Page 1 of Forbidden Billionaire Rockstar

Prologue

Mallory

The bass thrums throughmy body, neon lights flashing across my skin.

The air is thick with the scent of spilled beer and designer perfume, a heady mix that makes my head spin. Everywhere I look, people move in a hypnotic rhythm, a sea of bodies seeking escape or connection or both. The condensation from my shot glass leaves a cool trail down my arm, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the packed dance floor.

It’s a sensory overload, one that used to be as familiar to me as breathing.

The moment I see Jace Brooks walk into the club, I know I’m in trouble. My carefully constructed plan threatens to crumble with just one look from those piercing blue eyes. I down another shot, hoping the burn of alcohol will drown out the voice in my head screaming, “Leave!”

But I don’t leave. I can’t. Because tonight, Mallory Dominic, reformed party girl, is on a mission to prove she’s changed. Even if that means resisting the one man who unravels me.

Mallory Dominic, savvy, professional woman. That’s who I am now. Or who I’m trying to be.

“Is this seat taken?”

I look up, ready to dismiss whoever thinks they have a chance, but the words die in my throat. Jace Brooks is standing before me and, quite simply, gorgeous — and also off-limits, considering he’s in my brother’s band.

Tousled dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. His leather jacket and worn band tee scream bad boy.

Old Mallory would’ve dragged him to the nearest dark corner.

New Mallory arches an eyebrow. “Depends. Planning on using a cheesy pickup line?”

He smiles and slides onto the stool next to me. “Jack and Coke, please. And whatever the lady’s having.”

“The lady can buy her own drinks,” I say, but without heat.

God, why did it have to be him? Of all the guys in this club, it had to be the one who could complicate everything.

“So, Mallory,” Jace leans closer, “what brings a girl like you to a place like this on a Tuesday night?”

The scent of his cologne makes my head spin. Or maybe that’s the alcohol.

“Would you believe market research?”

He chuckles. “For what, the correlation between bad decisions and tequila shots?”

“Something like that.” I find myself smiling back. There’s something about him, an easy charm that feels genuine rather than practiced.

But I can’t forget who he is—my brother’s bandmate, Raising Havoc’s new rock god.

Trouble with a capital T.

“Well, in the interest of your research,” Jace says, leaning closer, “can I interest you in a dance?”

I hesitate. This isn’t part of the plan. I’m supposed to have one drink, people-watch for an hour, then go home to my sad, empty apartment and feel superior about my life choices.

But as Jace stands and holds out his hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief and promise, I feel a spark I haven’t felt in years.

Oh, what the hell. One dance couldn’t hurt.

As I take his hand, I feel the old Mallory stirring, the girl who lived for nights like this. The girl who would’ve seen Jace as a delicious challenge, consequences be damned.

But the new Mallory, the one I’ve worked so hard to become, whispers warnings in my ear. One dance could lead to one night, and one night could destroy everything I’ve built. My career, my brother’s trust, my own self-respect – it’s all hanging in the balance.

I push the thoughts aside as we move together, his hands on my hips and my arms around his neck, I allow myself to get lost in the moment.

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