“No,” I say quickly, breaking my thick silence. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be there.”
“Excellent. And might I say, I am absolutely looking forward to meeting this secret McKenna Beckley. Is she any less skillful than Jane Landers, I wonder?”
Click.
The phone remains at my ear. I use my free hand to massage my throat, since my heart seems to have lodged there and won’t move down. My neck feels hot, my pulse erratic, and I’m confident I’ll be walking into a viper’s nest tomorrow afternoon with no guarantees to anything.
There’s nothing to stop Giles from continuing to come after me, even if I give him the money he demands. This time.
My dad will always be in danger, and I don’t think I’m his hero in this story, if he even deserves one.
My life is in pieces. I knew the risks, but didn’t understand the force with which I could be taken down. My face is everywhere, plastered with Mason’s, but in an ironic twist of fate, Mason is coming out of this the good guy.
And, according to my latest Google alert, I’m one of the most hated women in America right now. Death threats will commence shortly, save for the one I’m currently courting with a white collar criminal.
I fall back against the pillows, staring blindly at the ceiling.
Maybe I should’ve listened to Dee and caught a few hours of ignorant sleep.
Because now, I’m pretty sure I’ll only sleep when I’m dead.
28
Mason
High School
Senior Year
I wouldn’t say Mason’s heart grew ten sizes larger than its original, shriveled state after taking my virginity, but the additional time I spent with him sure made a difference in my schooldays.
Aside from eating all the Nutella out of my house and home, Mason wasn’t unwelcome at my place after school. My stepmom and dad were often away on business (Debbie always accompanied him on trips) or out late for dinner engagements. The fridge was always stocked, which Mason always sniffed out, and before I knew it, he was sitting next to me on the bus home after a day of being ignored by him and his cronies.
I gotta say, I prefer being invisible to being bullied any day.
We’d arrive at my house, make snacks, I’d force him to learn and summarize themes in at least one chapter of our assigned reading, and then we’d have sex.
Yep, sex.
I’m Mason’s secret, and the part of me that’s horrified is nowhere near as large as the desire to be dominated by him.
You like to be dirty.
Mason’s teaching me things I didn’t know existed. He throws my arms up over my head, locks my wrists, and uses his free hand to sink his fingers into my folds and pump, and curl, and pound, until I have nowhere else to look but up.
It doesn’t matter if we’re standing or lying down. He takes me as soon as he sees his chance, whether on the kitchen counter, the living room, the shower, the jacuzzi…
It’s no longer just my dad’s car that’s sullied.
What we’re doing is forbidden, and my feelings for Mason are so wrongly rooted, but I can’t seem to stop. I don’t want to, even when he barely acknowledges me at school save for a singular, searing glance that he blinks away so fast, I’m not sure it ever occurred.
In private, he’ll turn feral, but it’s a ferocious heat, addictive in its intensity, and I submit, because where else would I rather be?
At the moment, we’re lying naked on my stepmom’s Persian carpet in the formal living room that’s never used, save for the annual company Christmas party hosted by my dad.
“I gotta admit something,” Mason says, idly playing with my fingers.
There’s no cover-up happening. Mason lies, fully splayed out with one knee up, in complete confidence and relaxation. I’ve curled into him in an attempt to hide my exposed bits, an instinctive move I doubt he notices, since he keeps reaching down and tweaking my nipple, his dick jerking happily in response.
“What must you confess?” I murmur, nuzzling his neck. It’s these rare moments after sex that Mason’s calm and at ease—but I’d never call him vulnerable.
“The first time I had you, I thought I scared you so bad, I’d never see your tits again.”
I snort into his warm skin, well used to his crassness, but never so complacent that I’m not still startled by it.
“Why would you say that?” I ask.
“Because you’re you. Cute and innocent and pure, and I laid you out on a car for your first time. I thought that’d be it for you. That I’d gone too far. But here we are, laid out on your stepmom’s fancy carpet after fucking like dogs on all fours … I fucking love it. But I’m wondering if you do.”
I pull away from his neck, wondering why he cares. “I’m giving you what you want. I figured that’d be enough explanation for a guy like you.”
“Hell, yes. But what if I said to you that next, I want anal?”
I give a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure, we can try.”
Mason twists his head. His eyes turn to slits when they meet mine. “Who are you?”
“Maybe I’m finally turning into who I’m supposed to be.” I prop myself up on one elbow. “This may surprise you, but I didn’t like to be called bookish, or a nerd, or Big Mack, Mason. I hated being ostracized and made a fool. And yeah, when we started having sex, it was all you. Your choice, your power, your time. But I like this. It makes me feel good.” I reach down, and with more confidence than I’ve ever had in my life, I wrap my fingers around his shaft. “It’s oddly freeing, letting you do what you want with my body.”
Mason searches my eyes. Half his mouth turns up into a smile. “What have I unleashed?”
Hand still on his dick, I stroke, up and down. “Most of my days were spent wishing I was the girl in my romance novels, getting the guy, being introduced to great sex, and having her happy ending. You’ve awakened at least one of those things in me. I’m not about to stop until I’m satisfied.”
