Fractured Hearts: A Fractured Rock Star Romance

by L. M. Dalgleish

  Fractured Hearts

  A Fractured Rock Star Romance

  L.M. Dalgleish

  Copyright © 2020 L.M. Dalgleish

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the author, except by reviewers who may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Editing by One Love Editing

  Cover design © Arijana Karčić, Cover It! Designs

  To my husband and children, for their patience as I stumbled my way through writing and publishing my very first book. Love you!

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Epilogue

  About The Author

  Chapter 1

  The blinding lights faded to black, but the screaming only grew louder. Connor’s heart pounded in his chest, and beads of sweat dripped down his face and body as he tried to catch his breath after their encore performance. The spotlights flashed back on, illuminating him and the three other members of Fractured. If possible, the screams grew louder, and he could hear the band’s name being chanted by the mass of fans that filled the stands. Connor looked out over the seething crowd, seeing the ecstatic faces and reaching hands; a field of cell phones held high to take that one last shot.

  A hot blonde in the front row caught his eye and he smiled, giving her a wink. Her jaw dropped and the next thing he knew she’d pulled her top up, flashing an impressive pair of barely contained tits at him. His smile widened in appreciation. Not bad.

  Giving a final salute to the crowd, he strode toward the stage exit with Tex, Noah, and Zac, while the stadium erupted in protest that the show was over. Tex jogged up next to him and slapped him on the back. “Great show!”

  Connor smirked. “I don’t know, I think the guitar solos were a little off—” That earned him a numbing punch in the arm from Tex, who proceeded to turn around and walk backward so he could flip Connor the bird. Connor returned the favor, and Tex grinned before catching up with Noah and Zac and slinging his tattooed arms around their necks.

  Still smirking, Connor ran a hand through his dark hair. But with the screams of the crowd still ringing in his ears, his smile dropped. He blew out a deep breath and wondered, not for the first time, when being one of the world’s biggest rock stars had stopped being something he wanted, and what the hell he was going to do about it.

  He scrubbed both hands over his face.

  Fuck.

  * * *

  Two hours later and he was kicking Tex, Zac, and Noah out of his hotel suite, the door swinging shut behind his bandmates as they headed back to their rooms. They had all gathered for a drink after that night’s gig, foregoing heading out to a club, since they had an early start the next morning. Not to mention the US leg of their world tour was kicking off soon, which meant another long three months of concerts coming up.

  Connor finished the last of his whiskey in one swallow, the smoky peat flavor of the single malt doing little to relax him. He’d have to kill some time before heading to bed because adrenaline from that night’s performance still filled him with a restless energy, suggesting he wouldn’t be getting to sleep for a while.

  Luckily for him, before the door had a chance to fully shut behind his friends, Drew, Fractured’s manager, caught it and swung it back open. He strolled in without an invitation as usual.

  “Hey, old man.” He smirked at Connor. “Not heading out tonight? Is it past your bedtime, then?”

  Connor pulled a cushion out from behind him where he sat on the leather couch and hurled it at Drew’s grinning face. “Watch who you’re calling old, you bastard,” he grumbled, fighting a smile. The slight Irish lilt he’d retained since moving to the States at fourteen softened his words, even when he didn’t want it to. “I’m twenty-eight and you’re thirty-two, so I guess that makes you geriatric.”

  “I guess so. That’s why I gave up the party lifestyle a long time ago.” Drew put on a quavering old-man voice. “Not like you young whippersnappers.”

  Connor laughed and got up to go to the bar to pour himself another whiskey, raising an empty glass and lifting a dark eyebrow at Drew in question.

  “Nah, I’m good, mate.” Drew sat down on the chair opposite where Connor had been sitting. “I’ve got something for you to look at.”

  Connor wandered back to the couch with his drink and settled his six-foot-four frame onto the seat. “What’s this, then?” He used his half-full glass to indicate the large envelope Drew held.

  Drew opened it and slid a stack of photos out into his hand. “Time to find yourself a photographer,” he said, handing the stack to Connor, who groaned in response. He’d forgotten he’d signed up for this. The other three had cheerfully handed off responsibility for choosing someone to document the upcoming leg of the tour for an official photo book. But he’d decided in a fit of enthusiasm that he wanted the final say in how the book turned out.

  He put his glass down on the coffee table and began looking through the glossy photos, which proved to be printouts from the portfolios of the industry’s most respected music photographers. After a few minutes, they all seemed to blend into each other: bright lights, screaming fans, various famous musicians crashing out on tour buses between shows.

