Chapter One
River stared into the mirror, wondering who the stranger was looking back at him.
Who the fuck are you?
Everything about his appearance was completely wrong—from the hair to the eyes and lips, nothing seemed right. Reaching up, he took out the contacts, dropping them in the sink before turning on the water, watching as they disappeared down the drain.
Why the hell did I start wearing these? One word: Otávio.
It was Otávio who’d suggested that he should wear contacts. River wasn’t sure why the fuck he agreed to wear the damn things when he loved his light gray eyes. They weren’t unique, but they were his.
Lifting his head, he stared in the mirror, but he was still looking at a stranger. Reaching up, he snatched off the blond wig he was wearing, not caring about the pins holding it in place. He glared at the offending thing before throwing it to the floor.
The wig was another of Otávio’s suggestions.
He started removing the pins holding his long curly black hair in place, watching with fascination as the deep onyx waves cascaded over his right shoulder. He giggled like a kid, twirling his fingers in his hair. Growing up, kids used to ask him if he dyed his hair, but it was all natural—he attributed it to his Cape Verdean heritage.
River raised his gaze and expected to recognize the man in the mirror, but he still saw a stranger. Grabbing one of the hotel towels, he put it under the running water, soaking the material, and without hesitation, roughly scrubbed the makeup off his face.
He sighed when he saw the first patch of his soft ochre complexion come into view and froze when a flood of memories and hurtful emotions came back to him seeing the large bruise on his left cheek—the reason he agreed to wear the wigs, contacts, and makeup. He had to hide the abuse.
Good thing no one ever sees me without makeup.
River doubted anyone remembered what he looked like before he became rich and famous. His fear “was” of them finding out that the spoiled, cold, controlled, and calculating man they saw in the magazines was a fraud, but in truth “he’s” a fucking coward behind closed doors.
I haven’t been in control of my life for a very long time.
A little over six years ago, River sold his soul to the devil, only realizing his mistake too late. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he winced, feeling the sting from scrubbing his face too hard.
“Don’t fucking cry,” he scolded himself. “Dry your fucking face and do what you’ve always done: push through the pain.” Closing his eyes, he took a shaky breath as he opened them once more. “You can do this, River. Just a couple more years and you can leave him and put this all behind you.”
But will I be able to hold on until then?
He observed his appearance once more, ignoring the puffy eyes and sunken cheeks, he somewhat recognized the old him. He felt raw and open, and completely alone. He finally had the money and fame he wanted, but not the love he craved. Otávio made sure he would never know what genuine love felt like. River touched the large bruise on his cheek, regretting that he could see it again.
Maybe I should call Sienna to come and cover it back up.
Sienna JiNa, his makeup artist and friend, begrudgingly did an excellent job covering up the bruises. She had begged River countless times to leave Otávio, but she had somehow forgotten the number of times he’d left only to be dragged back by Otávio. Besides that, River had nowhere to run. River realized too late there wasn’t anything he could do about his situation. Otávio had control over every aspect of his career and, subsequently, his life.
It was part of the deal they’d made when they started out together, River would make the money and Otávio would take care of everything else. River trusted Otávio completely in the beginning of their relationship. The man had been the one to let River see the potential that was hidden inside of him as a singer and songwriter.
It started a little over six years ago when a charming and handsome man told him he had the voice of an angel and the body of a model. River knew he had an androgynous appearance, but he never paid much attention to the way he looked. He had other concerns in his life, like food and keeping a roof over his head.
River cursed his parents many times over the years for the way he grew up. They didn’t care about him and found more joy in a bottle of gin, and whatever drug could give them a high. For a while, River hated them with a passion and thought they were weak, constantly succumbing to their addictions. But after years of being with Otávio, he realized he was just as vulnerable.
Maybe their habit is my fault. They were young and still in high school when they had me. And couldn’t handle the pressure of being parents.
Having to become the breadwinner, River put the thoughts of going to college out of his mind even though he graduated a year early and was fifth in his graduating class. River remembered that he loved studying history and languages and taught himself Portuguese and Latin, all the while holding down three part-time jobs.
He didn’t deny that he was jealous when he’d heard of the colleges his classmates were going to and what they wanted to do with their lives when he was stuck at home taking care of his parents. For a while things were bad, but after meeting Otávio, who was a few years older than him, River’s life got better. Sadly, he latched on to Otávio, seeing him as his savior and hero, rescuing him from a life of tragedy.
River jumped, dropping the washcloth in the sink when there was a loud bang on the bathroom door.
“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Otávio yelled. “Everyone is waiting for you downstairs.”
River licked his dry, chapped lips. “I…I’ll be down in a few minutes.” He prayed that his voice didn’t shake.
“Whatever. I’m giving you twenty minutes to get your shit together. You won’t like what will happen if I have to drag your clumsy ass down there.” Otávio’s commanding and condemning voice grated and scared River at the same time.
“I…I just need a few minutes to collect myself.”
“Hurry the hell up and don’t fuck up the same way you did on stage tonight. Let’s hope your fuckup didn’t cost me the deal I need.”
River rested his head on the closed bathroom door and waited to hear the outer hotel door slam shut. He knew that he’d fucked up, and Otávio would have noticed since the man watched his every move.
He was so tired and in so much pain that he’d forgotten the words to the song he wrote and performed countless times. River had been so focused on hiding his pain that he knew it was the worst performance he’d ever given. He could already read what the magazines would print.
“Lead singer River Wilde, of the band Kingdom of Extasy, forgot the words of his songs because he was too high.”
The crazy thing was, other than his suppressants, River’d never touched a drug in his life. After seeing what it had done to his parents, he promised never to do that kind of shit.
Whatever made me think Otávio loves me? Oh yeah, he was my first. Worst mistake I’ve ever made.
When Otávio Ramos entered his life, he thought things would have been better for him. He finally had someone in his corner and encouraged River to find his place in life.
He was young, and because Otávio was older, spoke Portuguese, and portrayed himself as someone who was cultured and worldly, River ate up every word that came from his mouth.