“Save your breath, Bricman. I’m not into you.”
“You’re still here, Nadia.”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
“So take mine. I’m sure there’s a pair of sweats in a drawer back in the bedroom. Take them. There’s a car for you downstairs. You won’t be walking home. I have a coat too. Take anything you want, actually. Whatever it is you think you need to be able to walk away from me right now. Take it and go.”
She stays absolutely still.
“Or stay and shut the fuck up.”
“Why—”
“Shut. The fuck. Up. Nadia.”
She crosses her arms. Defiant, but submissive at the same time.
“Good,” I say. “That’s better. Now eat your breakfast and make small talk with me.”
“Why should I?”
“I don’t like to repeat myself,” I say.
“You never told me anything, Elias.”
Elias. Bric. Bricman. Who does she think I am? “I did tell you. You need limits and I’m here to provide those limits. That’s why you should stay. You need my limits, Nadia. Very badly. So sit the fuck down and eat your fucking breakfast.”
She sits.
I’m stunned. But I hold it in because this is way too much fun to laugh and risk pissing her off just yet.
“It’s cold,” she says, looking down at her plate.
“Hmm. I guess it is. Let me make a new breakfast then. Would you like coffee?”
“No,” she says.
“Orange juice?” I offer, turning back to the stove and starting again.
“Sure.”
“Good. See how nice this is?” I ask, breaking more eggs onto the griddle. I get the bacon and pancakes started too, then get the toast ready in the toaster before I grab the OJ from the fridge and pour her a glass. When I turn to set it down, she looks at me with tears in her eyes. “Why are you crying?”
She wipes her face but only says, “Thanks,” as she takes the glass of juice from me and drinks.
I turn back to the griddle and push the bacon around. Check the pancakes. Keep an eye on the eggs. “What kind of houses do you like?” I ask her.
She huffs some air, so obviously frustrated with me.
“Modern?” I prod. “Or traditional?”
“Traditional, I guess.”
“Good to know. I’ll tell Lawton to concentrate on traditional then.”
“Who’s Lawton?”
“My real-estate guy.”
“I don’t think I want to move in with you,” she says.
I flip the pancakes and the bacon, then turn to her. “You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?”
She tries not to smile, but doesn’t quite succeed.
“And of course you don’t want to move in with me. That’s practically the point of making you.”
“You can’t make me do anything, Bric.”
“Elias, Nadia. You need to choose a name for me. So let’s just go with Elias. And yes, I’m very good at making reluctant women do my bidding. So I can make you move in with me. I’d just prefer if you gave in a little to set the proper tone. Plus it will save us time in the house hunt. What neighborhood do you like?”
“This game isn’t going to end the way you think,” she says.
“Maybe this game never ends? Ever think of that?”
She actually laughs this time. But I don’t see it. I’m back at the food.
“Oh, yeah, I can picture it now. Nadia, Jordan, and Br—Elias forever.”
“Why not?” I ask. “If we all play well, it could happen. I spent three years with the last girl.”
“Who,” she spits, “the fuck would spend three years with you?”
Rochelle, I say in my head. And Quin. “People who play well, that’s who.”
“Then why aren’t you still together?”
“Because they fell in love and left together.”
“Wait,” she says. And when I turn to look at her, she’s got her hand up in a stop gesture. “You had a threesome for three years?” Her face is all scrunched up like this makes no sense to her. “And they fell in love. So you just… bowed out? Or it was a bad break-up?”
“It doesn’t matter—”
“The fuck it doesn’t!” And now she’s animated and smiling again. So… getting the upper hand is what makes her tick, huh? “How about this, Elias. You want to get to know my secrets? Then you have to offer yours up in return.”
“I have nothing to hide, Nadia. We played a good game.”
“Did you love her?”
“Sure,” I say, shrugging. “I loved her. But not the way Quin loved her. And they had a baby.”
“A baby!” She’s practically cackling now. “Holy fuck. This is a delicious story, isn’t it? I need to know everything.”
I turn back to the food, find it ready, and then push the toast down in the toaster. “Ask anything you want. I have nothing to hide. And if you think talking about them makes me uncomfortable, you’re wrong. I’m happy to tell you all about them.”
“It was his baby?” she asks.
I roll my eyes as I grab two more plates from the cupboard. But she can’t see me because my back is still turned. “Yes. I wouldn’t walk away from my own baby, even if they were in love.”
“Boy? Girl?”
“Girl,” I say, loading up our plates. “Adley. Fucking adorable, if I do say so myself.”
“How old?”
I think for a second. “Like seven months now.”
“Were you there for the birth?”
“No,” I say, just as the toast pops up. “Rochelle left when she was only a few months pregnant. We didn’t meet the baby until she was six months old.”
“Wait,” Nadia says. “So this shit just happened, didn’t it? Was this the reason Jordan sent me to you on Christmas? Awww,” she says. And when I turn and place the new food in front of her and take the old plate away, she’s got her hand over her heart in a mock gesture of swooning. “Jordan gave me to you to cheer you up.”
I butter the toast, cut it, and place her diagonally-cut pieces on her plate. “Congratulations,” I say. “You’ve got me all figured out.”
“So how—”
“Eat,” I say, kinda sick of this game but not willing to give her more ammunition than she earned. “I won’t make it again, even if it does get cold. And you’re gonna eat it no matter what this time.”
Surprisingly, she gives in to that and picks up a piece of bacon. “So how come you were sad that night? I mean, if you so willingly walked out of that game?”
“Who says I was sad?”
“Well, obviously Jordan doesn’t go around giving away his best woman to just anyone.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “He’s got more than one of you?”
She laughs. And it’s a good laugh. Real too. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I know he’s been pretty preoccupied with me these past few weeks.”
“Training you,” I say. “For me, I think.”
She has a forkful of pancake heading for her mouth when she stops and says, “What?”
“He told me. He brought you to the Club a couple times. We were talking at the bar. You were looking at me that first time. You slapped him both times. And he said you thought yourself a top. And I laughed.”
“It’s funny, huh?”
“You’re just too young, Nadia. To know the difference.”
“I don’t think so.” Her back is straighter now. Like I offended her.
“Anyway, he invited me in that first day. But I said no.”
“Because of… Rochelle and… Quin, right?”
“Yes. We had something good.”
“Obviously,” she concedes. “If it lasted so long. Do you miss them?”
“Sure. All the time.”
“And I’m the replacement?”
I shrug. “Why not? Does it make you feel used?”