Page 75 of His Turn

I roll my eyes. House-hunt. Jesus Christ.

“What time do you get home tomorrow?”

“Well,” I say softly. “The camp stuff is over now, so I have rehearsals until two.”

“So you’re off at two now?”

“Yes,” I say, trying not to sound regretful. Not because of class, but because now he’ll want to dominate my days as well as my nights

“Perfect. Be down in your lobby at three. Wear something classy and make sure you’re smiling.”

He hangs up.

I just stare at the phone. I’m so pissed off for a few seconds, my hand shakes. But I take a few deep breaths, picture my plan in my head, and let it all out.

Elias Bricman wants me to be the slave of his dreams? Wants to own me? Dominate me? Make me submit?

I can do that. If it gets me the payout at the end, I can most definitely do that.

“Nadia?” Chris says the second I walk through the door of the company.

“Yes?” I say, anxious to get to class. I’ve missed it. I’ve missed pushing my body beyond its limits. Making it bend to my will.

“This was just delivered.” She’s holding out a large yellow envelope.

“Who’s it from?” I ask, reaching for it.

“Elias Bricman,” she says through her smirk. “Are you dating him? I thought you were dating that Jordan guy? I like him. He’s fucking hot. But Elias Bricman. Jesus, Nadia. Tell me how you do it.”

“Do what?” I ask, staring down at the envelope. He put his fucking name on it. And I recall that one conversation we had. The one where I warned him about the gossip that would start circulating if people from the company saw us together.

That dick. He did this on purpose. I want to be owned. He used my own words against me. Dick.

“How do you get all these deviant men to like you?”

I drag my eyes off the envelope and meet her gaze. “He’s helping me find a house, Chris. That’s all.”

“But you live in a company apartment. Why do you need a house?”

I want to tell her to mind her own fucking business. And I would. If this was last week. But I can’t, because this is today. And Bricman has a picture that will change people’s perceptions of me. “Oh, I just want to make sure people who need that apartment more than I do can live there.” It’s a stupid excuse because I make no money as a dancer, and my rank of demi has only slightly better pay than the other girls in the corps. But it makes me look generous. Magnanimous.

“So sweet of you,” Chris says. I’m not sure she’s buying it because I’m naturally bitchy and she’s caught on to that fact. But it gets me through her questions.

“Gotta run,” I say. “If you know anyone who needs that apartment, you can tell them I’m moving out soon.”

I don’t wait for her answer, just take my envelope to the locker room and dump my bag. I’m a few minutes early, people chatting as they adjust their clothes, slip on their shoes. Whatever. So I rip open the envelope and peek inside.

“What’s that?”

“Jesus, Matthew. Way to sneak up on a girl.” He’s leaning over my shoulder to get a look at my envelope.

And lucky me. It’s nothing kinky or threatening. It’s just real-estate brochures. “Just house-hunting stuff,” I say.

“Lemme see!” he says, grabbing the envelope out of my hands. “What the…” He holds the brochures in his hand and I’m immediately sorry I mentioned the house hunt.

Because those brochures are for multi-million-dollar mansions in Cherry Creek. The swankiest neighborhood in the entire city.

“You…” He shakes his head. “You can’t afford these houses.”