Mason grunts, low in his throat, as his hips take up my rhythm. “I’m more the villain in your stories than the hero.”
I whisper into the shell of his ear, “I know.”
Massaging the back of my scalp, Mason tangles his fingers in my hair, then slowly applies pressure. Down.
“Wait just a minute,” I tease, loving that I’m the one causing his brows to furrow with pained frustration. “I want to ask you a question, first.”
“Make it fucking quick.”
“Prom’s next week.”
Mason’s grip freezes on the back of my neck. “So?”
“Be my date.”
“No.”
I release his dick. On a growl, he grabs my wrist and places my hand back on his thick, hard, very hot and swollen shaft. “I wouldn’t make that mistake twice, Mack.”
“I mean it. It’s the only event I’ll ever ask you to.”
“That’s because it’s the last event at school.”
“Not true. Graduation.”
“Sweetheart, I’ll be lucky if I’m allowed on the ceremony grounds, never mind be part of the graduating class.”
I nod like he’s said the exact right thing. “Fine. One dance at prom then. In public. Prove to me I’m not your shameful secret, give me my happy ending, and then we can part ways.”
Mason’s gaze grows suspicious again. “Just like that?”
It’d be wonderful to show up at the dance with Mason on my arm and capping off a shitty high school experience by at last conquering the bully. I could throw it in Amy’s face and all her minions. I can show Mason there’s more to us than sex, despite his natural inclination to shy away.
One dance, just like in my romance novels.
One perfect moment in high school, just like how I’ve fantasized.
Mason will kiss me in front of everyone, and no one will call me Big Mack again.
“Yes,” I say, breathless now. “Just like that.”
Mason mulls this over by wrapping my fingers arou
nd his cock and squeezing. “Deal.”
In one startling move, he rolls so fast on top of me, he might as well be performing night ops in a military exercise. A muffled squeak leaves my throat.
“Now,” he says, his lips brushing against mine. “Let’s seal it with a fuck.”
29
Mason
The show must go on.
I hate that fucking saying, yet I’ve heard it come out the mouths of everyone I’m surrounded by, Jess and my brother included.
It sucks about Mack, but the show must go on. Put more money on the table, man!
McKenna’s flight left on time. She’s gone. Can we get back to professionalism now, Mason? The show must go on.
“Yeah, but for how long?” I mutter as some kid dabs anti-glare powder on my forehead before our photoshoot. He freezes mid-tap, and the death glare I send him doesn’t help.
“They should really clarify when they try to pep talk this shit to me,” I say to him like he knows what I’m talking about. “The show must go on … but only for four more weeks. Then we’ll all do what we fuckin’ want. Doesn’t matter your dick will be tied to a chair for the remainder, Mason, ‘cause you’re our puppet, and you’ll do what we want including fucking who we want you to fuck. Amirite?”
The kid’s anime-sized eyes ping-pong furtively between me and his boss, who’s currently tending to Rex three chairs over. She’s adding extra pancake dust under Rex’s left eye.
“Relax, Mase,” Wyn says beside me. His head is tipped back and his eyes closed as he’s worked on, submitting to the foul-smelling theater makeup like he’s at the goddamned spa. “We prep, we pose, we leave. That’s all we gotta do this morning.”
“You, maybe,” I mumble, then flinch as the kid’s brush gets too close to my eye. “I still have some heads that need rolling.”
“Still don’t know who leaked the info, huh?” Wyn asks.
“Yeah, and I guess I’m not getting an apology,” Rex calls from his chair.
“Both of you, shut it,” I say, then turn to Wyn, waving the kid away. “Unless you’ve found some quality info regarding the narc, I don’t want to hear any more about Mack. And you,” I say over Wyn to Rex, “you deserved a punch to the face for keeping quality info from me.”
Easton chooses this time to speak. “I’m so glad I can only half-hear most of this.”
I glare at him. “You’re next.”
Loud munching draws my attention away from my band members. Brax rattles a half-empty bag of chips on the nearby couch as he digs his hand in for more. He’s not looking my way, instead studying the floor.
“Enjoying your break, Brax?” I ask him.
His chin snaps up. “I’m on break?”
“Exactly.”
Brax wipes his mouth with his sleeve and rolls up the chip bag. “What do you need, boss?”
“A new band to play bass with.”
Brax wipes his hands together and stands. “Other than that?”
I slouch in my seat, submitting to more of the kid. “Water’d be good.”
“Coming right up.”
Brax wanders to the craft services table set up behind us. When he comes back, the photographer also enters the room and makes noises about rounding us up.
I’m praying this doesn’t take long. If it does, I’m walking off, contract or no contract. The sense of betrayal hasn’t lessened, and it’s such fake-ass crap to have to stand with Rex and East pretending.
I’m still not sure what the point of pretense is.
Brax comes up on my left and hands me a bottle of water.
“Did you know, too?” I ask him.
“Know what?” Instead of meeting my stare, Brax’s attention goes back to the floor.
“You’re well aware of what I’m talking about.” I crack open the lid of the bottle.
“Look, I…” Brax shuffles around. Still not looking at me. “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, complicated like Jess warned you to keep your mouth shut and for some reason you find her intimidating.”