  Disillusioned with the whole endeavor, he tossed the photos on the table, half of them sliding off the other side and landing on the floor. “No one’s really standing out to me. Maybe you should just pick someone and get it over with.”

  Drew scrubbed his hand over his face. “Come on, Connor. I know this whole thing was the record label’s idea, but you asked for creative control, so you need to put some effort into it. This guy will be with you for three months, so he has to fit well creatively and personally. It has to be someone you like, or can at least tolerate for that long, otherwise you’ll end up scaring him off with that scowl of yours.” He pointed at Connor. “Just like the one you’ve got on your face now. The label won’t be happy if the photographer leaves halfway through the tour since they’re investing a lot of money in promoting this book.”

  Connor grumbled to himself, but Drew was right. If he wanted the finished product to reflect his vision, he had to put the effort in.
After all, the band was at the pinnacle of success, and the label had convinced them that a photo book of their latest sell-out stadium tour was the best way to celebrate.

  If only he felt more like celebrating. Unfortunately, he’d been struggling to feel enthusiastic about much of anything to do with the tour, let alone picking a photographer to take endless shots of the band onstage singing their greatest hits to hordes of screaming fans.

  He glanced over at the scattered photos, then groaned and reached instead for the glossy magazine that was the only other thing on the table and began flipping through it. He’d look at the photos again later; hopefully, his interest would return by then.

  Pausing on a photo spread in the center of the magazine, his eyes narrowed. Now, this was interesting. It wasn’t a music-related photograph, but rather a black-and-white streetscape. In the picture it was raining hard, the gloomy clouds low and oppressive. People walked through the scene, umbrellas held over their down-turned heads to protect them from the deluge. In the background, a young girl without an umbrella stood with her head thrown back in glee while sheets of silvery rain fell on her upturned face. Her arms were outstretched, and she was laughing. The expression of innocent joy on her face was so luminous, it shone through the dreariness of the rest of the scene and brought the entire thing to life.

  Now that was more what he was looking for: a photo that actually made him feel an emotional connection.

  He didn’t just want this photo book to show the obvious bright lights and screaming fans. He wanted to really feel the passion their music inspired. Not just in the people that spent their hard-earned cash and crammed into stadiums to see them, but in everyone else that was involved in this crazy roller-coaster ride.

  Because God knew, he hadn’t been feeling much passion for it himself lately. If he could find someone to capture those emotions on camera, it might help him rediscover that sense of connection and shared experience that playing live music always used to give him. He was a lucky bastard to have the life he did, a life he’d dreamed of since childhood, but lately, he’d been struggling to regain the feeling of purpose he’d always had.

  Maybe seeing his life through this person’s lens, he’d start appreciating what he had again. The photo certainly spoke to him in a way none of the others had.

  He stood and tossed the magazine on Drew’s lap.

  “I want this one,” he said.

  * * *

  “She says she’s not interested,” Drew announced when he came back from making the call.

  “Everyone’s interested; this book’s a career-maker.” Connor frowned, unsure if he was more annoyed or impressed that the photographer had knocked them back. “What did she say exactly?”

  “Well, first off, she didn’t believe me when I told her I was calling on your behalf. Then, after I convinced her of that, she said she was very flattered, but she wasn’t a concert photographer, and she felt someone else would be better suited to the job.”

  “And you just gave up?”

  Drew gave a long-suffering sigh. “No, I told her you’d seen one of her photos and had loved it, and you specifically wanted her. She seemed to think that was funny, because she laughed, said something about rock stars being crazy, thanked me again for the offer, and hung up.”

  Drew sat back down across from him. “You know she’s got a point, mate. You didn’t even look at any of her other photos to check whether you like them. It doesn’t matter now since she said no anyway, but maybe you could do a bit more research on the next random photographer that catches your eye.”

  Connor smirked and shook his head. “You’re right. I should make sure I check out more of her work before I call her back. In fact, pass me my cell phone, I’ll do it now. If I like it, I’m going to need you to give me her number.”

  Drew raised his eyebrows in surprise and then sighed in resignation as he handed his phone over. Connor knew Drew wouldn’t bother arguing with him; once he had an idea in his head, he was hard to sway. And for some reason, this photographer had generated some much-needed enthusiasm in him. He felt genuinely engaged as he typed the photographer’s name into the search engine on his phone and began scrolling through the results, a slight smile curving his lips. After a few minutes, he looked up, his eyes meeting Drew’s. “I’ll need that number now.”

  A short time later, he hung up with a smug grin.

