I say, “Yeah, well, then you guys have something in common.”

Trystan smirks, and then clarifies. “Why is she here?”

“Because I told her to come.”

Trystan sighs and looks up at the ceiling before running his hands over his head. “Great. Jon’s going to kill me. No one is supposed to be out here but me and Sidney, and I told his bouncer to go home. I assume Sean’s coming?” Trystan turns his gaze to me and I nod. “Great.” He turns and walks away, flopping back down onto the chair.

Mel is gaping and pointing. “That’s Trystan Scott.”

“I know. Are you all right? What happened?”

She doesn’t look at me. “That’s Trystan Scott. Like, thee Trystan Scott. Here.”

Oh my God. How cute. Mel is star stuck. She stands there like a twelve-year-old, practically giddy. I look her over and don’t see any gaping wounds. There’s no blood, and her brain has obviously left her body. “Listen, tonight kind of sucked. Grab a drink and join us on stage when you get over your whole boy band crush.”

“I’m not a boy band.” Trystan glares at me with his mouth scrunched to the side.

I smirk. “Of course not.”

Trystan’s lips twitch as he tries not to smile, or curse me out—it’s getting hard to tell which one. I walk over to our table and pour another shot for each of us, before walking it over to him. His long legs are sprawled over the arm of the chair like a surly teenager. I hold out the glass.

His dark eyes stare at the drink for a beat too long, but he finally takes it. “Just for the record,” he says, staring at the floor, “I admire you.” His gaze flicks up and he lifts his glass.

What changed? I’m not about to ruin it and ask him. Maybe he has rock star PMS. “Well, coolness.” I smile at him, sincerely this time, and look at my shot glass. “And just for the record, I’m a total fangirl. Your music is awesome, plus you have guts. So, I guess I admire you, too.” I lift my face so he’s looking right at me. “Truce? Or is it too late?” I hold out my hand, hoping he’ll shake it.

That smirk teases his lips into a full grin. “I couldn’t hate the future Mrs. Ferro, not when it’ll piss off Sean to know exactly how much I like you.” He laughs, clinks his glass to mine, and downs his drink. I do the same and head back to the stage.

As I pass Mel, she’s still staring at Trystan, muttering to herself. “Well, don’t just stand there, go say hi.” I smack her back towards him.

Mel walks over to him like he’s made of magic, as if the illusion will disappear if she moves too fast. Her voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Oh my God—it’s Trystan Scott.”

CHAPTER 8

Sidney and I are laughing hysterically, dancing on the stage, each of us with a drink in hand, when I feel eyes on us. Mel’s been blabbering at Trystan for the past half an hour, going on and on, rambling and poking him like he’s a mirage. It’s kind of funny. Nothing fazes her, but put a rock star in the room and she’s gone brain dead. Trystan takes it well enough. He just laughs and pats the arm of the chair and tells her to sit.

Then, two things happen at the same time. Mel’s spine straightens—I see her out of the corner of my eye—she’s a curve of shadow. And then, the rigidness turns to mush and she falls. I stop dancing and stare past her—there are also more shadows moving in the back of the room—people that I didn’t see before.

Trystan scoops up Mel and sets her down in his chair. “Avery, your friend didn’t even drink anything.” He looks up at me and then at the back of the room. “Hey, guys.” Even with my hand shading my eyes, I can’t see who’s back there, not past the glare of the spotlight.