Chapter 22

ELODIE

Mac barely spoke on the flight to Idaho. After he'd gotten off the phone with his mom, he'd told me that he needed to go pack.

"Let me go with you," I'd said before really thinking it through.

Mac had paused. Then he'd just nodded, told me he'd pick me up later, and left. I wasn't sure if he really wanted me with him or if he just didn't have the energy to fight with me over it.

I hadn't seen Mac shed a single tear. He'd been stoic, his jaw clenched, but surprisingly calm despite everything. On the flight, I tried to engage him in conversation, but he kept giving me one-word answers. I eventually gave up and tried to read my book, but I couldn't concentrate to save my life.

We were driven to a hotel in Coeur d'Alene right after landing. Mac had gotten us separate rooms, to my shock.

"It's just to keep the press from going insane," he explained, looking chagrined.

"But I don't think you should be alone tonight," I said.

"I'll be okay. Get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day."

We got up early and met in the lobby. It was an hour's drive to White Rock, and it was once again a silent trip. I wondered why Mac had allowed me to come at all.

But when he took my hand and squeezed it, I knew I'd made the right decision. He needed my support, even if it was silent support.

We arrived at the church and sat in the car for a few minutes. Mac breathed slowly and deeply. I imagined lots of thoughts floating around his mind at that moment. Memories of Caroline, good and bad. Having to face her husband. As bitter as my own feelings were about the Caroline situation, it was hard not to sympathize with him right now.

"It'll be okay," I said quietly.

His lips twisted. "Will it?"

The large and imposing church looked like any other building. It could've been a warehouse, for all I knew. Inside, the lobby was massive, and there was even a café at one end and a bookstore at another.

I was tempted to browse the bookstore, mostly out of morbid curiosity, but I couldn't leave Mac's side. We sat down on a bench and waited for others to arrive since we were a half hour early for the visitation and church service.

"Are we going to the graveside service?" I asked.

Mac shook his head. "I wasn't invited. It'd be awkward, anyway."

We sat and watched congregants slowly arrive. A few recognized Mac; some stared and whispered, while a few came up to him and shook his hand. I was thankful that soon enough, there were so many people that Mac and I could fade into the background.

When we entered the church, I felt dread fill me as I realized this visitation was an open casket. I'd only attended one open-casket funeral as a kid, and it'd freaked me out so badly that I'd had nightmares later.

Mac avoided getting in line to give Caroline's family condolences.

"Dave will probably punch me again," Mac said as we sat in the back of the church.

After the visitation, Mac's dad held a service. I held Mac's hand, but I didn't know if it was more for me than it was for him.

I could just make out Caroline's pale face inside her casket. The blond hair over her head looked like it might've been a wig—it was too perfect. I struggled to feel sad that she'd died. It was probably better that I couldn't see her clearly. I didn't want to remember what she looked like.

Didn't Mac understand that she'd used him? That she hadn't been a good person? I didn't understand his sadness. All I could feel was anger at the woman who'd abused a teenage boy who'd just wanted someone to understand him.

As Bob Mackenzie extolled Caroline's virtues, I felt my stomach twist. I whispered to Mac that I needed to use the restroom and got up.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. Despite the huge auditorium, the walls felt like they were closing in.

Was everyone in this place going to act like Caroline hadn't been an abuser? Or did they just think she and Mac had done nothing worse than have an extra-marital affair?

To my surprise, I spotted Judy on a bench near the café that had closed for the service. She had her hands folded like she was praying. When she caught me looking at her, she motioned for me to join her.

"It's nice to see you again," she said to my surprise. Her expression was sad. "I wish it were under better circumstances, though."

I didn't know how to respond. Did Judy know the whole story about Mac and Caroline? I couldn't imagine how she felt as his mother.

"I wish that too," I replied.

Judy looked at me, her gaze full of something I couldn't wholly define. "Take care of him, okay? And don't break his heart."

