Nola

Darius crouched in front of me. The anger was gone from his face, but he kept distance between us, as if I was an animal he was trying not to spook.

"Are you hurt?" he said quietly.

"N-no," I mumbled, still trying to make sense of what was happening.

Darius's gaze drifted to my arm. "You sure about that?"

I looked down. There was a smear of blood on my arm, bright against my pale skin. "I must have cut it on the fence."

"Can I see?"

I lifted my arm higher so he could look without getting any closer. "Really, it's a scratch."

"Hey, who are you talking to back there?" someone called from beyond the partition, then footsteps clomped down the aisle. The curtain was roughly shoved aside, and I shrank back even more.

Rhydian Byrne, Incarcerated's lead guitarist, stared down at me, all tattooed arms, wild blond air, and eyes like chips of ice.

"What the fuck?" he growled. His words were the same as Darius's when he found me, but Rhydian's voice was a whole lot angrier. He gave Darius's shoulder a little shove. "Since when do you sneak groupies onto the bus?"

"I'm not a groupie," I said.

Rhydian sneered. "Yeah, and I'm the fucking tooth fairy."

"Rhyd, I'm handling this," Darius said, putting out a hand to keep the other man back.

Rhydian started to say something else, then stopped, his eyes flitting between Darius and me. He studied my rucksack, the bloody scratch on my arm, and let out a long sigh. When he looked at Darius again, I got the feeling that something silent was passing between them, something I couldn't understand.

Rhydian muttered something that I didn't catch, then he backed off, letting the curtain fall into place, hiding me from anyone else on the bus.

Darius turned back to me. "You got a name?"

"Nola Collins," I whispered. "I'm so sorry, I know I shouldn't be here, but . . ."

But what? How could I possibly justify this?

"Do I need to call the police?" Darius asked.

"Oh God, no, please," I cried, hugging my rucksack harder. "I didn't mean any harm –"

"I don't mean call them on you," Darius gently interrupted. "I meant the guy chasing you. Boyfriend, I'm guessing?"

"Ex now," I mumbled.

"Good."

I relaxed the death-grip on my bag. "You don't need to call the police."

There was nothing they could do anyway. Mike had done nothing illegal.

"You sure?" Darius said.

I nodded.

"Okay. Can I drop you off somewhere?"

Lily's face flashed into my head, followed by Tasha's, and before I could stop myself, I started to cry. Once, I could have gone to my best friends for anything, and they'd have jumped for fucking joy if I'd told them I was leaving Mike. Now it would be too little, too late. Even if I hadn't destroyed those friendships through neglect, Tasha would never want to see me again.

Not after what I'd done.

"Ah, shit," Darius said. He straightened up and I heard him rummaging through something overhead, then he crouched again and offered me a black T-shirt. "Sorry, no tissues," he said. "But this is better than the alternative – Rhydian's socks."

I managed a snuffly laugh and took the T-shirt.

"You have family around here?" Darius asked.

"Not right now." My parents lived on the other side of London, but I didn't have a key to their place, and their sightseeing tour of Asia would keep them out of the country for at least another month.

"Friends, then?"

Fresh tears welled in my eyes. "Not anymore."

How had I let things get to this point?

Why the fuck hadn't I thought this through more?

Darius was quiet for a moment, then he ran one hand through his hair. "Okay, I know somewhere you can go."

My tired heart lifted. "Really?"

"Trust me."

What choice did I have?

***

Darius

I slipped back through the partition curtain, and found Rhydian waiting on the other side, his expression stormy.

"How the fuck did she get on the bus?" he demanded, not bothering to lower his voice.

I signalled for him to move further down. "I don't know, but it doesn't matter right now. Some dickhead's after her, and she's fucking terrified."

Rhydian snorted. "Or that's the sob story she'd fed you."

I leaned against the wall. "Don't pretend you didn't hear that guy screaming her name out there."

"How do you know this isn't something the two of them set up together?"

To anyone outside our world, that would have sounded paranoid as fuck, but Incarcerated had had more than our share of crazies over the years. I understood why Rhydian was wary.

"I saw the look in her eyes," I said.

"What look?"

I gave him a level stare. "You know what look."

Rhydian stared back, then he groaned and slumped against the opposite wall. "Oh, fuck me, you want to rescue her, don't you?" he said, but the heat had gone out of his voice.

I smiled wryly. "What do you think?"

"I think your bleeding heart is going to land you in serious fucking trouble one day," Rhydian shot back.

I chuckled. It wasn't the first time one of my friends had teased me for the being the soft one of the group.

"What now?" Rhydian asked.

I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to think. Tonight was the last stop in our UK mini tour, playing only small venues across all four countries, and even though these smaller gigs weren't as exhausting as the big international ones, I'd still been looking forward to heading home and passing the fuck out in my own bed.

"She says she's got nowhere to go," I said.

"That's convenient."

