But they were brief moments.
“It’s powerful enough for me,” he’d said. “And you can tell yourself that making this little fact public won’t bother you a bit. But you’d be lying.”
“I don’t want to be owned, Bric.”
“Elias,” he corrected me. “And you definitely do. This note proves it. Besides, it won’t matter. People will believe it. They’ll see you differently, Nadia.” He whispered that last part. “They’ll see you as pathetic, and stupid, and weak.” He leaned into my ear for the second half of that threat.
And then he drew back and smiled at me. “Of course it’s a lie. You’re none of those things.” He shrugged. “But will it matter?”
Dick.
Now, I’m sitting in my apartment holding a hot cup of tea in my hands, staring out the window, eyes blurring the city lights in front of me, thinking up ways to get even with him.
Because he’s right. People will believe that note even though it’s not true. And maybe they never say anything to me, or anyone else. It doesn’t matter. They have that note in their head and I will turn into this pathetic, stupid, weak person that Bric made me into.
He’s not going to get away with this. Never. I will die fighting before I will let him change people’s perception of me.
Plan something, Nadia. Now.
OK, calm. I’m calm.
He wants to believe he can control me. Dominate me. Bend me to his will. Make me submit. But he needs to believe he’s the reason it’s happening. Because I’m not naturally submissive, right? I’m like him. We’re two sides of the same coin. So if he can get me to bend that makes him… special.
Oh, Elias Bricman. I have you now, honey. You want to be special? I can make you feel special. I can fuck with your head just as much as you can fuck with mine.
I grab my phone and press his contact number.
He picks up on the first ring. “Hello, Nadia.”
“Hello… Elias.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Perfect,” I say. “But…” I pause. Count the seconds until he gives in and has to ask.
“But? What?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “For those slaps. And being difficult earlier. I know I apologized already, but I don’t think it was sincere enough. So I’d like to try again.”
If he were here in front of me, I’d see that eyebrow shoot up his forehead in surprise. But he’s not. So I just imagine it instead.
“I’m not sure if I believe you more now, or then,” Bric says.
“And I just want to say goodnight. And thank you,” I add. It’s a nice touch. “For the great New Year’s Eve experience. I haven’t talked to Jordan yet but he’ll probably come for lunch tomorrow so I’ll tell him then.”
“He’s busy tomorrow,” Bric says.
“Oh,” I say, adding in a wistful sigh.
“He called me a little while ago and told me to tell you he won’t be around this week. But we’re gonna house-hunt without him.”
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.”
“I know.” I laugh. “Don’t be stupid. It’s for my dad. He’s buying a house.”
My dad? Oh, my God.
“Oh,” Matthew says, hand on hip. Pursed lips on face. “So you’re moving in with him? Chris just told me you’re vacating the apartment. I think I’ll apply for it.”
“You should,” I say brightly as I take the envelope back and stuff it in my locker.
“Elias Bricman though,” Matthew says, rubbing his chin in a gesture that says he doesn’t believe a fucking word I’m saying. “I didn’t know he’s a real-estate agent.”
“I think he owns houses there.” I leave it at that. Just grab my water bottle and go to class.