Removing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his cheek, he says, “I’ll give you that one, but now you need to walk away and know she’ll be happy with me.”

Ivy’s cries turn into sobs.

“Ivy, angel, stop crying and come here.”

She doesn’t move.

“Ivy! Come over here so we don’t have to shout,” he commands, his eyes speaking to her in a language I don’t understand. She walks with trepidation toward him. She’s shaking and I know she’s scared. He takes her hand and I cringe, again trying to free myself.

“We have an announcement and you’re going to be the first to hear it. In fact, you can be the first to congratulate us. We got married today.”

Her face pleads with me for something—understanding, maybe—and the sudden pain that strikes my body is unbearable. I try to struggle free, but the adrenaline surge I had is gone.

She looks at me a moment longer before his barking voice commands, “Angel, tell him how much you missed me. Tell him how you begged me to forgive you, to take you back because you loved me. How much you regretted leaving me. Tell him how it took him to make you see I was right for you.”

“Damon, please stop,” she says to him, with tears streaming down her face.

My gut twists with disgust. “Ivy?”

Her body trembles.

Still unable to believe it, I finally ask, “Is it true? Did you marry him?”

She nods her head.

“Why?” I don’t even recognize my own voice at this point.

“Let it be, Xander,” she pleads.

I look around at the posh surroundings. “Does this have to do with money?” I ask her.

Her face turns to anger.

“You need money. Is that why you joined the band so eagerly? Is that what this was all about?”

“Yes,” she cries out, but for some reason I feel like she’s saying no.

Damon laughs. “Keep trying to figure it out and you’ll keep coming back to square one. Love speaks for itself. She just couldn’t stand to be without me. She loves me. Has for years. Her mother told me about you two when the picture surfaced and I’ve forgiven her for her slight misjudgment.”

I flinch. I’m the misjudgment? That makes me want to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths silently, and when our eyes connect for that one moment, I know she’s trying to tell me something. I know she is, but I can’t get any sound to come from my throat to ask what.

He grabs her hand and shoves the ring in my face. “I think your visit has lasted long enough. Ivy will be performing tonight and she should rest. We’ll discuss the rest of the tour tomorrow. Oh, and Xander, Johnny will be with her at all times.” He nods to Johnny, who drags me down the aisle of the bus.

“Ivy, talk to me,” I yell. “How could you do this to us?”

“Xander, this is how it has to be,” she says in a soft voice, covering her face with her hands.

Damon steps closer and she steps back. It’s clear that what he says is love is not. Why did she marry him? I don’t have a chance to find out anything more, because the muscle throws me out of the bus and I land on my ass. In a haze I stand up. Ivy married Damon Wolf? I puke right there as thoughts of his hands on her send me to the pits of hell and devastation careens through my body. Looking around, I see Leif, Garrett, and Nix staring in disbelief and I stare back with the same feeling.

“Fuck, man, let’s get you cleaned up,” Nix says, throwing my arm over his shoulder. I walk with him, pissed and confused about what just happened, but knowing it is far from over . . . knowing something isn’t right . . . knowing sure as shit that Damon must have something over her. Because there is no other explanation I want to think about.

CHAPTER 14

Underneath It All

Morning had stretched into afternoon and before I know it, it’s evening. I spent the morning trying to convince myself not to turn my back on her like I did before. She loves me—or I thought she did. Fuck, for twelve years I’ve been flirting around, never finding anyone else who could light up my soul like her. I never paid much attention to it, either. Then once she was back in my arms, it was all there—she was the one I’d always needed. She brings out parts of me I never thought I had. I had spent the afternoon talking myself down off the ledge—I wanted to kill him, with my bare hands, strangle every last breath out of him. But then who would win? I have to keep my cool.

We’re huddled together for our drink and a prayer. But no one is praying tonight. I regard them all steadily as I sit in a chair and lean over. My head throbs, my nose hurts—the painkillers Leif gave me are wearing off. I’m starting to feel more than a little bit agitated and annoyed. The show begins in minutes and she’s not here yet. What the hell is going on? Did I imagine what we had? Why would she marry him? The questions are on constant repeat in my mind and I feel like I’m going to puke again.

The feeling gets even worse when I hear Damon’s voice taunt me. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Fuck you,” I say, not bothering to raise my head.

They walk in together, with the ninja right beside her, but I already felt her nearness. My body has come alive and her presence gives me the strength I need. I flick my eyes toward her. She looks just as sad as earlier. I need to talk to her—alone. But it’s too late—the music sounds and the band is announced, so she makes her way onstage with the guys. Thank f**k Damon disappears, but he forgot the ninja and the guy stays front and center at the curtain.

Since backstage is as empty as I feel, I watch for a bit and then suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I’ll be back before the show ends. The outside air is hot, muggy, almost suffocating, and I try to block out everything as I make my way back to my small cubby on the bus. The walk feels like miles and when I look up toward the sky I see thousands of stars there to light my way, but the darkness is everywhere. The bus doors are open and John is asleep in his seat. I finally make it to my bed and throw myself down, then call my brother. I want to check on Dahlia, but when he asks me what’s wrong, I tell him. He tries to persuade me to keep my cool and not do anything stupid, but at the same time I’m sure he knows he’s talking to the wind. I want to kill that son of a bitch, I want to scream at Ivy and ask, “What the f**k are you thinking?” I want answers. And I’m going to get them.