I let out a surprised laugh. "I don't think I could if I tried."

"You don't know my boy, then. He has a heart of gold, but he gives it out to people who don't deserve it." Judy looked stern now. "Don't be another person he'll regret."

She got up before I could respond. And then a few moments later, I heard people talking. The service was now over.

I returned to where Mac was sitting. Up at the front, I saw Dave turn to glare at Mac, his face visibly red.Mac was brave for showing up here knowing that Dave would make him feel badly for it.

"We should go," Mac said. He didn't look away from Dave, though. He just nodded tightly at him and then left with me.

I was hoping for a quick return to our hotel, but I knew that wouldn't happen when I saw the huge swath of photographers outside. Who had tipped them off? And who showed up at a visitation like that?

I was disgusted. Mac looked like he wanted to punch everyone there.It made me ashamed of my own involvement in the tabloid press. Being on the other side of it really brought home how tough celebrities have it when you can't even mourn in peace.

"Mac, when did your relationship with Caroline Bradford start?" one reporter asked brazenly, shoving a mic in Mac's face. "Did you know she was married?"

Mac's lip curled. "No comment," he spat.

Flashbulbs went off, and more reporters lobbed questions at Mac as we went to our car. When one guy asked why Mac only went for married women, I could feel Mac wanting to turn around to confront the man.

The last reporter asked Mac, "Did you punch anybody this time?"

Mac stopped in his tracks.For a moment, I thought he was going to lose it and show that last reporter precisely how he could throw a punch.

"Let's go," I said, squeezing his hand. Mac hesitated but eventually kept walking.

A few of the reporters tried to get me to answer questions. I worried that some of them would recognize me—or worse, that I'd know them—but I didn't see anyone I knew.I'd dodged my biggest nightmare. Once we got back into the car, Mac put his head in his hands. He groaned.

"What a fucking mess," he said. "Can you fucking believe those vultures? And who told them I was there? I thought I'd be safe in White Rock of all places."

I felt sick to my stomach. Not just because of what had happened but because those vultures had jobs just like mine. They were there because Mac was a celebrity, and they could make money off him. Because he was rich and famous, it meant that his humanity didn't matter.

"Showing up at a church, too," I said. "Pretty sure you'll go straight to hell for that."

That remark made Mac chuckle darkly. "We can only hope."

We returned to the hotel but only to change. Sitting on the bed, I watched Mac pace back and forth.

"We can get a flight out of here whenever we want," I said.

Mac shook his head. "I don't want to leave yet."

"Really?"

"I need to get out." He had a wild look in his eyes now. "Have you ever seen Idaho? I want to show you. Let's call it another date."

Despite how tired I was, I didn't have the heart to tell him no. I changed into comfortable clothes. Mac met me in the lobby, where he'd somehow gotten a car to drive us around.

"There's a place near Coeur d'Alene that I always loved as a kid," he explained. "I want to take you there."

After an hour's drive, we arrived at a national park. It was a beautiful, mild day. The initial cloud cover had disappeared, and the sun had begun to peek out from under the clouds.

"I always forget that Idaho is part of the Pacific Northwest," I commented.

"Northern Idaho is." Mac gestured at me to follow him.

We went to a nearby shop and rented a four-wheeler. Since I'd never driven one, Mac decided I'd sit behind him as he drove us.

We drove into the mountains, the trees getting thicker around us, the air cooling as we ascended. The scenery was gorgeous, and I felt a peace descend on me as we drove.

When we arrived at our destination—a waterfall surrounded by pine trees—Mac stopped the four-wheeler. We took in the sight, and I could feel the tension melt off him in a wave.

"It's beautiful," I said in awe.

Mac inhaled deeply. "I love this place. I haven't been here in years." His eyes sparkled for the first time since we'd gotten here. "You don't get to see things like this in LA much."

I smiled. "This much green? No way."

