Page 55 of Dominant

“No,” she shook her head. “I think you should leave.”

I could understand that she might feel I was trying to pull one over on her, trying to buy her family business out from under her, and I knew I needed to express myself patiently.

Despite my best intentions, though, her tone was making my blood pressure rise. “Jordan, you are a paid employee of Abbott Holdings,” I said, in a thin, dangerous voice. “I think it goes without saying that not showing up to work is grounds for dismissal.”

“Grounds for dismissal?” she shot back, eyes flashing. “Then how about this? I quit!”

Fury roared through me. I was shocked. “What is the fuck is going on here?” I demanded.

“How can you even ask me that?” she cried. “You think I don’t know what you wanted all along? You couldn’t get my parents’ company, so what? You decided to go for the weakest link, is that it? You drive me home from my parents’ party and flirt with me, and then you call me into your office and give me a job on the spot and then you lure me into your weird sex underworld, and I fell for it all! All this talk about owning me… when what you really want to own is my stake in Chateau Andilet so you could turn it into your sex dungeon? Do you know how used I feel, Alexander? Can you even imagine for one second how I feel?”

I gaped at her, unable to speak. Lure her into my weird sex underworld? Was this really what she thought of me? That I would go to all this trouble to get her shares in Chateau Andilet? I was stunned.

“Get out,” she growled angrily.

“Jordan…” I said, as calmly as I could manage.

“Just get out! Just get out before I call the police on you and your illegal brothel!”

I was speechless. She stepped forward, all rage and fury, and I closed my mouth, giving a small shake of my head.

“You’re wrong,” I said. “You’ve got this all wrong.”

She looked like she was going to scream, so I backed up, opening the door.

“Jordan, let’s talk about this when you’ve calmed down,” I said, stepping back across the threshold into the hallway. “Can I call you later?”

“No!” she screamed, grabbing the edge of the door. “Don’t ever call me again!” and she swung the door closed, slamming it in my face.

I stood for a moment in the hallway, dumbfounded, until her next door neighbour opened her door and peered out warily. I turned on my heel and walked out.

Home alone that night, in a brooding frame of mind, I opened Jordan’s Instagram account again for what must have been the twelfth time that day. I was hoping for something, anything, that might tell me what she was doing, even though she clearly didn’t post very much.

I looked at her roommate Stephanie’s account, which I’d already looked at more times than I would care to admit, and felt my heart stop as, at last, I found exactly what I had been looking and hoping for. Less than an hour ago she had posted a Boomerang of herself and Jordan, dancing in a crowded room, and there, at the top of the post, was their exact location.

Somebody really needs to teach Stephanie about internet privacy, I thought to myself, as I grabbed my coat and took the elevator down to the parking lot.

Jordan

It had been a long time since I’d been drunk, and it felt good. I took another slug of the cheap white wine in my cup. Even though my head was spinning, it felt like a fist around my heart was unclenching with every sip. I was feeling loose and free… I almost felt happy.

“So, do you like being an accountant?” asked the guy in front of me. Mike… I think. We were packed into a tight space, and he was standing close to me. There were so many people crammed into Stephanie’s friend’s apartment that I could feel the back of the girl behind me pressing against me.

“I don’t know anymore!” I answered loudly, to be heard over the music. “I lost my job today!”

“Oh shit!” he made a face of genuine concern. “You lost your job? Today? That sucks!”

“Well, I didn’t lose it, I guess.” I corrected myself. “I quit! My boss is an asshole!”

“Oh, that’s good, then!” He nodded encouragingly. “I’m all for sticking to your principles. We should celebrate! How about a shot?”

“Sure!” I downed the rest of my wine as he turned and squeezed his way through the crowd to the kitchen.

“You’re going to get laid tonight!” came Stephanie’s singsong voice in my ear. I turned to find my roommate standing beside me, holding a bottle of wine.

“With who? With Mike?”

She nodded.

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