Heiress vs Rockstar (Love in Illyria Book 4) Read online

  HEIRESS

  vs

  ROCKSTAR

  Love in Illyria

  Book 4

  ADALIND WHITE

  www.adalindwhite.com

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  Heiress vs Rockstar

  by Adalind White

  Copyright © August 2018 by Adalind White

  The timeline of this book overlaps partially with the DREAMS DUET, but you can enjoy this Duet on its own because it deals with events only hinted at in the previous books.

  In this book there are mentions of Andrew and Vy who were the main characters of Dark Dream and Light Dream, but no spoilers for those books.

  The following story contains mature themes and occasional bad language. It is intended for adult readers.

  This story is set in a fictional European country. Illyria does not exist. Please read the Author's Notes for more information

  All characters, names, events, brands, companies, and locations are created by the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, organizations, and settings is purely coincidental.

  If you enjoy this story, please leave a review. It would go a long way to help other readers who love the same things you do find this story.

  In my newsletter, I send secret stories sharing the fantasies the characters have about each other while they slowly burn before their Happily Ever After. These exclusive stories are not part of the Love in Illyria books published and they have of a more steamy-sexy-smutty (sometimes graphic) tone

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  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Heiress vs Rockstar

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Author's Notes

  CHAPTER ONE

  Tim

  He straightened his tie, fighting the urge to loosen it. Last time he'd been at a black-tie event, he had Alba Richmond-Orsay on his arm. When he confirmed his participation for this year, he thought he'd be there with Isabella. He slammed closed the car door and walked to entrance. He slowed down for the photographers. He stood in front of the Small Miracles banner until they got all the publicity shots they needed.

  When he entered the ballroom, he was greeted by a tall woman with serious eyes who led him to his table.

  He recognized Adeline St. Croix a few tables away, and he scanned the room for her husband. Paul Cesara was far from one of his favorite people in the world, but he worked with his law firm for many years, and their relationship had improved greatly once Vy started her first year at Salona.

  He was beginning to find the evening bearable when he caught a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye, but when he turned his head, he didn't see anyone he knew. His first instinct was that it was Alba. If Alba was there, she'd outshine everyone else.

  He almost forgot about it, when, a few minutes later, he heard a very familiar voice.

  "The University has a long tradition of offering scholarships to underprivileged children."

  Alice.

  His hand tightened around the champagne flute, and he set it down to avoid breaking it. Adrenaline flooded his system. He wished he could wrap his hand around her throat instead of the glass. Instead of crawling under a rock and dying, that little monster was attending parties. He circled around so that he could observe her from a distance.

  The little snake had shed her skin. He'd always seen her in jeans and with minimal makeup. The tight fit dress and the elegant updo made her look older. Any hesitation he still had about hating her was obliterated by her look. She might be Vy's age, but she looked more mature. She was a fully grown woman who had to deal with the consequences of her actions.

  She was talking to a thin woman he didn't know and a man who looked a lot like Alba's husband, Basil Sinclair. He could move on to another conversation and leave her alone for the night. He hadn't expected to meet her and he didn't have a plan for her, but he couldn't stay away. Before he could change his mind, he was already near her group.

  His presence was noted immediately, and the older woman addressed him directly.

  "Mr. Carter, we are honored by your presence. My name is Leonie de Montrachet."

  He didn't know her, but he recognized name. Her demeanor spoke of old money and influence. Alice's reaction was so subtle, he would have missed it if he hadn't been focused on her. She cringed.

  He took Leonie's hand and bowed his head slightly. This sort of old-fashioned politeness worked well on the upper classes. He turned to Alice, giving her the option to pretend they didn't know each other.

  "Good evening, Mr. Carter," she said.

  "Please, call me Tim. We know each other too well."

  "How do you know each other?" the well dressed young man standing next to Alice asked, in a voice that betrayed nothing more than mild curiosity.

  "Our Music rooms are next door to each other," she said, but the man's curiosity turned into confusion. "On Sing," she added. "Mr. Carter, this is Christian Sinclair."

  He shook the man's hand looking into Alice's eyes.

  "Calling me Mr. Carter only makes me want to bend you over my knee and spank your bottom red all the more."

  She didn't flinch. And neither did the others. He was surrounded by masks.

  "You seem to know each other very well," Christian Sinclair said nonchalantly.

  Affected nonchalance or real indifference? Tim was impressed that he couldn't tell which was true. So, this was the Sinclair who was going into politics. It figured he'd be a cold bastard.

  "Oh, you could say that she knows very intimate details about me," he said.

  Christian raised an eyebrow and a vaguely amused smile played on his lips. The guy was going to be an excellent politician. He offered Alice his hand and bowed slightly.

