Chapter 29

ELODIE

I was a basket case when I saw the news about Mac. I'd been at the office, and Darren had come in to my cubicle with a strange expression.

"What is it?" I'd asked, instantly worried. I also couldn't help but notice his face was bruised.

Darren grimaced. "Here. I thought you should know before it's published." He handed me his tablet, and I stared down at the screen, unable to comprehend what I was reading.

Hockey star is a BDSM enthusiast? Blades player Cole Mackenzie apparently loves whips, chains, and sex clubs.

I felt sick. I just looked up at Darren with wide eyes. "How . . .?"

"I did my job," he said, surprisingly gently. "I knew that office building had more to it. I'm sorry, Elodie. But it was surprisingly easy to get people to talk."

"You bribed them."

He shrugged. "We pay anonymous tipsters all the time. This isn't a new thing." He took his tablet back and stuffed it into his bag. "But I wanted to give you a heads-up."

I nodded. I couldn't fault him for doing his job. Because he was right; this was just an assignment. Mac was a celebrity, and we wrote about celebrities.

Oh, Mac. What are you going to do?

The story was published and all over the Internet by the end of the day. Roy was ecstatic, although he kept giving me dark looks. I was sure he knew I'd lied about being unable to find any dirt on Mac.

I called Mac multiple times, but he wouldn't pick up. I left him three voicemails. I tried to explain that I wasn't the one who'd published the story, but did it matter? I'd been the one to give Roy the address to the club in the first place.

The following day, I was working from home, but Roy called me, telling me to come to the office ASAP. Is he going to fire me?

I drove into the office, almost not caring what happened to my job, even as I'd gotten a bunch of bills that morning that were overdue. The water company was threatening to turn off my water by the end of the month if I didn't pay. Who needs running water anyway? I thought in despair.

I went to Roy's office right after I arrived, steeling myself for the inevitable.

But to my surprise, Roy wasn't angry. He looked like he was at a complete loss.

"Sit down," he said gruffly.

I sat and folded my hands to hide their shaking.

"I got an interesting call this morning," he said, shaking his head. "From Cole Mackenzie's publicist."

Now I was the one who was confused. "His publicist?"

"She wanted to schedule an interview. Now, here's the kicker. Mackenzie wants you to interview him. Nobody else would do." Roy's eagle-eyed gaze pierced straight through me. "Now, why would that be?"

I gaped at Roy. "There must be some mistake."

"Oh, there's no fucking mistake. I made the woman clarify three times. Apparently, Mackenzie wants to ‘address the rumors head-on' or whatever bullshit." Roy scowled. "We don't do interviews. We're a gossip rag. Have you ever done an interview?"

"A few. It's been a while."

Roy grunted. "Well, that's better than none. They want to do the interview on Friday. I told them you'd do it."

I didn't understand. Why would Mac want me, of all people, to interview him? Was this some kind of revenge scheme?

"I'm assuming they want to vet my questions beforehand?" I asked.

Roy chuckled. "No, they don't. They said ask whatever you want. Fuckin' crazy, right?"

I told Roy I'd start preparing my questions right away. Although he confirmed that Mac's team didn't want to see the questions ahead of time, I planned to send them anyway.At the very least, I wanted Mac to know I took this assignment very seriously.

I knew I shouldn't, but I tried calling him again. I realized, rather wildly, that this interview might be the last time he'd ever speak to me.

I have no choice, do I? I thought to myself as I stared at my laptop that evening. I didn't even know where to begin. It didn't help that I already knew a lot of the answers people would want me to ask.

How did you get into BDSM?

Why did you join a sex club?

Are you a sub or a Dom?

Have you ever had a normal relationship?

Were you always like this? When did this all start for you?

I felt a headache coming on. Even as exhaustion hit me like a freight train, I felt a sense of resolve.

Mac clearly believed I could do this. He also wanted to set the record straight. The least I could do was make sure my interview was thoughtful and insightful. No gotchas, no attempts to back Mac into a corner.

I love you, Mac. But what is your endgame here?

When I arrived at Dawn's pottery studio in Malibu, she didn't seem surprised to see me again. I was impressed that she remembered my name.

"I saw online that you and Mac are an item," she said with a wry smile.

I blushed. "We're not an item."

"Really? Did you break up?"

I sighed. Where did I even begin? Had we even been dating in the first place?

Dawn saw the look on my face and ushered me inside. "I'm just cleaning up from my last class. You can help me out."

I wasn't about to protest if it meant Dawn would talk to me. When she handed me a broom and dustpan, she pointed at the front of the studio.

"Get cracking," she said.

I did as she asked. I couldn't help but wonder how Mac had managed to be friends with her, only because he liked to be the bossy one. Had he and Dawn butted heads as teenagers? They both seemed like people who always had to be in control.

Dawn began watering plants near where I was sweeping. "So," she said, "why are you here?"

"I should tell you that I'm a reporter," I said.

Dawn paused and set down her watering can. "Is this an interview?"

I shook my head. "No. This is all off the record. I'm here for a personal reason."

"Because of Mac?" Dawn started watering a large Monstera that took up nearly an entire window. "I heard about Caroline, you know."

"He won't talk to me. I keep trying to call him, and he won't pick up. I tried to warn him but I don't know if it just made things worse."I realized I was babbling, but Dawn just waited for me to clarify.

I forced myself to start from the beginning. I blushed bright red when I told Dawn about The Scarlet Rope and the contract I signed with Mac, but Dawn seemed unfazed. All she said during my storytelling was that I needed to keep sweeping.

"And now he won't talk to me," I ended, throwing up my hands. "Except he wants me to interview him. Make it make sense!"