An hour or so later I’m back in the empty area backstage and she’s announcing her last song. “How about ‘Sorry’ by Buckcherry?” she asks the crowd. They go crazy, like they always do whenever she sings a cover.

Vamping chords, then a wailing bass introduce the song. “I’m sorry I’m bad,” she croons into the mic with her eyes closed. Her voice goes even lower and she sounds raspy, beautiful, inspiring, as she continues with “I’m sorry about all the things he said to you.”

And there it is—he. She said he, not I, like the song is written. What the f**k is going on? She turns slowly, fixing her gaze on me. She swings the mic gently and she sings the song to me.

With each verse, her voice grows stronger and louder and the ache in it more pronounced. Her passion and the love heard within the lyrics of the song infect everyone in the audience, but no one more than me. I want to wrap my arms around her and feel her body against mine, tell her we can fix whatever it is he did. Because I know it’s something he did. This time I will take care of her—I will not set her free. She needs to know this. I have to tell her. And now I know I’ll do whatever I have to to get her back—I’m not going to let her go this time.

When the song ends, the crowd explodes. Whistles, cheers, and yells fill the air as she walks offstage toward me. Before she reaches me, Ninja steps between us. Her demeanor changes as she approaches. “Johnny, Damon said not to let him within five feet of me. But he didn’t say we couldn’t talk. I need to discuss our upcoming shows. I’m sure Damon would never jeopardize the performance.”

I’m actually impressed at the way she turns the charm on and works him. Shit, did she do that to me? No. Now I’m only second-guessing myself. My mind is so f**ked right now.

Ninja nods at her. Is he hot for her? I’m going to kill him right after I kill Damon Wolf. He steps back and I stay where I am. I consider grabbing her and making a run for it, but what good would that do. She’s married to the bastard.

In a low whisper she says, “Leave this alone, Xander. Leave us alone. I wanted to marry him. He makes me happy.”

Fury courses through me. My pulse races and my blood pounds.

“Why are you doing this?” I practically spit out the words, angry, repulsed.

“I’m not doing anything. Just move on. You’ve done it before. You can do it again.”

“Bravo. Bravo,” the bastard’s voice calls from behind me.

I turn around. I want to rip him into a thousand pieces and let him spend his days putting himself back together.

“Since we’re all here now, you’ll save me the time of having to call you tomorrow. Look, Ivy doesn’t need you to manage her—that’s my job,” he says, and his words rock my body with a jealousy I’ve never felt before.

Once I can focus again, I look straight at him and say, “I manage the band and she’s in the band, dickface.”

Ivy moves to stand next to him and he tries to grab her hand. If that happens, I know I’ll lose all control. Thank f**k she pulls her hand away. But she’s still standing beside him.

“Listen. Let’s make this simple. I see it like this. Your whole band is Ivy. Keep your name for now, since there’s less than six weeks left on the tour. But you need to disappear. I’ll give you until after Bristow to arrange it. We don’t need you around causing trouble and chaos. This is our honeymoon after all,” he says, this time wrapping his arm around her waist.

I rip my gaze from him in time to see the tears escaping her eyes, but I can’t feel anything right now but hatred. I fight the urge to tell them both to f**k off. I glare at her as she frees her body of any contact with him. I don’t want to leave, but I have to. I can’t take it. I can’t take his grimy hands on her. I can’t even think about his hands on her. I inch a step toward him, ready to tear his wagging tongue right out of his mouth, but the ninja is up my ass within a nanosecond. Like I didn’t see that coming. I shrug my shoulders and push past them both. I’ve had enough of this. Turning around, I walk toward the door. When I reach it, I punch it hard, wishing it were his face. The pain pulses through me and it feels like such a relief.

CHAPTER 15

Mirrors

Ivy

My ravaged eyes stare back at me in the bathroom mirror of the ridiculously glamorous tour bus. With a built-in coffeemaker, plush sofas, an enormously large shower, and even a vanity in the bathroom—it really is over the top. Damon insists we remain here and not in a hotel even though we’re not traveling for a couple of days. I’m sure he’s afraid I won’t keep my end of the bargain if I spend too much time with the band, too much time with Xander. But what I don’t think he really gets is that it’s my overwhelming love for Xander that pushed me to make this decision—my primal instinct to protect him from getting hurt, not my need for money.

Holding the can of spray near my hair, I suddenly feel faint. The memory of his piercing dark eyes fades in and out and I know I should sit down and put my head between my knees. But I don’t want to appear weak. I take a deep breath, spray my hair, and let the breath go. I wish I were stronger than I am—to stand up to Damon, but I can’t. Instead I close my eyes, hating myself. Hating myself for knowing him, for marrying him, for hurting the only man who understands me . . . who loves me for me.

Grinning, maybe gloating, Damon watches me put my red lipstick on. “Let’s go,” he says, snapping his fingers. “You’re going to be late and I flew her all the way here just to interview you so we could put some hype behind these performances. Next week you’ll meet with Mara and I’ll make sure it’s a double blast—Sound Music and Sound Entertainment together will really garner some attention.”