“Let me go, Mackenna.”
“All right, Dora. But first a parting gift.” Saying my least favorite nickname, he crushes the tomato in one fist, then lifts his hand, dropping little pieces of it over my head, watching me as I gasp and the juice spreads down my face and the side of my neck.
“There you go,” he croons, his smile wolfish as he works his fingers into my hair to make the juice seep deeper. When I struggle to pull free, he grips the back of my head and presses his nose to my ear, making me tense to stifle a shudder. “You just pissed off my entire fucking band. Do you realize the kind of charges we’re going to press?”
Yes, I do. My mother is a lawyer, so I have a pretty good idea.
So why did I think the fact that he deserved it gave me a free pass to be reckless tonight?
Fuck me.
He’s got me fucked.
And he’s so close. I’m strangely paralyzed as his lips move by my ear, causing an unwanted quiver down my legs. My nipples hurt all of a sudden and my body is in some strange contracting mode.
“Are you suicidal, or just looking to leave home? Because trust me, jail won’t be much of an improvement.”
“And your fucking face isn’t much improved with the egg facial I gave you.”
His friends, the twins, explode in laughter, but Mackenna doesn’t.
He surveys me with ill-concealed anger, and somehow I have an acute memory of the last time I looked into those slate gray eyes. His heavy stare and the touch of his tongue on mine zipping like white-hot lightning through my body. Him moving, his hands on my hips, holding me beneath him while I thrash. His groans telling me how much he likes being inside me.
It hurts. The sight of him hurts.
I didn’t expect it to.
As if my proximity has just triggered the same memories in his mind, he blatantly studies my body, his gaze lingering on my breasts, my mouth—a gaze hot and tactile and making me squirm—before he focuses back on my face as he speaks to the others.
“I’ll take care of the damages,” I hear him say, those eyes still on me, ruthless and calculating as if he’s just come to a decision. “And I’ll settle accounts with her directly.”
“Ha! You’re settling nothing with anybody here,” Melanie scoffs.
He lets out a cold male chuckle and pins his attention on her. “What’s your name, Barbie?”
“Melanie Meyers, asshole.”
“Leave her alone—” I start, but he cuts me off with a hand and tells the guards, “Escort Barbie to her car.”
“Dream on, pink wig. I won’t leave without Pandora!”
“This goth is seriously Pandora?” one of the twins finally asks. “Our Pandora? She was supposed to be a myth, dude.”
There’s a tense silence as every one of his team members looks at Mackenna. And I can’t help but notice with a prick in my chest that Mackenna looks none too pleased in a manner suggesting he’d hoped some eighteen-wheeler had run me over at some point, burying his secret.
He’s handed a towel, which he drags over his built chest as he shakes his head, raking his fingers through the beautiful buzz of hair on his scalp as he tries to get all the shit off his head. His silence and the thoughtful lines on his face render me beyond nervous and edgy.
Fuck, I don’t like that he’s taking control of things now.
I don’t like the effect he has on me.
The ways he could torture me.
The power he has over me, knowing how I’m privately afraid of my own mother—he’ll fucking know I will do anything to keep her from finding out.
As he’s about to speak again, Lionel says, “Kenna, a word.”
Mackenna heads over to him, the twins joining the little circle. The twins look like Vikings, and Mackenna a pirate who steals and deflowers girls like me. I can feel them watching us as they speak. Mackenna trails his eyes over my body as he listens. He doesn’t even seem to realize how blatantly he’s checking me out. Checking me from the top of my pink-streaked hair down to my badass boots.
Finally, he looks into my eyes, narrows his own, and shakes his head angrily. “No fucking way.”
“Yes fucking way,” Lionel counters.
Sighing over his front man’s stubbornness—which is a palpable thing, as big as an elephant in the room—Lionel ushers out the Vikings and the pirate, the door slamming shut behind a cursing Mackenna.
Melanie and I remain there for what feels like forever, exchanging a what-the-fuck glance.
