To the rest of the world, Rome Moreno is the Riff King. An icon, a Rock God. When I met him, he mistook me for a stripper and asked me to ride his lap. So, consider me unimpressed.
I didn't mean for him to take that as a challenge . . .
There's no place for a tattooed hunk of trouble like Rome in the regimented life of a world-class dance princess. My days run on a carefully timed clock-where I go, when I practice, what I eat. I sold my soul to the devil to pay for my dreams, and I've accepted it.
But one taste of forbidden fruit can do the most destructive things. Especially when I discover Rome's scars go a lot deeper than his tattoo ink.
I honestly believed that if they already owned my existence, it meant I had nothing left to lose.
