Page 54 of Dr. Bad Boy

"No, Lizzie, don't do it. I don't care if they're dangling an Oscar in front of you—" Because I already know that's what this is about.Fuck. I hate Hollywood, and I hate the shine of that stupid trophy, like all the others, that make people stupid in its pursuit. I sigh. "It's not worth it. You'll look back and hate yourself for participating in his ego-stroking."

I nearly choke on the last words, because Victor's ego isn't the only thing that gets stroked on a regular basis. The man is the sickest deviant in California.

He's also the man who introduced me to kink.

Not that he meant to. He wasn't even aware that he was doing it. Because for Victor Jenkins, inviting twelve-year-olds to a party where there are slaves led around on leashes is no big fucking deal.

And that was just the first night.

Victor Jenkins is also one of the reasons I left Hollywood, left my parents, left my life.

He was going to direct my first feature length film, and I just couldn't do it—there was no way I was going to spend three months on a set with him and the personal filth he dragged into his professional life.

The next year the first rape accusation came out.

And went away.

As soon as it did, my parents put the pressure back on for me to return before my star faded away.

Instead, I filed for formal emancipation and never looked back.

Fade away?

I wanted my star to burn out, turn to dust, and be forgotten completely.

When I went into medicine, one of the big appeals of paediatrics was that none of my patients had ever seen my show. Netflix has changed that now—thanks, fuckers—but it's been more than twenty years. I don't look anything like that bright-eyed kid anymore.

The beard helps.

Talking to Lizzie brings it all back, though.

And on the other end of the phone, she's still silent.

I groan. "You want to do it."

"Everyone does a Victor Jenkins film, Max." She sounds genuinely torn, and I get that, I do. She's not wrong. Everyone does. None of the rape accusations have stuck to him, and he's a creative genius.

If I were an actor, it might be hard to say no to his projects…

No. No it wouldn't be. I shake my head. I know I hold myself, and everyone else, to a high standard on this point, but he's a monster.

"Is there something I can do to help?" She's called me for a reason. She wants me to talk her out of this. No, she wants the moral support to make the right call and it still be a good career move. I frown. "Tell me more about the project."

I grab a dish of chicken curry and stick it in the microwave as she launches into a pitch for the film.

17

Violet

Max toldme he wanted to keep me off-kilter, so I don’t let it get to me that I haven’t heard from him by mid-week.

This was our agreement.Myterms. During the week, I need to work and he needs just be a client.

On the weekend…that’s a different story. And I’m sure I’ll hear from him.

And yet it’s still a surprise when my phone vibrates at six in the morning on Friday. I’m buried under blankets, because November has come in with a cold snap that physically hurts. I fumble for the phone and pull it under the covers with me.

Max has sent me a text.

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