Dorian pulled Mackenzie into Elijah's office and slammed the door behind them before pacing back and forth in front of the large desk and nervously running his fingers through his hair.
"Oh, this is a brilliant plan of yours to hide from danger in my father's office," Mackenzie spat at him and rubbed her wrist where he'd grabbed it. "The hallmark of a true genius!"
"You don't have the room to talk," Dorian returned. "It's not like you've ever been the queen of good ideas, Mackenzie Mikaelson!" He reminded her, stabbing a finger in her direction.
"I feel I need to remind you that we're standing under my parents' roof, Mr. Gray," Mackenzie pointed out dryly, chin raised. "I don't think it's too much to ask for you to lower your voice."
Dorian growled in frustration and shut his eyes tight for a second before opening them again and glaring at her. "Don't you dare call me Mister Gray at this point in the game, young lady," he warned.
"Fine," she sighed and rolled her eyes. "Dorian then. "What are you trying to prove with all this? Do you want to alert the whole household and all the guest that…"
"That what?" Dorian pressed, getting up close to her and staring deeply into her eyes. "That you thought you'd have a little fun and play me for a fool?"
She stared back at him, breathing heavily. "That's not true!" She cried. "That wasn't my intention at all, and don't go putting words in my mouth!"
"Well, if it's not and you're so sure of it, the least you could do is have the decency to explain what was in your head when you put me through all this!" He stared at her, unwavering.
Mackenzie shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "I didn't mean any harm by taking this job. Angelica Mikaelson gave me the opportunity of a lifetime when she hired me to work for her company. When I heard that you wanted something done with your penthouse, I knew I was capable of doing anything and everything you requested…design-wise that is."
"I wasn't going to think you meant anything else," Dorian assured her, rolling his eyes. "I mean, not when you first crossed my threshold, anyway. But now I wonder how far you're willing to go."
Mackenzie's eyes narrowed. "Oh, don't flatter yourself. Anything connected to you has always been about business for me!"
"Which is why you probably felt no need to consider the possible complications of accepting an assignment involving me…even if it meant you had to hide your identity?" Dorian questioned through clenched teeth. "Or how easy it would have been for us to end up in bed together?"
"Don't flatter yourself," she blushed. "And I wasn't worried about that because I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt and think of you as a gentleman who wouldn't do anything untoward to a woman come to work for you. Was I wrong? Should I suspect that you're capable of anything, good or bad?"
"Do whatever you want," Dorian growled. "I don't give a damn anymore. Nor am I flattering myself; just stating a fact: if you hadn't disappeared, I have no doubt we'd have ended up in my bed!"
"What did you expect me to do?" She asked and pushed him away. "Admit that I was your ex-wife's daughter so you wouldn't lay a hand on me? There's not a chance of that, so I don't know what you're so worried about. You and I both know that the only woman you think about, and that you'll always think about, is my mother!
That got him. He grabbed her arm, pulling her forcefully to him, causing her body to hit his chest, her hands gripping his shoulders to keep herself from falling as his hands went around her waist.
"Don't pretend you know what I feel or don't feel, Mackenzie Mikaelson. That would be a big mistake on your part," he murmured before crushing his lips against hers.
Startled, she did her best to free herself from the forced embrace, but his lips were hard, and he smelled like a mix of scotch and very nice, expensive cologne. She opened her lips so he could invade her mouth, returning his kiss fervently.
Then they both were startled by the doorknob on the office door turning. They separated quickly, wiping the kiss off their lips.
"Mackenzie?" Elijah asked, looking at her in surprise as he entered his office. Then he turned his gaze to Dorian and glared at him with disfavor. "What are you doing in my office with my daughter, Mr. Gray?"
"It's okay, Daddy," Mackenzie said quickly before Dorian could speak, raising her right hand to stop him from coming any closer. "I needed to talk to Mr. Gray privately and thought here would be a good place to do it. I apologize for invading your private space."
"Don't worry, dear," Elijah shook his head. "But why? What would possibly make you decide you needed to invite Gray anywhere, much less somewhere private? I'm sure you can understand why I'm concerned." He looked them over. "But I suppose I can at least be relieved that you're both fully clothed."