  "My lady, may I have this dance?"

  She accepted his hand gracefully and they floated to the dance floor.

  Alice

  Christian's warm steady hand on the small of her back calmed down her nerves a fraction.

  "You look lovely tonight," he said when they start to dance.

  "Aren't you even going to ask?" she said, surprised at the neutral comment.

  "He's an asshole," Christian said.

  The word was harsh but his voice had no particular inflexion. He either didn't care or he was in a league of his own when it came to hiding his emotions. He must have sensed her confusion, because he elaborated.

  "Whatever happened between the two of you, there is no excuse to be rude in public."

  "It really doesn't bother you, does it?"

  "That you had a life before we met? That you made mistakes?"

  "Caesar's wife…" she said.

  "Must be above suspicion," he finished the quote in her embarrassed silence.

  He laughed softly and twirled her around gracefully. Something about Christian always put her at ease. She didn't mind the extravagant dance move. When he was around, her deep seeded awkwardness faded away. She no longer pretended to
be comfortable in a crowd. He exuded lightheartedness, muting her inner anxiety. Except for Christian, the only person she'd been at ease with was Carter, when she was being herself, forgetting the secrets she kept from him.

  "Alice, we are Illyrians, not ancient Romans. Our current prime minister had an affair with the previous prime minister, while she was still married. Our politicians have to be mildly competent and not overtly corrupt. Scandals about personal issues that would shake more puritan countries barely register here."

  She looked up at him, and a traitorous thought passed through her mind. She wished she could love him.

  "You're not like the other politicians."

  "No," he said soberly. "Or more accurately, not yet."

  His classically handsome features reminded her of statues of Greek gods. The arrogant perfection of his nose, his elegant high cheek bones, the chiseled lines of his mouth, everything about him should have made her feel awkward and ugly. But not the way he looked at her. With fondness and without pity.

  "You must be one of the most self-aware people I know," she said.

  A warm smile softened his Olympian coldness.

  "That's because you hang around clueless artists too much."

  She smiled back. The tone was kind, conveying the acceptance she needed so desperately. It would be nice if she could count on him in the stormy times that were to come.

  #

  Despite her promise to Leonie, the crowded ballroom became too much to bear and she snuck onto the terrace. She pretended she needed to smoke, when all she needed was to be on her own for a few moments.

  She wasn't surprised when Carter showed up on the terrace before she even lit her cigarette. They would have the place to themselves as long as they could stand the cold.

  "Could you have chosen a more boring dress?" he asked, pacing around her like a wolf stalking his prey.

  "Yes," she said.

  He looked her up and down, frowning. Her elegant dress in delicate shades beige was one of the least showy designs from her grandmother's latest collection. Not actually boring, but more wearable than the Pellerin signature pieces.

  "Who are you trying to sell this wholesome image anyway?"

  "I'm not selling anything," she said.

  "Of course you are. I should get a discount as a frequent customer."

  The bitterness in his tone was like a silk whip on her

  "Do you want me to apologize again?"

  "You didn't apologize the first time."

  She bit back the comment that he hadn't given her time to apologize.

  "Do you want me to apologize?" she rephrased the question.

  "I would not expect it of you."

  "It's not what I asked."

  "Don't tell me that all of a sudden you lost the skill to know what I want."

  "I am sorry. I never meant to hurt anyone."

  He looked at her for a long time. She really didn't know what he wanted any more. This situation wasn't on any of her maps.

  "What do you want most in the world?" he asked.

  "I, umm... don't know."

  He shook his head, clearly not believing her.

  "I will find out. And I will give it to you. Then I'll destroy it in front of your eyes."

  She looked down, unwilling to hold his gaze. His hatred for her shone too bright to bear it. She wished there was something she could do to take away the pain she had caused him.

  He stepped closer, and leaned to whisper in her ear. His lips almost brushed her skin when he spoke.

  "And if you really don't want anything," he said, in a low and silky voice that gave her goosebumps. "I will make you want something so badly, you will bleed to get it. And I'll make sure you never, ever do."

  He sounded like his Shakespearean characters on stage. His Macbeth was the most impressive performance Alice had ever seen on the stage, but his words were sounded like the witches' curse not like the king's guilt-ridden soliloquy.

  He left her alone on the terrace. The cigarette had turned to ashes between her fingers.

  They say never meet your heroes, but I don't think they had this in mind.

  Her hero was pretty damn unbalanced to begin with. He had just crossed the border into dangerously insane.

  #

  Carter materialized next to her when she was back in the ballroom.

  "My lady, may I have this dance?" he asked, mocking Christian's tone.

