Prologue

Chapter 3: Prologue

Klein

I wanted to be a rockstar.

I wanted to stand in front of a screaming crowd, lost in music and emotions, while my name was screamed loud enough to make the crowd go deaf.

Sex, drugs, and rock and roll.

I wanted to experience it all. Wanted to lose control and become the kind of legend and warning generations that came after me would hold up as the standard. I wanted to live fast, die young, and gorge myself on all the debauched excesses money and fame could offer. I wanted my name known in even the most remote places in the world, and I wanted my face recognized by every single human I walked past.

They were big dreams. Lofty. Outrageous.

In theory, I should be closer to making those kinds of dreams into reality than the average guitar- loving band geek. My mother was a world-renowned opera singer. Her voice sounded like it had been gifted by the angels. She was one-hundred-percent Italian, but her talent and beauty meant she had been popular enough to travel around the world and perform in all the most famous and renowned places.

When I was little, she took me along with her for each and every performance. I was as familiar with the opulent and stunning insides of the Paris Opera House, as well as the one in Sydney, as I was with my current dorm room. Adding to the musicality of my family, my father just so happened to be a classical pianist. He was also incredibly talented. He was good enough that he'd worked with my mother on more than one project, which eventually led to them falling in love and bringing me into their highly musical world. It should've been a love story for the ages. I should be grateful my inherent talent came from two skilled and special people, but the reality was much grimmer.

Sort of like my actual chances of becoming a rockstar.

My father could never come to terms with my mother's unparalleled success. She simply outshone him in every way imaginable. For all intents and purposes, he was nothing more than her accompanist… her sidekick… her backup band. He never had the acclaim and accolades she did, and ugly, ravenous jealousy ate away at him. The envy and insecurity twisted him into a disgustingly unfaithful, and dismissive husband, and made him an entirely absent father. For a long time, my mother suffered in silence, even though his infidelity was the worst kept secret in the operatic world. She would repeatedly tell me that pain helped her art, that being broken-hearted was good experience for the stage. She must've been right, because the worse my father behaved, the higher her star seemed to rise.

It should've been apparent that anyone who rose so high was bound to fall just as fast.

I should've known just how emotionally unstable she was. I should've seen the warning signs, so I could’ve been a good son and prevented what happened. I was with her all the time and knew she was spiraling out of control. However, at the time, I was too young and too scared to know how to stop what was coming, or how to get her the help and support she needed.

My mother's glowing, glimmering star flickered and died in the worst way.

I was the one who found her after coming home from a guitar lesson one fateful day. She was in a marble bathtub in a ridiculously expensive hotel room in New York City. There was an empty bottle of pills on the ground next to her, and her favorite song was playing in the background. I knew there was nothing left to be done for her before I touched her icy, whitish-blue skin. I held her lifeless hand and started to cry.

My father never called to offer condolences. He didn't even bother to show for the funeral.

It couldn't be any clearer he had no remorse and took no responsibility for how our family ended up in the pitiful, tragic state it was. I hated him. I really, really hated him.

My mom was barely gone before the bastard tried to get me out of his way while he went to war with my mother’s legal team in order to access her fortune and my inheritance. He sent me off to a private school that was isolated in the middle of the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. He effectively forgot all about my existence once again. Luckily, my mom made sure my father couldn't touch a dime of her money. It was all mine. Unfortunately, nothing could be done when it came to getting me out of the boarding school until I graduated. According to my mother’s estate manager, sending me to Castle Pines hadn't been my father's idea, but something my mother wanted for me once she was gone. He simply went along with it because it meant I was out of his hair and he didn’t have to bother learning how to be a parent.

The school was so remote it kept all the horrible reminders of how I ended up there at bay. It was also filled with the top end of the world’s elite children, and it had one of the best music programs outside of Juilliard. Which was obviously why my mother wanted me to finish my education there. One of her mentors was in charge of the school choir and orchestra. My mother knew I wanted to be a musician, and even after she was gone, she did her best to make sure it was an obtainable dream. She couldn't take care of herself for shit, but she'd been the best mother I could ask for.

I was angry about every single day I didn't get to spend more time with her when I was younger.

I wanted to be a rockstar because of her.

I had the talent.