“She’s a fucking dragon lady in a tiny suit!” Brax defends.
I say, in all seriousness, “You should’ve given me the heads up. As my brother.”
“Ah, don’t do that. Don’t give me all the guilt.”
“I was side-swiped, B. Did not see this coming, while everybody else did. Do you know what it’s like to be the town idiot?”
“Actually, yeah, I do.”
I dial it back, swigging on my water. “Right. I didn’t mean—”
“I know, man.” Brax throws a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. “Truth, it’s been eating me alive, what I’ve done, and it’s a relief that you now know and you’re not trying to kill me for keeping the info from you.”
I sigh. “I’m tired of trying to kill people.”
“Yeah? Would’ve thought Sorsha’d be next on your hitlist.”
I gain tunnel vision when I look back at Brax. “Why her?”
He shrugs. “Since she’s the reason this all went down.”
Cold plastic crunches beneath my grip. “The reason for what, Brax?”
“You know, Mack leaving, the press knowing what she does, that stuff.”
I might as well’ve doused Brax with the rest of my ice water, because his face loses all color as I stare at him silently and realization sets in.
After working my jaw, I say, “Brax. Explain.”
“I—ah, fuck. You didn’t know. You didn’t…” Brax backs up a few steps. “What were we just talking about?”
“The band breaking up, you fool,” I snap.
Brax’s head bobs forward. “Nocturne Court’s breaking up?”
East and Rex snap to attention.
“Fucking shut up, Brax!” one of them says, but I don’t know who, since all my focus is on my brother, and will remain there until I laser holes in his head.
I leap to my feet, water bottle spraying and cracking against the floor and the make-up kid dancing back like I’ve set fire to myself.
“Brax, tell me what the fuck you know about Sorsha!” I roar.
Wyn jumps so high out of his meditative state, he sheds skin.
Brax holds up trembling hands. “Okay, okay … I … she … she tricked me, Mase. I was in the lobby arranging your car service, since Jess is always sending me on these stupid dog errands, and I ran into her. Sorsha talked about Mack like she already knew something was up, she was all suspicious about Mack, you know? So I repeated the joke you said to me. About Mack being a call girl. I was just kidding! But Sorsha for this look on her face like it could be true, and ah fuck, I knew I screwed up—”
“You said that stuff about Mack? To my ex?”
“It’s not like I confided in her, man!” Brax’s voice rises a few octaves. “Jesus, stop surrounding yourself with such dragon ladies! They’re intimidating! I just wanted her to back off!”
“I’m sure she ran off the instant she was fed that kind of candy. Fuck, Brax. Fuck!”
Wyn comes up behind me, attempting to soothe. “Mase, take a—”
“Touch me and die,” I spit out. “Mack’s life is ruined because of this shit. My shit. And you.” I point to Brax. “I don’t know how you could’ve been so stupid as to—”
“To what? Repeat what I thought was a joke? Confide in a beautiful lady who was paying attention to me? Being nice to me? I’m nothing but an invisible dick in this group. The only other person who noticed me around here was Mack.”
“And you betrayed her,” I say. “The girl who always paid attention to you, even when we were kids, you threw under the bus. Because a Hollywood chick was nice to you.” I ball my hands into fists. “I am so close to—”
Rex and East sidle up beside Wyn. Rex says, “Mase, perhaps you should take this somewhere else…”
I take the sobering moment to glance around the room, where all staff has stopped moving, lights are dangling from inattention, and make-up brushes are frozen in mid-air.
; I swallow. “You’re right, Rex, like you usually are. I’ll take this somewhere else.”
Blasting past Brax and the rest of the crew, I throw open the door.
Brax calls behind me, “Mase, where are you—”
But I don’t hear him after I slam it shut behind me.
I wasn’t kidding. A certain head needs to roll, and if I have anything to do with it, I’ll be throwing it off a plane.
30
McKenna
High School
Senior Prom
I’m not sure how it’s possible, but…
Mason’s on my doorstep.
In a suit.
While getting ready this afternoon, I was mostly convinced Mason wouldn’t show up at the dance, never mind at my home. All I asked him for was one dance. No other expectations were set.
It was with that in mind that I let Debbie do my hair and make-up this afternoon and approve my dress—a pale yellow, strapless silk affair that sets off the red in my hair and compliments my skin—thinking I’d attend prom for a half hour, max, figure Mason wasn’t coming, then leave out the back door.
Prom wasn’t anything I strived for, except in my dreams. But it was also in my dreams that I was popular, had a bunch of friends, and dated the high school quarterback, so it’s no wonder my real life is like dumping a pile of concrete on expectations.
Yet…
Here he is. Mason can’t be farther from a clean-cut, extra muscular QB1, but he is absolutely as handsome as the footballer of my fantasies. Just a darker, crueler, demonic version, which only makes him more seductive.
“You’re here,” I say, once my lips are able to move again. My arm’s like a limp noodle holding the front door open.
“Uh, yeah.” He tangles his hand in his hair as he stares at me, but I have the feeling he’s not really seeing what’s in front of him. There’s a glazed sheen to his eyes and a troubled line between his brows. “Was I supposed to meet you there?”
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