Mackenzie blushed deeply at this remark but still had the wherewithal to hold Dorian back as he made the move to attack her father. "Well, it's just that…I know from earlier that you were really bothered by your earlier exchange with Mr. Gray here, and I wanted to tell him that although and Mom have a history and are sharing my half-brother, you and Mom are very much in love, and he needs to understand that."
Dorian just sighed deeply at the excuse and shook his head.
"Oh, sweetheart," Elijah smiled and approached his daughter to kiss her forehead. "It's a nice thought, but not something you needed to do. Mr. Gray and I are able to discuss our differences in a mature manner. Aren't we, Dorian?" His tone was sly.
"Of course," Dorian replied, clearing his throat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a son to look for." He marched to the door and turned to stare into Mackenzie's eyes. "Ms. Mackenzie Mikaelson, it was a pleasure to meet you. Please let me assure you that I have no remaining feelings for your mother." He the gave both her and Elijah a brief nod and stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind him.
Once Elijah was sure Dorian was gone, he took Mackenzie into his arms and kissed her hair. "Thank you, my darling, but that was unnecessary. I am more than capable of fighting my own battles with Dorian Gray. I can do it, I promise you. It's nothing you need to get involved with."
"I know you can," Mackenzie nodded, closing her eyes to try and regain her calm. "And just in case, I want you to know that I can too." Then she let her breath out and tried to relax. That had really been a close call!
Eric Anderson raised a coconut half to his lips and drank the milk out of it. Then he smiled with satisfaction, looking at the sea, showing off its beautiful blue to him as he rested beneath a palm tree.
Then, he narrowed his eyes unhappily as a shadow suddenly blocked his beautiful view. He grunted and sat up, blinking several times before staring at Kristin, who was pale as a ghost.
"Could you move?" he snapped, wishing she was close enough that he could push her out of the way himself. "You're blocking my nice view and all the sun!"
"Oh, boo hoo!" She snapped and stuck her tongue out at him before crossing her arms.
"I tell you what, I sure do!" He replied. "How about you get your ass to the other side of the island and leave me the hell alone?"
"I can't do that!" She shook her head and stomped her feet, leaving imprints in the sand. "It's impossible!"
"I don't see why that is?" He peered at her with the side of his hand resting against his forehead to shade him from the son. "You take your feet and your lovely ass, you walk that way…" he pointed at the horizon. "And you stay there!"
"Fuck you!" She lashed out.
"I'm not interested, sorry," he grinned.
"Trust me, I'm not either," she cried. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to be assured I'd never see your stupid face again!" Then she kicked some sand with her right foot and sent it splattering all over his legs.
"Hey, do you mind?" He shouted. "Watch yourself, Princess!" He paused. "If we both want to stay the hell away from each other, why don't we just do it? What's the problem?"
"Well, I know you wouldn't understand, being a smelly, flea-bitten werewolf and all, but…I'm hungry!" She paused. "Don't you see how pale I am?"
He looked down at his knees, a smirk curving his lips. "Open up a coconut. I hear that can be used as a blood substitute. Or catch a fish! Do that so I can watch you and have a laugh."
"I don't want to climb a palm tree and get coconuts or catch a fish!" She cried. "Coconut milk isn't a blood substitute, you idiot. It's a substitute for plasma, which is not the same damn thing! I need blood, you asshole!"
He looked at her in surprise for a few seconds because he hadn't actually expected her to say something intelligent, but she had. Then he gave her a sly smile. "Well, good luck with that, Princess. Though I'm sure that if you look around, you'll find a Robinson Crusoe somewhere, willing to give you a hand with that." He paused. "I mean I know I'm here but you wouldn't lower yourself to drinking the blood of a smelly werewolf like me, right?"
She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossed firmly over her chest. He looked mighty delicious with his muscular bare chest…but that was beside the point. She needed to drink his blood!
To Eric's surprise, she let out a sudden, loud yell and fell to her knees in front of him.
"What was that?" Eric asked, trying not to laugh. "Am I supposed to be scared or something?"
"I beg for some kindness, Eric," she pleaded, tears filling her eyes. "I don't want to die. Not when I'm so young and beautiful…"
"And modest too!" He rolled his eyes.
She gently grabbed his hand, her thumb gently caressing the veins on the inside of his wrist. "I would be willing to do things for you in exchange for some of your blood," she offered, sliding her fingertips over his arm.
"I think I'll pass," he decided, pushing her hand away.
