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