The two guards stay in the room, watching us—watching me, especially—while little pieces of tomato slide down my face.
I want to punch something.
Something with gray eyes and a buzz cut.
Mackenna returns and grabs the towel again, the rest of the guys shuffling in behind him. “Just let her apologize to us and clean up her mess, then she can go.” He lifts the towel in the air and signals at me to come over, curling his finger in a mocking way.
“Fuck. You,” I breathe, suddenly seething.
“Mackenna,” one of the guys groans, laughing in an Are you fucking kidding me? She’s got you this worked up? way.
“You two look like nice girls. Well, at least one of you does.” Lionel smiles benignly at Melanie, then takes in my Angelina Jolie attire before scowling and adding, “Look, we can put you both in jail. Even a day can haunt you. Is that what you want?”
“Pan, don’t even listen. Grey will make sure—”
“No, Melanie, this is my problem.” I shake my head stubbornly. It’s not like her boyfriend and I get along that well anyway. Hell, I’m not on good terms with any man, so fuck that. I don’t need rescuing. I’d rather stew in jail for a couple of nights. At least before my mother officially kills me.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” the twin with the tattoo says—Jax, I think. “Just tell her the deets, Leo.”
“No, thanks,” I interrupt before they can even say what they want. “I’d rather do jail time than do him.”
A muscle works angrily in the back of Mackenna’s jaw as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s assuming you could turn me on.”
“Kenna, shut up,” Lionel growls, then he turns to me again. “We’re currently filming for the Crack Bikini movie. Did you know?”
“The whole world knows. I’m just glad you’re not filming now.”
“We were filming during your little shenanigan.” He gestures at Mackenna’s ripped chest. “We’re wrapping up at Madison Square Garden, and now that your existence has been revealed . . .” He looks accusingly at Mackenna, then at me. “Now that we know that there is, in fact, a human Pandora whom our lead may have based his lyrics on, we want you in the movie.”
“She’s not going within an inch of those cameras,” Mackenna grits out as he charges toward the door.
“Jones, listen to me. This is brilliant. People will eat this up with a fucking spoon!”
Mackenna angrily swings the door open. “I’m not interested, so you might as well leave her out of this.”
“Like you left me out of your stupid song, huh, jackass?” I suddenly explode. “And I’m not interested either!”
“I’ll pay you enough to interest you,” Lionel calmly tells me.
Mackenna stops at the threshold, and that glittering serial-killer look in his eyes makes me want to agree just to spite him. God, I hate him. So much so that I feel spikes in my stomach from my rage. But it doesn’t feel like his glower is for me. It almost feels as if it’s for his manager.
Who continues on with building his case. “Look, you two can fight or not, I don’t care. All I care about is that at the final concert, when Crack Bikini performs, you two will be up there and you’ll kiss in tribute to our number one hit—‘Pandora’s Kiss.’ ”
Mackenna laughs, the sound making me feel like someone just crawled over my fucking grave. All the little hairs on my arms are standing on end.
“Lionel, we’ve got this. We don’t need her. The fans want us, not her.” He points at me, then runs his hand all the way through his head to the back of his neck in sheer frustration. Then he storms out through the door, calling with deadly authority, “Leave her out of this or I promise someone will have hell to pay, Leo!”
I don’t know why, but I don’t like him having the last word.
I don’t like feeling as if he’s protecting me from the cameras.
I don’t like any of it, and before I know it, my voice stops him. “Ha! Like your promises ever mean anything, dickhead!” As I speak, I tear free the ring hanging from my necklace and chuck it at the open door.
Time stands utterly still.
Deathly slow, Mackenna steps back into the room to where the ring lies on the floor.
He looks at the small white-gold band with the sparkly diamond resting at his feet, and his expression changes from surprise to anger, then to something I don’t comprehend. He lifts it and looks at it for the longest moment of my life, then he lifts his head and stares at me with an expression that wrecks me on the inside. He clenches his jaw, turns around, and slams the door shut.
I’m trembling.
Battling with the urge to run after him and . . . and what?