"Fine," she growled, crawling over and straddling him and resting her head on his chest, much to his surprise. "I'll even sleep with you if that's what you want."
Eric threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, that's hilarious!" he said. "Thanks for the thought, but rich bitches really aren't my type, so I'll pass."
Growling, she pummeled his chest in frustration.
"Oh, my gosh, are you done?" He cried, grabbing her wrists at last. "That hurts!"
She began to cry. "I can't believe you're just going to let me die!" she cried dramatically as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I do love the idea, yes," he nodded with a smile. "But then, if it actually happened, I'd have to go into hiding forever because your father, who I have the utmost respect for, will hunt me down and kill me, no matter how long it takes." He let her hands go.
"That's true," Kristin nodded, wiping tears off her face. "So…can I have some of your blood?"
"Oh, fine," Eric held out his wrist. "Do it fast so we can be free of each other."
She nodded and gently grabbed his arm before sinking her teeth into his skin. The second she began to drink his blood, he felt a euphoric sensation of ecstasy. He closed his eyes and leaned against the palm tree to better enjoy the feeling.
Her lips were as soft as honey and though he thought, given how hungry she claimed to be, she would feed frantically and desperately with no control whatsoever, it seemed like she was enjoying herself and taking things slow.
At last, though, he felt her stop feeding, and he opened his eyes once more, staring back into her burning gaze. He lifted a hand and pushed a few blond strands away from her face. She looked beautiful, even with a bit of his own blood trickling down her chin.
His thumb caressed her full lips to wipe that blood away. Then, after a few seconds of silence, he leaned forward, his lips crashing against hers.
She moaned, her hands sliding up his muscular chest before she wrapped her arms around his neck.
He couldn't get over the taste of her lips. Like both of them: Metallic like his blood and sweet like her lipstick.
He growled, grabbing her ass to bring her forward, in contact with a sudden erection.
As their kiss deepened, his eyes widened, and he threw her off his lap.
She stumbled and found herself in the sand. 'What the fuck?" She asked him.
"Language, young woman!" he warned, jumping to his feet. "This. Never. Happened. Okay?"
She first knelt down in the sand and then pulled herself up on her feet. "Fine," she scoffed. "I just wanted your blood and nothing else."
"Fine for me too!" He spat. "Have a nice life!" He turned on his heel and walked away.
She watched him go, raising her fingers to her lips. What had just happened?
Natalie headed into the kitchen, only to find Milo sitting on a window seat looking out the bay window, a beer in his hand. As she made her way further into the large room, she couldn't help but stare outside, at the effects of the strong winds and dark clouds.
"Hey," she gave him a brief wave as she went to open the large fridge. Knowing how Angelica and her father liked to cook in large quantities in case guests popped by at any moment, there were probably some good leftovers ready to be eaten. "Looks like the weather's getting worse."
"I noticed," Milo nodded. "Maybe we should look for flashlights or candles or something in case we lose power."
"That's…that's a good idea." She cleared her throat. "I hope they manage to do the ceremony. It would be a shame to do all that work and then the weather ruins it."
"Your uncle's farm is two hours away from here," Milo reminded her, although he made no effort to catch her eye. "I think they'll be all right and you don't need to worry."
"Right," Natalie took a deep breath. "Can I join you?" She waited for his answer, nervously rubbing her hands together. Then she shook her head. Get a grip, Natalie! You can do whatever the hell you want! It's your ex-boyfriend the wannabe doctor you're talking to, not the King of England!
"I don't see why not, it's your father's house after all," Milo shrugged and even scooted over a little bit to make room for her. "Sorry if your dad told you some rule where I couldn't have any of the food in this house, but it was my first time delivering a baby today. I mean, I watched when Grandpa Sean helped a woman deliver last week, but it's not the same as me actually doing it myself."
Natalie nodded. "Go ahead and take what you need. Daddy hasn't told me about any rules like that, and I'm sure that he'd agree you should have something after what you just did." She looked around at some of the more delicate furnishings, especially the copy (she thought it was a copy) of Degas' The Dance Class that hung over the sofa in the living room. This definitely wasn't just her father's house anymore. "I also promise I won't tell your sister that you consider this just my dad's house. That way she won't kill you in your sleep." She paused. "She would want you to have a reward for your hard work too."
