It should have been easy. I needed the money. He needed a babysitter to keep him from snorting himself to death. I was cherry-picked especially for him. Responsible. Optimistic. Warm. Innocent. The worst part is that I should have known better. Alex Winslow. British rock star. Serial heartbreaker. Casanova with whiskey eyes. Don't get near the devil in a leather jacket. He'll chew you up and spit you out. Guess what? I didn't listen. I signed the contract. World tour. Three months. Four Continents. One hundred shows. My name is Indigo Bellamy, and I sold my soul to a tattooed god. Problem was, my soul wasn't enough for Alex Winslow. He ended up taking my body, too. Then he took my heart. Then he took my all.