Page 69 of Off Balance

In the locker room, I search through my bag but can't find my phone. I didn't take it out during rehearsal. Maybe I left it in the car?

I glance towards the showers. It's unusually quiet in here. On performance days most people go home to rest before warmups, but usually everyone showers first. There are only seven men in our dance corps, enough that an empty locker room seems suspicious.

Alarm bells are going off in my head.

I need to go to Dom and let him know about the photos before I do anything too rash. Maybe I'll leave now, text Emile from the car and tell him I'm not feeling well. He'll know it's a lie, but at least then I can pretend that I'm not outright ignoring his instruction. Hopefully, within the next few hours I can make a new plan.

I'm just pulling my bag over my shoulder when the door slams open. Mark and Theo thunder in like they're on a mission.

"What's going on?"

"Emile sent us to make sure you're a good boy and follow his instructions. We thought you'd be done showering by now." Theo looks me up and down. "Apparently not." He looks at Mark and nods.

They come at me from both sides, each grabbing an arm. I'm not weak. Even being several inches shorter and far thinner, I could take either of these guys on their own, but both at the same time?

With their arms hooked under mine, they haul me into the showers, ripping a curtain off one of the wide stalls. The water comes down in a harsh, freezing cold stream that beats against my face. I sputter and force myself not to panic like I'm being waterboarded, but not panicking doesn't mean I don't shout for them to get the fuck off me and leave me alone. They don't though. They hold me under the cold spray, and at some point, even try to strip me out of my workout attire, but they give up when my kicking and screaming, plus the difficulty of removing wet lycra, deters them. I'll be damned if they're going to humiliate me in that way. When they're satisfied that I'm cleanenough, they drag me out of the locker rooms. I struggle to get out of their hold as we're getting on the elevator, but my face gets smashed into the wall for my efforts. It jars my already shaky sense of balance, and I give up fighting. Despite my cooperation, they both keep a rough hold on my arms and practically drag me into Emile's office.

Belinda's desk is still empty. When is the last time I remember seeing her? Thursday, maybe? After the flower incident. She and I made eye contact after Emile walked into Daphne's dressing room and closed the door. She looked down at her phone and said, "Oh, look at that. It looks like the Mayor needs to talk to Mr. Alistar about the special performance." And then she left.

Mark all but kicks the door open and they push me into the office. Whether they meant to or not, they push me a bit more forcibly than I can handle in a weakened state, and I land on my hands and knees. Blood drips on the fibers of the plush, white rug. My gym bag thuds to the ground next to me.

"Merde. Are you serious? I asked you to retrieve him, not bloody him."

"That was an accident."

"And why is he wet?"

"You wanted him to shower."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"He put up too much of a struggle. It wouldn't work."

What the fuck are they talking about?

"You are both useless idiots. Get out!" he barks, exaggerating his French accent. He does that when he's really pissed, or trying to put on a good show. So which is this?

"What the hell was that?" I demand, getting to my feet.

"A simple misunderstanding. Come, let me check your nose," he says, gesturing for me to sit.

"You hate blood."

"Yes, but I have to check that you are alright," he says exasperatedly. This whole conversation is eerily normal. After sending Mark and Theo to manhandle me and force me to come here, he's acting like everything is exactly as it should be. I let him examine my face, if only because I don't know how to react. I'm frozen in self-preservation. He wipes the blood away with a tissue and holds my chin to look at him. "I do not think it is broken. Makeup should cover this fine for tonight."

"Tonight?" I'd assumed that having me forcibly dragged in here was to fire me and make threats.

He sighs and sits down in the seat next to me. "I am sorry I overreacted. Things have not been going my way and, as you know, I do not respond well to conflict."

"So you sent goons to beat me up and waterboard me?"

Emile tsks. "I swear to you, that was not what I sent them to do. I only asked them to check on you and make sure you come to see me directly—so I could apologize. I acted like a monster in my jealousy. It is not excusable."

I look away, my eyelashes fluttering closed. I don't want to look at him. "Why would you care how your personal cum dumpster feels about anything?"

"I said that in anger."

"That doesn't excuse that you said it. It doesn't excuse anything."

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