Page 18 of His Turn

Is that… strange? I wonder about this as he lifts my hair out of my coat and arranges it along my back.

“Bric’s in the car,” Jordan says in his low, gruff voice. He’s not unhappy right now. In fact, he seems a little subdued.

I turn around and reach for my small clutch bag on the foyer table. “Is everything OK?” I ask.

He gives me a questioning look. I’m not usually interested in his moods. Beyond horny, that is. “Yes, why?”

“You seem… quiet.”

He shrugs. “I’m not.”

“Well, you look nice too,” I add for lack of anything else to say. He is quiet. Something is wrong. But… whatever. I’m not really interested. So the compliment is just a time filler. “I like this suit. Is it new?”

“Yes,” he says, looking down at himself. And then he smiles. “My mother gave it to me for Christmas.”

“Did she?” He’s never talked about his mother before. And I had no idea where he was for Christmas Day. But apparently, he was with family. Good for him.

“Yes,” he says, holding out his arm for me. I take it and we step out into the hallway, turning together, just enough so I can pull the door closed behind us. “She says I’m big and important now, so I should dress the part.”

“The other bazillion-dollar suits weren’t up to her standards?”

We both grin as he shakes his head. “God, don’t get me started on my fucking mother and her goddamned standards.”

I smile all the way down the hall, picturing his uptight mother. I met her once. By accident. God, I was horrified when I realized who she was. Where I was. Jordan took me to a party just before Christmas. I only said yes because I mistakenly presumed it was a work thing.

It wasn’t. It was a family thing. At his parents’ home, if you can call a twelve-thousand-square-foot mansion in Cherry Creek a home.

He fucked me senseless in his childhood bedroom.

And just thinking about it now kinda makes me wet. I wonder if we’ll fuck tonight or if it will be all games?

“What is going through that dark mind of yours?” he asks me as he waves me into the elevator.

I wait for the doors to close and the car to descend before I answer. “Fucking you tonight,” I say. “What else would I be thinking about?”

“Do you think we will? Fuck tonight?” He’s trying to hide a smirk.

“Why wouldn’t we?” I ask.

“You might not like Bric’s terms.”

“Hmmm,” I say. “Should I be worried?”

The elevator doors open and he waves me through. “Yes, Nadia,” he says with a long sigh. “You should. He’s not like me.”

“What’s that mean?” I can see Bric through the lobby doors. He’s waiting in the car. We walk down a few steps and cross the main lobby. There’s a few people having drinks at a bar. A few more sitting in small gatherings, talking. This place reminds me of a hotel.

“He’s very good at playing games.”

“Well, so are you, right?”

“No,” he says, serious. He opens the vestibule door and waits for me to enter. The doorman is busy outside, talking to someone. But he sees us and jogs to get the second door before we reach it. “He’s serious. This game he plays, Nadia, it’s fucking real to him, OK? So don’t push the guy too far.”

“Or what?” I ask, just as the doorman opens the door for us and we step out into the cold winter night.

“He’s been known to… go too far sometimes. He’s dangerous.”

“And you’re not?” I just barely get the words out before we reach Bric’s waiting car.