Mac took my hand, intertwining our fingers. We watched the waterfall and the birds flying to and from the surrounding trees.At that moment, I felt our connection deepening. And it scared me because I knew that our relationship was always meant to be temporary.

I thought of Judy's warning. Did I really have the power to break Mac's heart? I shuddered at the thought. I couldn't bear the idea that I'd hurt him. But wasn't I the one who should be guarding my heart, not Mac?

"Caroline never liked nature," he said quietly. "Once, I tried to get her to go hiking with me, but she refused. Told me it was a waste of time. I'm not sure that woman even owned a pair of hiking boots."

A tear snaked down his cheek. I leaned against him, hoping I could lend him some strength.

"I'm sorry." That was all I could think to say.

"We didn't even like the same things. Well, besides BDSM." His tone was darkly wry. "She was twenty-five years older than me, yet she had this hold over me. You know, when my mom told me she'd died, I felt relief."

His gaze caught mine. I could see the pain in his eyes.

"Does that make me a piece of shit?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Your relationship was complicated. And she was sick. I would bet she's relieved to no longer be in pain."

"That's the thing. It wasn't about her. It was about me feeling free." He shook his head. "Never mind. I'm talking bullshit. We should go."

When Mac decided that we should leave Idaho altogether, I didn't protest. I was also ready to get back home to LA. By the time we got on the private plane, I could feel the tension melting from my own body.

Mac, however, didn't seem to relax. Instead, he seemed to get even more agitated. He kept pacing on the plane; when he did sit down, he just stared out the window and drummed his fingers against the armrest.When I suggested he read or play a game on his phone, he just grumbled something and kept staring out the window.

It was like watching a caged tiger. I kept expecting him to pounce on me at any moment.

Despite his predatory behavior, I wasn't wise enough to avoid him. I went back to his house with him, but not before Mac warned me away.

"I'm not in the mood to be nice," he said, his eyes dark.

I swallowed and lifted my chin. "I'm not afraid of you."

He chuckled, but there was no humor in it. When we arrived back at his house, it was late. But neither of us was tired.

Mac took me straight upstairs to his bedroom. He opened the closet that led to all his BDSM things: whips, chains, ropes, dildos, vibrators, and a plethora of other things. When he came out with a flogger, I almost ran in the opposite direction.

He stared me down. "You have one last chance to leave," he said quietly.

"I'm not leaving."

He gazed at me long and hard, and then something came over his expression that made me shiver.

"Take off your clothes," he commanded.

I obeyed, my body responding to his eyes on me. My nipples hardened, and I saw him inhale sharply.

"Get on your hands and knees," he then said.

I hesitated a moment, only for Mac to use the flogger lightly on my ass. I gasped.

"Get on your hands and knees." His tone was unlike anything I'd heard before.

Although he'd warned me that I couldn't get away now, I still had the safe word. I knew without a doubt that Mac would stop if I asked him to. I just had a feeling that he needed me to take what he had to unleash. Perhaps it wasn't so much warning me as it was warning himself that he was at the point of no return.

I got on my hands and knees. Then I felt the flogger on my ass, harder this time.

"Don't move," he instructed. "Don't make a sound. This is your punishment, Elodie."

I nodded at the same moment he hit me once, twice, three times with the flogger. The strikes were sharp but brief, the pain intense yet pleasurable at the same time.

When he moved from my ass to my back and shoulders, I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Despite my best efforts, I couldn't help but make noise.

Mac's fingers trailed gently down my spine. "What did I say about making noise?" His voice was as gentle as his fingers now.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

He whipped me harder for that remark. He flogged me until I was crying—whether tears of pain or tears of pleasure, I could no longer tell.

Through it all, though, I never once was afraid of Mac. I wanted him to use me. I wanted him to pour out all of his own pain and anguish onto my body.

I was sore, my back and ass stinging like crazy when Mac finally gave me a brief respite. But that was only to undress himself. His hard cock was already dripping.