"I believe her."

The fear and desperation I'd seen in Nola's eyes was way too familiar. This girl wasn't faking.

"So where are you planning on taking –" Rhydian broke off and his eyes widened. "Oh, fucking hell, you're not doing what I think you are, right?"

"She can't sleep on the streets," I pointed out.

"Put her in a fucking hotel then," Rhydian snapped. He lowered his voice, glancing up and down the bus. "You can't bring some random chick to your fucking house."

"I'm pretty sure I can," I said.

Rhydian glared at me. I stared calmly back. Rhydian was a surly bastard, but he was still my best friend, and I knew him better than anyone. He was just looking out for me, in his own grumpy way.

"Are you crazy?" Rhydian said.

I lightly shoved him. "I'm friends with you, aren't I?"

He rolled his eyes. "Fucking hilarious."

"I try."

Rhydian glanced back at the curtain. "Seriously though, who the fuck even is this girl?"

"Someone who needs help," I said.

Rhydian sighed. "I think this is a mistake."

"Noted."

"But you're still going through with it."

"Yep."

Another sigh. But he didn't argue any more. "You'd better go tell her then," he said.

Nola

After Darius disappeared into the main body of the bus, I stayed on the floor, still clutching my stupid rucksack and the T-shirt he'd given me. This was so surreal that I had to keep pinching myself to make sure it wasn't some crazy dream.

Darius should have kicked me off the bus.

He probably should have called the police too, because for all he knew, I was some crazed stalker.

But he hadn't, and I didn't understand why.

I resisted the urge to peek out of the window to see where we were. Part of me was terrified that somehow Mike would still be outside, even though I knew that was impossible.

Messages and missed calls were piling up on my phone, but I didn't dare look at them.

Ten minutes became thirty, and a hard knot formed in my stomach because where the actual hell was Darius taking me? He'd told me to trust him, but I didn't know him.

I tried to stay calm, but my stomach pitched like I was on a rollercoaster, and I picked at the skin around my fingernails until they bled. Mike had always shouted at me for doing that, but that had only ever made it worse.

Beyond the curtain was the low murmur of voices, a noise that could have been someone clapping someone else on the back, then Darius reappeared. I couldn't help shrinking back again.

His driver had agreed to show those groupies the tour bus in exchange for blowjobs – what if Darius expected similar payment for the ride?

"Where are we going?" I whispered.

"My place," Darius said.

"What?" Oh God, he was expecting something. Once, the thought of hopping into bed with Darius Keller would have been my wettest of wet dreams, but not like this.

The bus stopped. Fuck me, were we here already? Where did he even live?

"I told you, I'm not a groupie," I said, and at least my voice didn't tremble.

Darius frowned. "Sorry?"

"If that's why you've brought me here, you've got the wrong girl." I wished I sounded more commanding, like I still had some fire left in me, like Mike hadn't snuffed it all out.

Darius's face cleared. "You've misunderstood. I have five spare bedrooms, so there's plenty of space for you to stay until you sort out your next move."

My mouth fell open. "I can't stay with you."

He slid his hands in his pockets. "Why not?"

"We don't know each other!"

"So? You need a bed for the night, I'm offering you one."

"Do you do this often?"

He shrugged, and even that simple movement was graceful.

"I can't," I insisted.

"You really can, though."

My mind raced. "I've just remembered. I do have a friend I can stay with."

"Uh huh." Darius clearly didn't buy it. "You don't even know where we are."

Crap.

"Plus, most of the Tubes have stopped running by now," Darius added.

Double crap.

I sank my teeth into my lip, furiously chewing.

"Look, the alternative is sleeping on the streets, and I can't let that happen," Darius said.

"Why not? You're not responsible for me," I pointed out.

"You're on my tour bus, and I brought you out here, so yeah, I am now. I need to know that you're okay."

"Why do you care?" My words came out a broken whisper.

"Because I've been you are now," Darius said, his eyes boring into me. "No one reached out to help me, but please let me help you."

I didn't get why this mattered to him. He didn't know me, and he owed me nothing, but maybe the universe was throwing me a bone for once. And weird though this situation was, I really didn't have anywhere to go.

"Okay," I whispered.

Slowly I got to my feet, still hugging my rucksack as if it was a barrier between me and the completely unprecedented turn this night had taken. I followed Darius through the curtain and down the rest of the bus, keeping my eyes firmly downcast. There were four members of Incarcerated, but I didn't know if they were the only people on the bus, and I was too overwhelmed to want to know.

Darius led me down the step and off the bus. The air was colder than when I'd left Mike's, and I wrapped my arms around myself, both to keep warm and to stop myself from picking my fingers.

Directly ahead of me was a huge house of greyish stone, tucked back from the street behind a gated metal fence and partially shielded from view by trees lining the pavement.

Rhydian jumped off the bus and fixed me with a cold glare. "I still think this is a bad idea," he said.