I had the looks.

I had the passion… and the pain.

I had the contacts, the legacy, the leg up so many others didn't.

What I didn't have, what held me back and crushed my dreams repeatedly, was the personality.

I wasn't charismatic and tortured like my mother.

I wasn't ruthless and heartless like my father.

What I was, was painfully shy and awkward.

Being an introvert didn't even begin to cover how reserved and quiet I was. I could barely speak when spoken to. I hardly managed to make eye contact. I was mostly silent and sullen, which never failed to come across as me being the world's biggest asshole. I didn't know how to act around people, and God forbid I had to perform in front of a crowd. The last time I'd tried, I'd thrown up all over the stage and nearly passed out at the microphone. It was embarrassing as hell and had been enough to keep me off any type of stage since.

All my insecurities and self-doubt were amplified by the fact I went to school with the best of the best. All the boys at this exclusive private school were from the wealthiest, most- famous, most- brilliant families from all around the world. My pedigree was pretty impressive, but it didn't hold a candle to most of my classmates. Eventually, everything I knew that made me special seemed like it faded away as I was overshadowed and outmatched in literally every way.

The only time I felt like I could express myself, or that I was seen by anyone was when I lost my temper with my roommates. They were the only ones I spoke my mind to. The only ones I showed any emotion to. They were the only ones who reminded me I was still alive, still breathing.

I would never admit it to anyone, but some days I picked fights with them on purpose. Because it was the only time that week, or even that month, I said anything to anyone.

Our dorm room was more like a fancy, well-equipped apartment. It had two big bedrooms, a massive, shared living space, a kitchenette tricked out in a way any chef would envy, and it was decorated with only designer furniture. I shared a room with a typical, muscle-bound, super-popular jock who was my polar opposite in every single way.

Theo Sandoval was as outgoing and friendly as I was quiet and prickly. He was friends with everyone and never seemed to shut up. He was also over-the-top confident and knew just how good looking and skilled he was. Castle Pines was boys only, but there was no shortage of cute girls at the local public high school and the other private schools in the area. They all seemed to come and watch him play baseball. He was an allstar. A gifted ballplayer who was one of the few students at Castle Pines here on a scholarship. He didn't have any type of pedigree or a trust fund, like most of us. But he didn't need it. The boy was talented and beloved by almost everyone.

Of course, I was achingly jealous of him. Of his ease. Of his carefree way of living. Of the way he brushed off everything that would bother a normal roommate, and refused to let me disappear into my own head when I went totally silent for days on end. When I pushed at him for no reason, he pushed back, but never hard enough I felt like I was going to break. It was a fine line to walk, but since we'd started rooming together, Theo was there on the other side of it, making sure I never crossed over too far to the dark side.

The other room in the dorm was occupied by a transfer student named Bash Lowell, and my forever nemesis Mac O’Shea.

When Bash first came to Castle Pines, I thought maybe we could be friends. He looked like the rockstar I wanted to be. He was tattooed in places that made it impossible to ignore him, and he had the kind of 'fuck-the-world' attitude all my favorite musicians seemed to be born with. His hair was dyed stark white, and his disdain for the stupidly rich and entitled brats that filled this school was evident. I thought his rebellious nature would make him stand out and force him to be outcast the way I was.

Much to my dismay, not even a week into the new semester, Bash caught the eye of the literal king of this particular castle. Edge Darby, the guy whose family founded and funded this fancy-ass school, fell in love, or lust, at first sight with my new roommate. So, any far-fetched ideas I had about getting close to him and finding an ally died a swift death. At Castle Pines, no one was richer, better looking, smarter, or more dangerous than Edge. Even though Bash seemed chill and easy to talk to, I wasn't going anywhere close to someone Edge claimed as his own. I had better self-preservation instincts than that.

Bash and Edge hooking up meant the room across the dorm often had an extra person staying the night, or that Bash was gone for days on end and crashing with his boyfriend. When he was occupied, it meant my third and final roommate made even more of a nuisance of himself than he usually did.

Theo got under my skin and riled me up in a lot of ways.

Bash made me feel sad and had me longing for things I had no idea how to obtain unless I got a personality transplant.

