Page 57 of Off Balance

"I earned my place here. I'm a good dancer, I get good reviews. I work hard!"

"I'm sure you do, honey. But when he gets tired of you, that won't matter. You'll be back to working the pole and sucking dick for tips or whatever it is you did before he picked you up."

"It's not like that."

For a moment, I think I see pity in his eyes, but he quickly disguises it with disgust. Their words follow me into the showers, where I rush through washing myself. I don't bother drying my hair or fussing with it, quickly pulling on a clean pair of shorts and a tank top and making a beeline for the stairwell. When I march past Belinda's desk, she calls out that he's busy, but I don't listen. I walk right into another tense moment between Emile and Daphne.

They're standing too close together, Emile boxing her in at the edge of his desk.

"I need to talk to you," I say firmly.

Daphne’s eyes are red rimmed, and maybe I imagine it, but I think she looks relieved to be interrupted. Emile lets her slip out, calling after her that he'll see her bright and early in the morning.

He barely acknowledges me as he shuts the door, then walks around his desk and takes a seat.

"What are you doing with that poor girl?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"She's barely eighteen."

"Yes. An adult. And capable of making her own decisions, much like you are."

"What about Marissa? Did she get to make her own decisions? Is that who you thought I was with this afternoon?"

"Yes. Marissa made the decision to cross me, and she learned that there are consequences for her actions."

"How could you do that to her? She was loyal to you for years."

"Yes, and for most of her tenure, she knew her place. She did as she was told, kept her mouth shut, and was a talented dancer, but she thought she could undermine my authority and influence my dancers.”

“By wanting to leave?”

“By trying to turn my dancers against me!”

“What are you even talking about?”

“She left poor Daphne in tears with the suggestion that she’d ruin her life if she agreed to work with me. Told her I’d take advantage of her, drain all the good out of her, and then throw her away. Those were the words she used. Thank goodness we'd already signed the contracts, or she could have been scared off.” He looks at me, one eyebrow raised knowingly. “I have eyeseverywhere, Cameron. I won’t tolerate being betrayed by the very people I made."

I ignore the threat and focus on what he’s saying.Made?I mean, sure, he pushes us to be better. This company has a reputation for being the best of the best for a reason. And working for a company like this is an incredible opportunity, even if the pay is tragically low, or nonexistent in my case. Still, to say hemadeany of us is a bit of a stretch.

As much as I want to tell him off for being a pretentious prick with his head up his ass, this conversation is getting me nowhere. If anything, it’s reminding me that I need to tread carefully.

What I need to do is get out of here and call Marissa, to check in on her and make sure she's okay. What she's going through confirms some of the worst of my fears. Only I never considered that his influence could reach across the country. I figured I'd never dance in Atlanta again, but what about my chances of making it to Los Angeles? Considering he's effectively trying to block me from accomplishing anything outside of this company, how would I even have a chance? The World Ballet Competition was my only chance of making it out of here.

"We're all very lucky to have the opportunity to work with you," I say placatingly. "Marissa was probably feeling jealous that a newer, younger talent was being brought in. I'm sure she had no idea how far your influence reaches." Saying these things is making my stomach hurt, but stroking his ego is the only way I'm going to get out of here without him being suspicious. He loves to talk about people being jealous of what he can give them.

Sure enough, the word alone is enough to light a spark in his eye. He pushes back from his desk and pats his lap.

"I'm not feeling well, remember? I was just about to head home," I lie.

"Just come sit with me a moment, Cameron. I feel like we haven't seen enough of each other lately."

Production weeks are hard. By the time the night is over, after the production, the afterparties, and whatever appearances Emile has set up for us, I'm exhausted. And I've been avoiding him, doing whatever it takes to lessen our alone time so I can breathe and try to get some rest.

Warily, I walk over to his side of the desk and sit on his lap. Emile leans back in his seat, pulling me against him. "Your hair is a mess. But you smell good," he says, running his nose up the side of my neck. Normally, a move like that would have me grinding on him, but the wrong kind of shiver makes its way down my spine instead, and I want to recoil.

"I am glad to hear that you are still on my side,mon cheri,” he whispers. "I would not react well if you turned against me, too."

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