When I tried to reach for him, he slapped my hands away. "Not tonight," he growled.

Then he kneeled and thrust inside me from behind. I dug my fingers into the rug as he pounded into my body, his fingers digging into my hips.

"That's a good girl. Take my cock," he crooned. He moved faster and faster, his cock relentless. I could only press my face against the floor and hide my moans as best as I could.

"Tell me you want my cum," he commanded.

When I didn't respond, he grabbed me by my hair, pulling me up. I yelled.

"Tell me, Elodie," he snarled.

"I want your cum," I sobbed.

He grunted and fucked me until I could feel his cock pulse inside me. Right before he pulled out, I came, my pussy clenching around his length.

He swore, and then I felt him coming on my back and ass cheeks. I could only shudder and moan, my entire body now total jelly.

I wanted to collapse, but Mac wasn't done with me. Not yet. He flipped me over and thrust back inside me, my legs hanging over his arms.

"Mac, oh my God—"

"You'll never get away from me. You hear me?"His gaze drilled through me, and I couldn't bring myself to look away. I'd never seen Mac this wild and uncontrolled. I pulled him down and kissed him. He grunted and kissed me at the same time he brought me to another body-wracking orgasm.

"Elodie," he groaned. "Fuck, Elodie."

He said my name like a prayer. At that moment, I knew that I'd never get Mac out of my heart. He'd invaded and conquered my very soul.

Mac collapsed on top of me, panting. We were both sweaty and exhausted. My entire body was sore. Mac had to help me up, even carrying me over to the bed.

He made sure to use a cool washcloth on my back, kissing the welts he'd left. Now that the adrenaline had dissipated from my body, I felt the full effects of the flogging.

Mac got up and returned with a glass of water and some pills. "So you can sleep," he explained.

I didn't even ask what he was giving me. I took the pills and sighed when Mac rubbed some cooling liniment into the welts. Although it stung at first, it felt like heaven a few moments later.

"You should get some sleep," he said.

I smiled and then yawned. "I'm getting there." My eyelids were suddenly heavy. "What did you have me take?"

"Something to put you to sleep," was his wry response.

I yawned a second time. Despite the heaviness in my body, though, my mind just wouldn't shut off. I couldn't stop thinking about the look on Mac's face when he'd brought out the flogger.

I wasn't mad at him for using it. But I was confused. Was it fair that he'd taken out his anger on me when he was angry with Caroline? Was it healthy? I didn't know. I didn't know how to process everything that had just happened. Although I'd told myself I'd wanted him to unleash all his feelings, I now wondered if I'd made things worse.

Or maybe you're just hurt that he used you like that .

It didn't help that whatever pills Mac had given me made me groggy. All I wanted was to fall asleep, but my brain wouldn't let up. I could see Mac in my mind's eyes, warning me. I saw the darkness there. I'd never seen Mac go to a place like that before.

What if that happened again? Was he going to punish me whenever he was angry about something outside his control?

I turned over, groaning silently, and stared at Mac's back. I could tell by his breathing that he was asleep.

Oh, Mac. What the hell are we doing?

When I'd signed that damned contract, I'd told myself this was just about exploring a kink. That we'd have some amazing, raunchy sex, and that'd be the end of things.

How could I have been so naive? Our lives had become intertwined to the point that I knew if we ended things, we'd feel the pain of that separation as much as I'd felt the pain of the flogger tonight.

Tears pricked my eyes. I didn't even know who to be angry with: Mac? Caroline? God? Myself? All of the above?

Caroline, I wish you could see what you've done to this man. Maybe then you'd have some remorse.

I couldn't regret helping Mac relieve some of his own pain. But I also knew I didn't have infinite strength to bear the brunt of his dark side either. Mac would have to deal with his past on his own. Otherwise, he would never be able to move on.

Finally, blessedly, the meds kicked in, and I fell into a restless sleep.