"I'm sure she would," Milo nodded and watched her take a swig of beer out of the corner of his eye. "And if you did happen to tell my sister, she wouldn't kill me in my sleep. She'd want me to see it coming."
For some reason, that made Natalie start laughing and spit out her beer. The laughing quickly turned into coughing and soon Milo was pounding on her back.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Natalie took a deep breath. "I'm fine. Thank you." She paused, surprised by the concern in his dark eyes. But it was just there for a moment and then disappeared, which made it easy to ignore. "Like I was saying, your sister would want you to have a reward too, and it's her house as much as my dad's so…I…it's not my place to tell you to leave here."
"How generous," Milo remarked and took another drink. "Even though it's what you did earlier."
She blushed and bit her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry about that…I didn't know you could…"
"That I could be useful to anyone? That I was more than just a dumb, useless one-time rich boy?" He stared intently into her brown eyes. "Well, now you know you're wrong. And I was happy to help Michelle deliver her baby, even if my having to come upset you."
"Of course," she nodded and cleared her throat, looking away from him and going back to her beer for a little bit. "I do owe you an apology. Like I told you before, it wasn't my place to tell you to leave cause since I don't live here, I shouldn't decide who comes in and out."
What was she supposed to do or say to the guy sitting next to her? He clearly wasn't Milo Morningstar. He was someone who had taken the real Milo hostage.
They sat in silence for a few minutes before Natalie felt the need to start talking again. "I left Nico and his son in the old nursery. He sat in the rocking chair with the baby in his arms and he hasn't let him go since you tried to…since you talked Michelle through feeding him."
"Lucky boy," Milo nodded. "It's nice when a father really wants to bond with his son."
"Oh, for sure," Natalie nodded. "Michelle still wasn't very enthusiastic about feeding him herself, but she gave it a try."
Milo nodded. "At this point, the best thing for her to do is to rest."
"I suppose you're right." Natalie paused. "Do you think she'll be okay? Is she tired and grumpy because she just gave birth, or…" she trailed off, biting her lip.
"Or is she just back to being her usual bitchy self?" Milo supplied, giving her the ghost of a smile.
"Yeah that…" She smiled back. "I mean she's not the first person I would pick to be anyone's mother, but…"
"I think she's tired," Milo replied. "Or maybe it's just the baby blues. Those don't last forever, but your father will need to keep an eye on her for the next few weeks, in case it turns into postpartum depression and needs to be looked at."
"What?" Natalie was wide-eyed. "No, it can't be that! She talked to me on the phone and…and she was so excited about the baby! Scared yes, but excited!"
"Listen," Milo stood up and went to pour the rest of his beer down the sink. "I'm not a doctor yet, I realize, but it's something that needs consideration. Not that I think you're going to do that, because you never do, but…"
"You're right!" Natalie nodded. "Because you always have lied to me, so now I feel I can't trust a single word that comes out of your mouth!" she spat angrily. "I don't get you at all! One day, you're the king of the assholes, a wannabe-doctor the next. You'll have to forgive me if I can't keep up with you!"
"Oh, wow!" Milo got out. "Just…wow!"He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You know, if I wasn't so worried about Michelle's health since she just gave birth, not to mention the bad weather, I would just leave! I wouldn't want to force my company on you any longer than is absolutely necessary!"
Natalie shut her eyes, crossed her arms, and took a deep breath. "For Steve's sake, I never asked you to leave! And did you not hear me say more than once that I'm very appreciative of what you did for Michelle and Nico?"
"Right, but you're not appreciative of me personally," Milo nodded. "I get that loud and clear, don't worry." He looked deeply into her eyes. "But like it or not, we have a lot of the same friends and I'm not going to stop seeing them or living my life because sometimes you get put in my path, Natalie."
"I…I wouldn't ask you to do that," she assured him and shook her head, trying to avoid his insistent gaze. "I just…I don't…I can't…" she stammered nervously, unsure how to finish her sentence. "I just don't know how to be around you anymore or how to feel about this whole new life you're making for yourself."
"Well, I'll make it easy for you," Milo told her. "I'll go in the living room and wait for the storm to pass, check on Michelle one more time, and then leave. Is that all right with you? Do I have your permission?"
"Oh, fuck you, Milo Morningstar!" She spat and then passed by him to leave the kitchen without another word.