  She barely managed to conceal the surprise. Why was he acting like they were the best of friends? As far as the rest of the world was concerned, he didn't care about her one way or the other, but they both knew the depth of his hatred. Why would he pretend that nothing had ever happened? He couldn't expect her to be taken in by his attitude, could he?

  "I'm a terrible dancer," she said taking half a step back, trying to blend into the coffee colored curtains.

  "If I didn't know any better," he drawled, "I'd say you're a terrible liar. That was a very careless lie."

  "I was trying to be polite. I don't want to dance with you."

  "Color me surprised."

  She hated it when he used her own words. "Color me surprised! I did not expect you to read the Discworld." Oh, how much she had loved discovering things they had in common!

  "Since you ask so nicely," he said in her silence, taking her hand without waiting for her to offer it, "I didn't need to see you float around the dancefloor like a ballerina with young Christian. I already knew you were an excellent dancer because your best friend told me you tried to teach her to dance. You failed miserably, by the way."

  "I know," she said, and followed him to the dance floor.

  Lately, her life seemed full of battles she could not win.

  "She told me many things about you, Alice. You see, Vy cares about you. She thinks you're a nice person."

  "If you plan to make Vy hate me, you're kind of late," she said. "She already despises me."

  "Good for her," he said cheerfully.

  They danced in silence for a few moments. She was an adequate dancer, and she could even relax and enjoy herself dancing with someone like Christian. In Carter's arms she felt fluid. Vibrant. He was leading her so effortlessly.

  "I danced with her for hours, you know" he said, breaking the silence. "I'm not going to claim it was graceful, but with a lot of compassionate editing, it made for a good music video."

  She knew the one at which he was referring. It was one of the most romantic songs he had ever written. Not just for Vy. In all his career. The video itself was very tender. Vy had ruined the effect by telling her in detail about how horribly she had danced that day, and how much of a jerk Carter had been to keep her dancing.

  "It's a beautiful song. All the songs you write for her are amazing. She made the right choice last year."

  A muscle twitched in his face. He obviously neither appreciated, nor believed her compliments.

  "The choice you suggested."

  "It's not like that," she said, unwilling to let him believe she had manipulated Vy. "She didn't choose you because I told her."

  "Why then? We both know I was her second choice. Why wouldn't she choose the amazing Andrew King?"

  "Because she's in love with him!"

  The words burst out and even if she bit her lips until she drew blood, she couldn't unsay them. Panicked, she looked at him, hoping that for some miracle he'd gone deaf for a few seconds.

  "Oh, don't look so terrified. I'm not blind."

  Over the past few months, he had hinted that he was aware of something between Andrew and Vy, but she was grateful for the confirmation. Relief washed over her and she rested her forehead on his shoulder. It didn't count as betraying a secret if the other person already knew it. She smiled sarcastically to herself. She was getting awfully good at justifying her blunders.

  His arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer, allowing her to hide her face in the hollow of his neck. Her nose was pressed against his skin. He smelled so good. It was an old fragr
ance. So old she didn't even remember its name. She had no idea they still made it.

  The memory of that perfect day with her grandparents rose in her mind. She was twelve the summer her grandmother, Tatiana, had taken her to the perfume's launch. Her grandfather, general Lewis, had accompanied them on a visit to the beautiful gardens of the old Royal Palace after the fashion show. The gardens were resplendent in the bright July day. They sat on a bench in the shadow of an oak tree. The general told war stories, and her grandmother braided her hair. She mellowed into Carter's arms, while the music wrapped around her soul.

  The sudden pressure on her hand jerked her back to reality. When she was back in her proper position she darted a glance at Carter, who was squeezing her hand to the point of pain. He was staring at her with the same fiery anger she saw in his eyes when he confronted her about Isabella. He must have realized he was doing it, and he rearranged his features into his usual casually mocking expression. The "TC mask" as Alice thought of it.

  "I have a feeling we're going to see a lot of each other from now on," he said in an offhand tone that matched his mask.

  Her hand instinctively tightened on his shoulder. He grinned, delighted to feel the effect he had on her.

  "You're so good at hiding your true self, little monster. I'll have a lot of fun tearing your mask to shreds."

  "Don't you have a million other things to do? More important than exacting vengeance on me?"

  "I can multitask. And I can delegate. But most of all, I can prioritize."

  "And you see pestering me as a priority?"

  The song was over. If he had any mercy, he would escort her to her seat and leave her alone for the rest of the night.

  "Pestering," he drawled, pulling her hand slowly toward his lips. "I like that word."

  Her heart went crazy when she felt his lips brushing against her skin as he spoke. He pressed his lips on the back of her hand, and kept them for a few seconds longer than it was polite. His voice was heavy with honey and venom when he delivered his whispered threat.

  "It sounds so much less violent than ruining your life."