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When the crowd dispersed, Jo walked up to Mick, her fingers curling into fists. “May I speak with you?”
Mick turned to her slowly, studied her up and down, and then smiled. “Of course, my darling.”
“Come with me.” Jo led him to her dressing room, away from the curious onlookers. She didn’t want to make a scene. Not in front of her fellow actors and especially not in front of the theater manager who already thought so little of her.
The moment they stepped into the room, Mick moved closer, crowding her in the narrow room.
“What did you want, pet?” he asked as he propped his foot on a chair, bracketing her between him and her vanity.
She pushed at his leg. “First of all, do not muddy my chair.” She wasn’t able to move him more than an inch.
He kept his pose, jutting out his crotch toward her. Then he placed his elbow on his knee and propped his chin. “And second of all?” he asked mockingly.
“Only after you comply with my first request.” Jo tried to be assertive, but her voice shook a little while her gaze darted toward the closed door.
“Then we’ll stand here forever. Not that I mind.”
Jo gritted her teeth. “You know what I called you here to talk about. You stole my play.”
He shrugged. “Did I? It seems to me that it is mine.”
“Everybody knows it’s not true.”
“Do they?” He looked around mockingly. “Because as far as I remember, everybody in the house party knows that the play is mine.”
“Right. And does Mr. Hart know that the play is not new? That we performed it already?”
“With a limited cast and a poor script, yes. But we’ll be expanding it and making it grander.”
“You had no right!” Jo cried, and Mick laughed in her face.
“Prove it,” he said and leaned closer to her, his rotten breath wafting to her nose.
Ire rose in Jo until she couldn’t control it anymore. In a one split-second decision, she pushed Mick with all her might, and he tumbled back onto the floor.
Jo’s mouth fell open as she realized what she’d done, and then a laugh escaped her lips. She clamped a hand over her mouth and kept laughing, unable to help herself.
Mick sat on the floor, his eyes wide, his mouth open in shock. Then his gaze rose to hers, his brows furrowing. He slowly got off the floor and stalked toward her, his gaze menacing. “Oh, you find it amusing, don’t you?” His voice lowered and a bit of his Northern accent slipped through.
She raised her head and met his gaze. “I think it’s well-deserved.”
“Do you, now?” He grabbed her by the hair and tugged up, forcing Jo on her tiptoes.
“Let go, you lunatic!” Jo grabbed his arm with both her hands, trying to get him away from her, to no avail.
He brought his face terrifyingly close to hers. A bit closer and their noses would have touched. “I think you want me. Perhaps your friend Selena told you how good I am and you want your own taste.”
“Let go, or I’ll scream!”
Mick pushed her down, her knees scraping against the wooden floors. She grabbed at his arm for balance, digging her fingers into his skin. “You won’t be able to scream, darling,” he said as his other hand went to undo the falls of his breeches. “Your mouth will be full of my cock.”
“Let go of me!” Jo whimpered, twisting in his grasp and trying to push him off.
Tears pricked at the back of her eyes and blood rushed to her face as panic gripped her, making it difficult to breathe.
Suddenly Mick let go and in the next moment, he flew against the wall. Jo watched wide-eyed as he fell onto a box full of the props Jo used for house parties, successfully breaking it.
Jo tried to scramble to her feet, instead, she fell clumsily onto her bottom and crawled backward until she encountered the legs of her vanity table.
