Dazedly, I look around. The disgusting creep has moved down the line and is talking to Alice. My hands hurt from clenching so tightly. I want to punch his lights out and then throttle the life out of him.
“Nothing,” I mutter to Mackenzie, because I’m far too cowardly to act out my desires. Too selfishly concerned for my career. Just another asshole who is not going to stand up for him. Another self centered prick pretending not to know anything.
I look around, everyone is busy chatting to one another now. I can escape. Without a second thought, I flee to my dressing room. I can feel Mackenzie’s gaze on my back, but I’m far too ashamed of myself to look at him.
A short while later, I find myself outside Mackenzie’s dressing room door. I’m in my own clothes, my bag is packed, I’m ready to go. But I can’t leave without speaking to him first. There is no way I could ever live with myself if I run away without talking to him. I have so much to say and no idea how to say it. If I can squeeze a few words out it will be a miracle, and far better than nothing, so I have to try. He deserves that much at least.
As I pause outside his door, trying to summon up the courage to knock, voices drift through the wood. He is not alone. I recognize his mother’s sharp tones.
“Harry, darling. Come to dinner at ours tonight, before the wrap party. My chef does the most amazing lasagna. We can discuss season three, then afterwards I can leave you and Mackenzie in privacy to discuss his role. Just like you used to in the good old days.”
“That does sound delightful,” says Mr. Pritchard and the oily sound of his voice oozes into me and makes me feel sick. Even his voice feels like a violation.
I stand there for a moment in denial. I can’t have heard what I just heard. Mackenzie’s mother can’t be pimping him out. She can’t have pimped him out as a child. It’s too horrible to be true. I had assumed she didn’t know, or knew but didn’t care, but she actually instigated it? My very soul recoils in outrage. How could she? But then again, she flipping bought Mackenzie to replace her own birth child. She is a monster.
Suddenly, I remember how flustered he was when I turned up to his house. He had only been wearing a robe, and had been terrified about someone seeing me, or as now seems far more likely, he had been scared of me seeing who was there with him. I know the truth of it in my bones now. I can taste the bitterness of it on my tongue. Someone else had been there that day. Someone Miranda Jones had sold him to.
The door smashes open and all three occupants of the room jump at my dramatic entrance. I’m just as surprised at my action as everyone else, but I’m not going to fucking show it. Seems I can’t stand by and do nothing after all.
“Mr. Pritchard is never having alone time with Mackenzie ever again!” I snarl.
Miranda Jones gives me a look that is pure outrage and fury. “What are you talking about?” Even in her surprise and anger, she is attempting to deny everything.
I ignore her and turn to Mackenzie, who is sitting in his makeup chair, looking utterly astonished
“Come on, we are getting out of here,” I say.
He says nothing, but he gets to his feet and steps towards me. The sight fills me with joy. Somehow I’ve managed to win his trust and it feels fantastic.
“You’re not actually his boyfriend!” splutters Miranda.
“I don’t care!” I snap without deigning to look at her. She is not worth my time nor attention.
Mackenzie follows me out of his room and down the corridor. We are out of the building and heading for my car before he speaks.
“You can’t actually kidnap me.”
“Watch me!” I growl as I open my car door for him.
He glances at me briefly but gets in with no argument. As I shut the door, a strange sense of contentment and satisfaction falls over me. I’m taking Mackenzie home and nothing bad is ever going to happen to him again. Nothing has ever felt more right. It’s like I’ve finally found what I was born to do.
We drive to my house in silence. My fingers drumming on the steering wheel is the only sound. His comment about being kidnapped fills me with grief. It says so much about his state of mind. He truly believes he belongs to Miranda Jones.
As we pull into my driveway, I’m suddenly worried he is going to bolt, so I hustle him into the house quickly so he doesn’t have time to think. He steps inside my home calmly and kicks off his shoes by the door. I see him glance around curiously and I feel a flash of inadequacy. It’s a million miles from my childhood home, but it’s also a million miles from his.
I lead him into the living room and pour him a whiskey. He takes it and our gazes lock together. It feels like we are in the eye of the storm. Chaos and destruction behind us. Danger and uncertainty before us, but right now it’s just us. Alone in a little island of calm and stillness.
“I have no idea why I came with you,” he says.
“Because I told you to.”
He shakes his head at me dismissively. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“I do now,” I growl and then down my whiskey in one.
Mackenzie is staring at me. His sapphire eyes full of bewilderment and confusion. He looks completely lost. I can’t stand it.
“Step one, you stay here with me. Step two, you hire a lawyer, not the one you have now, but a new one who has nothing to do with your mother.” I pause for a moment. “I’m assuming she is your financial adviser as well as your agent?”
