Page 80 of His Turn

God. Does everything have to be a power play with this guy?

But I shrug it off and go inside, and then he’s there, taking off my stupid cape and hanging it up in the coat closet. He does the same with his coat, unleashing an expensive suit on me that makes him look like Adonis with clothes.

“Chinese?” he asks. “Mexican? What do you feel like?”

“Mexican,” I say.

He pulls out his phone, tabs a contact, and then orders for both of us. I want to stop him. Tell him not to do that. I can order myself. But he chooses sea bass tacos and I know the restaurant and I love those tacos. So I let it go. For once, I think in my head. I can let it go because he did everything right.

“It’s gonna be an hour and a half, they said. So we have time to kill. Something dear,” Bric says, changing the subject abruptly. “What’s that mean exactly?”

“What?” I ask.

“The other night. You told Jordan you wanted something dear to us. What’s that mean?”

I shrug. “What’s that mean to you?”

“Do you always do that?” he asks. “Get another opinion before you give yours?”

“That’s not what I do.”

“Yes, it is. You want to know what I think of it because you don’t want to be judged on what you think of it.”

“It’s something meaningful, Elias.”

“Like Jordan’s car.” But then he laughs. And I do too. Because fucking Jordan, right? He’s so materialistic.

“Not his stupid car,” I say, still smiling.

“I know that, Nadia,” Bric says, coming towards me to take my hand in his. Jesus. He’s a player. “So just tell me what it means.”

“Just personal.”

“Like a secret?” Bric asks, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles. A familiar tingle runs through my body at his tender touch.

It’s a game, Nadia. He’s playing you like an instrument right now. This whole afternoon has been a game.

“Sure,” I say. “A secret. But more than that, an insight, I guess. Into who you are. Who both of you are.”

“Do you think you know Jordan?” he asks, pulling me close to his chest. He shifts his hands so they’re gripping my waist, and suddenly we’re dancing. My hands on his shoulders, my face near his neck.

“Better than I know you,” I say, staring out the window on the far side of the room.

“If I give you insight into me, will you give me insight into you? Or is your body my only reward?”

What the fuck? “Whatever you want, Bric.”

“Elias,” he corrects me. “You know, it’s painfully obvious that you call me Bric in your head. You make that mistake too often for it not to be true.”

“Sorry,” I say, suddenly feeling weary. My legs are aching like crazy. And my feet are tired in these boots. “It’s just how I know you, I guess.”

“Then you need to know me in a different way. Until Elias is the default and not Bric. Show me your apartment. Let me see your secrets, Nadia.”

Everything about him is exhausting. And I guess that’s his plan, right? Wear me down, make me weak, bend me backwards.

So why fight it? It makes me tired to fight it.

“Come with me,” I say, slipping away from his tight hold on my hips. “I’ll show you the only room that matters.”