Darius didn't answer. He approached the fence, entered a code on a small keypad, and with a soft whirring noise, the gate slid open.

Behind us, the bus pulled away. I wondered if I should mention what the driver had been up to before the band had left the theatre, but decided it wasn't my place.

I expected Rhydian to keep pushing the matter, but Darius's non-response seemed to have shut him up. It did not, however, stop him from throwing me another filthy look.

A gravelled driveway led up to the front door, but Darius bypassed that and led me around the side of the house, to a walled garden of trees and shrubs that became a patio of pale stone when it reached the house itself. It was a double apex structure, with floor to ceiling windows in each of the two wings, which were joined by a glass-panelled balcony, running above the double back doors. Further back from the house, closer to the garden wall was a pool, glittering blue under the floodlights set near the patio.

"Where are we?" I asked. I hadn't recognised the street at all.

"Hampstead," Darius replied.

Something sparked in my brain – I had known that. Hampstead was home to plenty of celebrities and millionaires, and Darius had snapped up this modern mansion as soon as Incarcerated hit the big time. If I remembered correctly, Rhydian lived next door, though he was following us to Darius's house, rather than heading to his own.

Darius unlocked one of the double doors and ushered me inside, and I felt again that flare of panic. I was really doing this, wasn't I? I was spending the night in the mansion of one of the world's most famous rockstars. This wasn't some crazy fever-dream I was going to wake up from – this was really happening.

Darius didn't turn on the light as we entered the house, and I got only brief impressions of a kitchen and eating area before he was leading me down a hallway, past a series of doorways until he stopped in front of one. It looked like the guest rooms – some of them at least – were on the ground floor. Rhydian had followed us the whole way, a dark, angry cloud moving too close behind me.

"I still can't believe you're doing this," he muttered, as Darius opened the door.

Darius made an amused noise.

I still couldn't believe it either. I shuffled into the doorway, fighting the urge to chew on my fingernails.

"You're going to lock her in, right?" Rhydian said.

"No," Darius replied.

"Seriously?" Rhydian shoved a hand through his hair. "How many times do I need to remind you, you don't know who the fucking fuck she is."

I didn't love the way he talked about me like I wasn't there, but he had a point. "I'll understand if you want to lock the door," I said to Darius.

"It's really not necessary," he said.

"The hell it isn't," Rhydian muttered.

Darius just smiled. Apparently Rhydian's dark mood didn't affect him at all.

"I'll see you in the morning, Nola," he said, and closed the door. I waited for the click of the lock, but it never came.

"Okay," I whispered, fumbling along the wall until I found the light switch. I flicked it on, flooding the room with light.

The bedroom was clean and crisp and white – white floor and walls, a grey wooden bed made up with white pillows and covers, a white nightstand bearing only a chrome lamp, and black and white art prints in white frames on the walls. It didn't look as though it had ever been lived in.

I approached the bed, still hesitant, as if I'd wake up any moment and find myself back in Mike's apartment.

"This is insane," I muttered.

Was this how Tasha had felt, when a freak blizzard had left her stranded with Finn Donovan just a few weeks ago? If I hadn't royally fucked up our friendship, I could have asked her.

A wave of exhaustion washed over me, and I dropped my rucksack to the floor. I felt grubby and out of place, a lump of coal in the middle of fresh-fallen snow, and I had to push myself to sit on the bed. Toeing off my trainers, I tried to clear the fog of confusion in my head.

Less than two hours ago, I'd been at Darius Keller's show.

Now I was in his house.

What the actual hell was happening?

I flopped on the bed and pondered what I knew about him.

I loved Incarcerated's music, and Darius was the perfect frontman, with his husky, soulful voice, and the way he owned every stage as if they'd been built just for him. Also, it didn't hurt that he was almost too beautiful to be real.

But beyond my personal fantasies, there was something about the man that had always intrigued me.

In a world of sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll, where his friends and bandmates had developed addictions, been the subject of scandals, got into punch-ups with the press, and been linked to an endless string of gorgeous women, Darius Keller was the outlier.

I couldn't remember ever hearing about him having a serious girlfriend, and maybe that could've been because he was a millionaire rockstar playboy, except he also seemed to be the only one that hadn't fucked his way through a horde of models, film stars, and groupies.

Occasionally, media speculation surfaced that Darius and Rhydian – who also never seemed to have serious relationships – were actually a secret couple, and I'd never put any stock in that, but now I couldn't help wondering if it was true. It might explain why Rhydian was so hostile towards me – he was worried that I was moving in on his man.

It did not explain why Darius was so willing to welcome me into his home when all he knew about me was my name. And I could easily have lied about that.

I rolled over and tucked the pillow under my chin.

What did it matter, in the end? Darius had helped me, and tomorrow I'd have to find somewhere else to go.

This brief, bizarre dream would end as quickly as it had begun.