"I don't think I'll have the time to fuck anybody with all the work I have to do to get through the Council's medical school!" He reminded her, then disappeared. He didn't care what she thought of that. She could go to hell as far as he was concerned!
Avery made her way to one of the chairs in the beautiful garden where the ceremony would soon take place and sat down.
On her way there, she'd grabbed a descriptive pamphlet made up for the wedding and an organza bag filled with rice. She stared straight ahead, turning only when she heard the chair beside her move. Then she found herself face to face with Malachai, who had just decided to sit down by her, even though there were several other empty seats much further away.
"You didn't take one of these?" She asked, holding up her pamphlet.
"Why would I do that?" Malachai wanted to know. "All that's gonna happen is they'll say, 'I do' and kiss after. That doesn't require a whole descriptive pamphlet."
"You don't have a romantic bone in your body, do you, Malachai Fale?" She remarked and heaved a big sigh.
"Oh, right!" he hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "You're way more romantic than me because of the sheer joy you take in pairing up people who should never be paired up together in a million years!"
"Lower your voice please," she whispered, her dark eyes locked on him.
"Why?" He pressed. "Are you afraid that your next targets are going to know that you replaced God and literally fancy yourself the new Tinder app?" He rolled his eyes.
"Oh, that's real hilarious!" she mumbled through clenched teeth. "Well, maybe I'll be better at it than my father, seeing as how he stuck me with you of all people! A terrible error on his part, but a hilarious one, wouldn't you say?" she replied, tit for tat, laughter escaping her lips.
Malachai glared at her and growled in frustration. "Actually, I would! We've been so free since we broke your father's spell!" he raised a glass of champagne that he held, bringing it to his lips.
"Couldn't agree more," Avery nodded, chin raised. "That's why I've decided I don't want to have my father's position anymore. I want to give it to John Wade instead."
This was such an unexpected announcement that a shocked Malachai began coughing and accidentally spit champagne on the dress of a woman who was getting ready to sit in front of them.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" He jumped to his feet, horrified. "I'm so beyond sorry." He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.
"This dress is made of silk!" The woman snapped and yanked the handkerchief from his hand, dabbing at the stain.
"I'm aware," he nodded. "I'll take care of any charges for cleaning."
"You bet you will!" she snapped, glaring at him and sitting down.
Malachai took a deep breath and shut his eyes before sitting back down and glaring at the beautiful brunette sitting beside him. "Tell me my ears are playing tricks on me," he told her, leaning close and growling under his breath.
"No, I don't believe you have hearing problems," Avery replied as she stared at John, who had appeared out of nowhere and was taking a seat a few rows in front of them.
"Have you lost your damn marbles, Avery? He's not even supposed to be here! He should have been thrown out ages ago!" Now Malachai was white with rage. "He's staying at an event he wasn't even invited to! I wish Selina had succeed in shooting him. The world would be a better place! I can't believe it's him of all people that you want to watch over everything until your father comes back. That's a terrible decision!"
"No, it's not!" Avery shook her head. "And you're Illustrating very well why I want him: he doesn't give a crap about others' opinions just like my father, he can pay attention to what is important, and he's not a big fat whiner like you!"
Malachai ignored this and put a hand on her forehead. "Are you okay? Do you have a fever?"
She pushed his hand away. "Stop it! It's my job, and if I want to give it to someone else that I view as deserving, I can! I can do whatever I please!"
"Oh, my Steve! You're actually fucking serious about this!" He pinched his nose and looked down at his shoes for a moment. As usual, it hadn't taken long for Avery to give him a headache. "I think you've lost your mind! You have to know that everyone and their brother on this earth hates John Wade!"
At that, John turned and stared at Malachai, presumably having heard his name. He smirked and waved. As Malachai fumed beside her, Avery enthusiastically waved back until Malachai grabbed her arm and put it back in her lap.
"Would you lower your voice, Malachai?" she tried to shush him. "That's exactly why he's the perfect man for the job! I'm gonna talk to him next week and see if he's interested."
"I don't know why he wouldn't be! He's a power-hungry lunatic," Malachai mumbled, then looked at her and spoke firmly. "I don't know you. We've never met. And we've certainly never slept together!"
"Fine with me," Avery replied, attention on flipping through her pamphlet. "Music to my ears, in fact!"