  “I take it she said yes, then?” Drew asked him, looking up from his cell phone where he was now browsing the photographer’s portfolio.

  “Yep, we need to arrange for her to fly down on Friday. Can you get the lawyers to draw up the contract now so if we hit it off, she can sign then and there?”

  “I’ll call Bob tomorrow and get it done. You know, I can see why you like her stuff,” Drew commented as he scrolled through photo after photo. “She’s got a very distinctive style. It’s all very… evocative.”

  Connor raised his eyebrows. That was high praise from their very down-to-earth manager. He studied the photo in the magazine again, something like anticipation flickering in his chest. “Let’s hope she can evoke something in me,” he murmured.

  Chapter 2

  Lexie hung up the phone and collapsed on the couch. She couldn’t believe she’d just been talking to Connor Byrne, lead singer of Fractured—or that he’d somehow talked her into flying to LA this Friday to discuss his project in person.

  She huffed out a breath in disbelief. She had no idea why they wanted her, and Connor had been cagey about his reasons on the phone. While it was more than flattering to be asked, concert photography wasn’t her specialty. She couldn’t imagine what they could say at the meeting that would convince her she was the right person for the job.

  She opened the calendar app on her phone to double-check her availability. Due to a cancellation, she was between jobs at the moment. And since she liked—no, needed—to keep busy, a compelling project would be welcome right about now.

  Still, maybe not something quite as compelling as three months on tour with a world-famous rock band. She had no doubt it would be an eye-opening experience, but she wasn’t sure how she’d handle the whole sex, drugs, and rock and roll thing. She was more used to taking her camera and escaping into the wilderness or losing herself in the bustling humanity of city streets.

  This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity though, so it wouldn’t hurt to hear Connor out. If the project didn’t interest her, she had no problem saying no. It wasn’t like she was desperate for work; she’d probably be able to pick up something else fairly easily if she decided she wasn’t interested in Connor’s proposal.

  That reminded her, she hadn’t been online since returning from her most recent job late last night. She needed to respond to any comments on her latest blog post—a tutorial on how to take good landscape photos—as well as check her email for any requests from potential clients.

  First things first though, she jumped up and headed into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, finding a hair tie and pulling her long brown hair up into a messy bun while she waited for the water to boil. When her tea was done, she headed back to the living room with the steaming cup in hand, grabbing her laptop on the way.

  Putting the tea on a coaster on the coffee table, she sat cross-legged on the couch and navigated to her blog. There were dozens of comments and questions about her landscape tutorial that she needed to respond to. Lexie smiled as she typed her replies. She loved communicating with people that shared her passion and liked to imagine that at least a few of them would go on to have a fulfilling career in photography too.

  After finishing with the blog, she opened her email. There were several messages from potential clients, and she went through them, weeding out any that didn’t appeal.

  There was a short-term job for next week, local to where she lived in San Francisco, and she replied immediately to accept it. There were a couple more job offers that were scheduled for various dates over the next few months. Since she didn’t know wh
at was going to happen with the Fractured job, she replied to those clients to let them know she’d get back to them next week.

  A warm sense of satisfaction filled her as she finished going through her emails. All her effort over the last few years was paying off now that she had a steady flow of work. Being able to turn her love of photography—dating back to when her parents gave her a camera for her thirteenth birthday—into a successful career hadn’t been easy. She’d spent her teenage years wandering around the small Californian town she’d grown up in, taking photos of people and scenes that intrigued her. After winning a few amateur photography competitions, she’d managed to make a name for herself locally, and started booking small jobs. From there, she’d set up her website and blog, building her freelance photography business up from scratch. She was proud of what she’d managed to do on her own—

  Her thoughts faltered.

  It hadn’t all been on her own. Damien, her childhood sweetheart and later her husband, had been with her at the start. He’d been her biggest supporter; always there for her. Until suddenly he wasn’t. Stolen away by a senseless accident and leaving her alone.

  Lexie blinked away the tears that prickled the back of her eyes. Three years on and the thought of losing Damien still brought her to tears on a regular basis.

  Photography had been the distraction she needed in the ensuing years, and she’d thrown herself into it to escape the grief. Which probably explained why, at twenty-six, she’d done as well as she had.

  Now she was well-established in her field, regularly doing work for a wide variety of clients, both national and international, which meant she was able to do a lot of traveling. She loved being at home too, though. And when she wasn’t working, she spent her free time with her small group of close friends. Despite what she’d lost, she’d managed to carve out a good life for herself. And if there was one gaping hole in that life, well, that’s why she kept herself busy.