Malachi, or rather, Mac O'Shea, terrified me in ways I couldn't put into words. It wasn't because he was rumored to be the son of an actual mob boss. It wasn't because he was slick and slightly sinister. It had nothing to do with his lack of regard for personal space and privacy. Even his unabashed disregard for propriety didn't freak me out as much as his ability to see right through every wall I threw up and every single stony mask I wore.

I hated that it felt like every time Mac looked at me, he was seeing the scared kid who found his mother dead in the bathtub. The kid who knew in that instant the only person who ever loved him was gone for good. I swore he could see every fear and every regret I had etched on my soul. It was unnerving to be read so easily when so few words were exchanged between us.

I'd walked in on the fiery redhead in more compromising situations than I could count. The boy was as far from shy as one could get. Sometimes it felt like he was trying to desensitize both me and Theo to what it was like when two healthy, young men were intimate with one another. Theo seemed indifferent to it all. It wasn't like he wasn't out nailing his fair share of available tail. But for me, it made an already uncomfortable living situation feel even more tense and awkward.

Mac called me a prude, which I was. I mean, I liked a pretty girl as much as the next guy, but I would die before I could start a conversation with one. And since I'd been going to Castle Pines, I'd become educated to the fact that attraction respected no boundaries or borders. Gender was so much less important to identity and personality when the rest of the world wasn't watching. But, any kind of closeness, be it between bodies, minds, or hearts, freaked me right the fuck out, so I wasn't about to fall into bed with anyone, of any gender. I knew how badly love and affection could go. How fast it could turn on you, and what you could lose if you let yourself fall for the wrong person. All those fears I had, I could swear Mac felt them, and was doing his best to try and get me to face them in his own unrestrained way, even though I actively avoided his forceful friendship and fierce fondness for me. I didn't want him to care about me, and I absolutely wouldn't allow myself to care about him. Even if that meant living in a state of constant preparedness to face his legendary retaliation.

No one really knew if Mac had ties to an actual mafia family, but it was a widespread rumor that he was scary connected in all kinds of illegal ways. Regardless, the redhead was malicious and evil when scorned. So, it seemed highly probable he was familiar with knee-breakers and goodfellas.

Headed back to my dorm after a class on composition that had not gone well, I was lost in thought and worrying about the fact I'd just found out I was going to have to compose and perform my own song for my final in my music theory class, along with two others of my choosing. Making the song was easy enough, it was the performance for others that made me want to pull my hair out.

I didn't notice Theo barreling out of the front door of our dorm building as I was going in.

He was always moving quickly, always in a rush to be somewhere. He always had someone waiting for him, always had plans. He was moving fast and had his eyes on his phone, so he didn't see me. I tried to step out of the way of the heavy door but was a second too slow. The door caught my chin and cracked against my wrist as I lifted my hand to block the swing from slamming into my face. I had my guitar case slung over my shoulder, and Theo had his bat tote bag over his. The extra weight and shift in momentum sent us both tripping over one another and tumbling down the short flight of stone stairs at the front of the building. I felt my elbow crack against his face when I fell and heard him swear. The long end of his bag caught my cheek. The heavy bat inside thudding sharply against the bone, and roughly abrading the skin, made my head ring and my eyes water. It stung like hell, and I knew my face was going to look like I'd been dragged across a parking lot behind a truck.

I heard Theo swear again, and when we hit the ground, his chin snapped against the top of my head as he took the brunt of the fall. He grunted, the only sound I could hear for a second while we both caught our breath and tried to get our bearings.

It was such a stupid accident, and we were both going to look like we'd gone a couple of rounds with a pro boxer.

"Get up, dude." Theo shifted underneath me. He was a big guy. Tall, broad, and all muscle. He looked and lived like a highly trained athlete. There was no fat to cushion that fall.

I scrambled off of him, guitar slipping and sliding, hitting him in the arm as I climbed to my feet. Theo glared up at me from the ground, his handsome face already starting to look black and blue in places.

"You gotta watch where you're going, Rockstar." He said the words lightly, but as always, I let myself take them the wrong way so I could feel the heat of aggravation under my skin.

"You were the one looking at your phone. You pay attention to where you're going." I huffed a bit in irritation and reached for his bag where it had fallen.