Dawn frowned as she handed me a trash can to empty the dustpan."You know, I only ever wanted Mac to be happy when we dated. We each had our secrets. But I could never get behind him dating Caroline. Or whatever the fuck it was. Caroline used him for her own selfish ends," said Dawn.

"He kept defending Caroline, even to me," I replied, sighing. "He only seemed open to hearing that maybe their relationship was wrong after Caroline's funeral."

Dawn's eyes widened. "Did you go to the funeral?"

"I did. Why?"

Dawn seemed to look at me with new eyes. "I'm surprised, is all. Mac was always so closed off. Even when we were dating—well, fake-dating—and he was seeing Caroline, he never let me meet her. I mean, I knew who she was. White Rock is a small town, and I'd gone to the Bradfords' church a few times as a kid. But Mac never let me be around Caroline. When I asked him about it, he'd get super defensive."

"I'm not sure that I follow . . ."

Dawn shrugged. "I guess what I'm saying is that it sounds like Mac trusts you."

That statement made me wince. "He used to trust me. He doesn't anymore."

"I think he still does if he's asking you to interview him. He could've gone with any reporter in this city and beyond. Why you? Because he knows you. And I'd bet my bottom dollar that he has feelings for you, too."

Those words made my heart soar. But even as I wanted to believe Dawn, I knew it would be dangerous to do so. For all I knew, Mac had decided to have me interview him to enact some weird revenge.There was no way I could allow myself to get my hopes up only to have them be shattered again.

"Mac would never have let me come with him to Caroline's funeral," Dawn said, breaking through my thoughts. "The fact that he let you come with him? And you met his parents?" She let out a whistle. "Yeah, that's a whole fucking sign right there."

Dawn scrubbed the tables and chairs where students worked on their pottery. She seemed agitated now. "Mac's parents never let him just be himself," said Dawn. "His dad, especially. I remember when Mac and I went to prom. Mac wore a red velvet coat—he looked fucking amazing—but his dad threw a shit fit. Said that Mac looked like a—"

She paused, wincing. "Well, you can guess the word. His dad never accepted him, and his mom just stood by silently and did nothing. When they found out Mac was with Caroline, his dad pretty much kicked him out of the house. Mac only survived because he had hockey to fall back on."

"What's ironic was Mac's dad calling Mac the f-word, when I was the gay one," said Dawn wryly. "He never liked me, though. I had a feeling he knew I was into girls. He'd give me this cold look whenever I came to see Mac."

I took in all this information, and my heart hurt for young Mac. His parents hadn't protected him, had they? They'd only judged him and found him wanting. And when he'd been preyed upon by Caroline, they'd blamed him for it.

"I hate that you lied to Mac," said Dawn, her gaze direct. "But it sounds like you're trying to make amends, at least. Mac isn't an aberration, though. His private life shouldn't be used for gossip fodder."

"I know that. And I agree."

Dawn stared me down, and I had to restrain myself from fidgeting. "Does he know there's nothing wrong with him? That he isn't some freak of nature?"

"I'm not sure. I think he still judges himself," I replied quietly.

Dawn shook her head. "I only ever wanted him to be happy. I still do. We lost touch years ago, but I've followed his career. I'd always hoped he had let go of all that guilt and shame."

"I think with Caroline dying, he's starting to," I said.

"Good. And good riddance to that hag. She used a kid and never faced any consequences for it. May she rot in hell."

I blinked, a little taken aback. But I couldn't disagree with Dawn either. I also hoped that wherever Caroline was, she was finally feeling all the pain she'd inflicted on other people.

When I was about to head out, Dawn gave me a fierce hug. "Take care of him, okay? And tell him I'm thinking about him."

I nodded, feeling tears prick my eyes. "I'm not sure he'll talk to me after this interview."

"He will. He's in love with you. I saw those pictures of you together, and he's let you in to his deepest, darkest secrets. No guy does that if he's not in love. He'll come around."

I hugged her back and prayed that Dawn was right.

I didn't sleep the night before the interview. Couldn't remember the last time I was this anxious. When I got out of my bed and looked at myself in the mirror, I winced. I looked terrible. I had dark circles under my eyes, and I looked pale. I put on more makeup than usual just to make myself seem like less of a zombie.

I was all nerves when I arrived at the hotel where Mac's publicist Olivia had scheduled for us to meet. I'd sent over my final draft of questions the night prior, but Olivia replied that Mac didn't need to see them beforehand.

I was early, so I waited in the lobby for Mac. I got a latte from a nearby café but couldn't even drink it. My palms were sweaty, and sweat had broken out on my upper lip. I just hoped I wasn't sweating through my dress. The last thing I wanted was Mac to see me as a complete mess.

When he arrived, I didn't even need to see him to know he was at the hotel. I heard a commotion near the entrance, and then suddenly, it was over before it'd even begun.

One of the hotel workers came over to where I was sitting. "Come with me," he said. When I hesitated, he gave me a look over his shoulder that seemed to say, I don't have all day.

I followed him into the restaurant attached to the hotel. To my surprise, it was completely empty even though it was lunchtime.Then I saw Mac sitting at a table near the back, away from any windows. He wore a button-down shirt and had his hair slicked back. When he saw me, his gaze pierced straight to my soul.

I started shaking. I swallowed and took a deep breath. This isn't a date. This is work. Act professional.

When I went to Mac's table, I held out my hand. "Nice to see you," I said. It was hard not to reach out and hug him. But I had to remind myself yet again of the boundaries he'd set. Mac raised an eyebrow. He stood and finally shook my hand. The feel of his palm against mine was electric.

"Nice to see you," he drawled.

Although the restaurant was empty, that didn't mean we weren't being watched. There was staff all around us.

When we sat down, I said, "Now, let's get started."