His Turn (Turning #3)

I laugh as I pan my hand down at my sweaty dance clothes. I’m wearing sweats, sneakers, and a too-large hoodie over my tank top. “Home,” I say. “I’m obviously not going out anywhere looking like this.”

He starts the car, but says nothing. Just eases his way out onto the street. I only live a few blocks away, so I get right to the point. “I know I already said I was sorry, Elias.”

“Shit,” he says, turning the corner onto my street. “Let’s just stick with Bric.”

I let out a sigh. “Fine. Bric. It was unfair for me to play games with you that day. OK? I need you to understand that I’m sorry for that. It was the Master, right? When I said that?” Such a huge mistake. Because that really was what set him off, I know it. I went over the entire weekend with Jordan and he figured it out immediately.

“My brother was dead, Nadia. You fucked up.”

“I know,” I say, desperate to get more words in before he pulls up to my building. “I’m sorry. It was unfair and I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you say it?” Bric asks. “We had a great night—”

“I know,” I interject. “We did. I was… you didn’t deserve that, OK? That’s what I’m trying to say.” And there’s my building. One block away. But thankfully, we’re stuck at a red light.

“I thought we had turned a corner,” he says. “I thought you were settling in. But obviously I was wrong. You’re not submissive. You’re never going to be submissive. And that’s why I decided the game needed to end. We’re wasting each other’s time, Nadia. It’s stupid. And counterproductive. I thought you were interested in me but—”

“I am,” I say. “I really am.”

“Well, it’s not going to work,” he says. The light has turned green and we’re two seconds away from my building.

“I can change,” I say. “No, listen,” I say, grabbing onto his arm as he pulls into the valet area to drop me off. “I want to change. I like you, Bric. I do. I want to make this work. I want a second chance. I want—”

“You want to manipulate me, Nadia. And I’m just not into it.”

“I can stop doing that, you know.” I straighten in my seat, then spy the valet coming to open my door. So I put up a finger, telling him to wait, and he backs off, but waits to let me out. Why does the valet have to be so attentive here?

“I want a woman who likes what I have to offer, Nadia. You’re obviously not that woman.”

“I am her, Bric. I am. It’s just different, OK? It’s taken me some time to figure it out, but I want to try again. I can please you, Elias.”

He shoots me a sneer, but I don’t take it back.

“I took advantage of the situation up in Montana. I took advantage of your… sadness. But I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“No, you did it to win. I’m not taking any of this personally, understand? It’s just a game. And now it’s over. I paid you, I—”

“I want another chance. Just… give me another chance and I’ll show you. I am the woman you want. I am the woman you need. I’m in love…”

But I can’t say it. I can’t. Jordan told me to say it, but I’m not going to. Because I don’t love him. Not yet. Maybe I can, if we get this second chance. But I don’t now and so I won’t use that to manipulate him into participating. He would never forgive me for that if he finds out what’s really going on. And he will find out. It’s only a matter of time.

“You’re in love… what?” he says, laughing. “In love with me? Were you seriously going to say you’re in love with me?”

I shake my head, lying. Because that was what Jordan told me to say. “I was going to say… I’m in love with the idea of submitting to you.”

“Are you?” His laugh is a full-blown guffaw this time. And then his face goes slack and serious. “Prove it.”

“Come upstairs,” I say. “Come upstairs and I’ll show you.”

I catch a grin at that invitation. It reminds me of Jordan. It reminds me of… me. It reminds me of the diabolical plan and for a moment I wonder who is playing who right now.

But then the grin slides into a frown. “What will be accomplished if I give you another chance to submit? Because from my end, Nadia, this is just gonna prolong the inevitable. We’re not compatible. We never were and we never will be.”

“And that’s all my fault,” I say, desperate to get him to change his mind. “I realize that now. If I had just given in and taken what you and Jordan were offering then we’d be… we’d be good, ya know? We’d still be playing. We’d be living together in that house you bought. We’d have something… real.”

All lies, of course. I can’t believe I’m doing this for Jordan. I really can’t. Because I do like Bric. Elias. Both sides to him. I realize that now. Maybe this actual moment is when the realization hits.

“I don’t want your money,” I say. “I’m going to get a cashier’s check tomorrow and give it all back. I’m not here for the money, or the game, or Jordan,” I add. Because that part’s true too. “I’m here for you. I want you, Bric. So please, just come upstairs and let me show you we can be good together. Give me a chance to please you.”

“And then you’ll leave me alone?” he says.

I sigh. Because… “I hope you won’t want me to leave you alone.”

“I will,” he says. “So if I come upstairs and give you what you’re asking for right now… you should know that going in. I’m out. Leave me alone after tonight. Leave my friends alone. Just go away, Nadia.”

It stings. I’m not gonna lie. Because I don’t want to just go away. Not after everything Jordan told me. So I suck in a deep breath of air… and agree. “I promise,” I say. “If you come upstairs with me right now, and if you want me to disappear when you leave, I will. I won’t bother you ever again.”

He opens his door without saying anything. I watch him as he walks around the front of the car, opens my door and says, “Last chance to submit, Nadia Wolfe. Do as you’re told tonight or just go upstairs alone.”

“I will,” I say, accepting his hand as he helps me out of the car. “I promise. I will.”

Bric tosses his keys to the valet and puts his arm around my waist as he leans into my neck to whisper, “I’m going to give you what you want, Nadia. But you’re going to regret it.”





Chapter Twenty-Nine - Bric





Inside her apartment I dominate. No waiting for an invitation. No allowances for awkward moments. No second-guessing or looking back. It’s one hundred percent on.

“Take off your clothes, put on your pointe shoes, and wait for me in the studio.”

Nadia stares at me. I wait for her comment or objection. I wait for her mistake that will end all of this before it even starts. I won’t put up with it this time. Not one bit.

She turns on her heel, takes off her coat as she walks away, throws it on the floor, and then whips her sweatshirt over her head before she disappears into her studio.

I allow myself one small smile as I take out my phone and compose the text. It takes me a few minutes to get the wording just right. All the instructions. And I have to look at my watch for proper timing. Everything must go off without a hitch for this to work.

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