Theo knocked my hand away and moved to grab it himself. I noticed that he tried to hide a flinch when he moved his hand to grasp the handle. That wasn't good. If he was hurt during baseball season, he could lose his scholarship and every opportunity he had lined up going into college. A tingle of guilt started to chase the irritation through my veins.

"Are you okay?" I didn't want to ask, and if it had been anyone but him, I wouldn't have. He was the only one who forced me to act like a normal person.

He cringed again when he moved his arm and muttered, "I'll be all right."

He didn't really have a choice.

He was throwing his bag back over his shoulder when a smaller, tense body suddenly forced its way into the space between us.

One of Mac's hands landed on the center of Theo's broad chest, and the other gently touched my screaming cheek. His fingers were small and pale, but the contact was like being touched by a blow torch. Theo's bag must've nailed me harder than I thought. I was dreading looking into a mirror.

"What in the hell are you two doing?" Mac sounded both pissed and frantic. His green eyes were wide, and I could already see the gears turning in his maniacal head. "Are you insane? If you get caught fighting, you'll both get kicked out of school."

We were all so close to graduation, that wasn't an outcome that I could even fathom.

Theo wrapped his fingers around Mac's wrist and pulled his hand away. He was always pretty stern and abrupt with the redhead for some reason. Mac was pretty much the only person I'd never seen Theo treat like his best friend.

"No one was fighting. We collided and fell down the stairs. It was a dumb accident. I'm late for practice. I gotta go."

Theo went to walk away, but stopped when Mac grabbed his wrist. He hissed out a low sound of pain and turned his head to glare at the smaller boy. Mac's rust-colored eyebrows lifted at Theo's response as his gaze bounced between the two of us.

"No one is going to believe you two accidentally did this to one another. Everyone is going to think you're trying to cover up a fight, which is grounds for automatic expulsion." He gave me a hard look and muttered. "It might not be a big deal for you, but if they kick Theo out of school, he loses everything."

I gulped as guilt clogged my throat. As usual, Mac was seeing to the heart of my biggest fear in any situation I was trapped in. "I'm sure one of the security cameras caught us falling. We can prove there was no fight, that we just fell."

Theo yelped when Mac squeezed his wrist. "And you. Your wrist is obviously injured. What happens when you tell the coach? Accident or not, they have no use for a scholarship kid who can't play."

Theo growled low in his chest and shook off Mac's hold. "Fuck you, Malachi. I'm fine. Mind your business for once."

Mac narrowed his gaze again and looked up at the front of the dorm. "Edge had the security cameras on this building disabled when he realized his father was using them to check up on him and Bash."

The heir to the Darby kingdom was not supposed to be playing around with the prince of punk rock in his billionaire father's eyes. The two had significantly clashed recently, and a battle of wills had broken out as the two powerful Darbys fought to see who had more say over the son's life. It didn't surprise me at all to hear that the security cameras were now all for show. "You will have no proof this was an accident, and both of you are going to be in big trouble." Mac sighed and dragged a hand over his ridiculously cute face. "I'm going to figure out a way to fix this."

I'm sure he meant those words to be reassuring, but they sent a chill of apprehension racing down my spine. Theo also gave the redhead a wide-eyed look of alarm as he muttered, "It's not a big deal, Mac. Klein and I will be fine." He looked more confident than he sounded.

Mac shifted his gaze between the two of us, lifting a slim, elegant shoulder and letting it fall. "Fine. You two figure it out on your own. You know where to find me if you need me."

Theo and I exchanged a knowing look, and a sinking feeling settled deep in my gut.

Those green eyes glimmered with an almost unholy light as Mac warned, "When you need me, know I don't do any favor for free. I'll own you both when it's all said and done."

He flashed us a cocky wink and disappeared just as quickly and as quietly as he arrived.

Theo sighed and shook his head, the longer part of his dark hair flopping in his eyes. "Don't worry too much, Rockstar. We'll be okay." I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard him whisper, "We better be," under his breath.

I didn't like the way he favored that one side when he walked away. I liked even less the idea there was even a slight chance I was about to get caught up in one of Mac's games; because I knew the only winner at the end of one of those was going to be Mac.

I really wished I'd been watching where I was going.