"I have a cat, Kai. I can't just abandon him?—"
"Bring him with you."
"Bring my cat. You'rekiddingme. You're not even a catperson."I turn my back on him, rifling through my purse to buy me some time. "Kai, it's not—I just can't." I need my independence. I need to be able to do my own thing, in my own space, without judgement. And I can't do that here, no matter how muchprivacymy own room affords me. "I'm sorry."
"But I need you," he growls, pouting in a rare moment of petulance, and I'm reminded why he seems to always get what he wants. When you sound and look like he does, nobody argueswhen you ask for things, or demand them. "And I pay you to be on-call. This would just be another perk, really."
I'm not someone he can push around, though. I'm me. And I'm putting my foot down, because accepting his offer is dangerous. For both of us.
"Kai," I growl in warning, already feeling myself cave. I still have to try, though. "It's not a good idea."
"It's not like you have someone waiting for you at home," he tosses out flippantly, and like, okay, fair, he's got me there, buthow dare he insinuate?—
"I have Taco," I start, offended that he doesn't consider my baby worthy of my time.
"He's acat,"Kai points out, like I'm not well aware of that fact. "You don't have a boyfriend, or kids, though."
"How doyouknow I don't have a boyfriend?" I cross my arms, staring him down with intent.
His eyes say so much without a single word, and then he smirks, like he's got me right where he wants me. "I'd know if you had a boyfriend. And that line there? That's standard operating procedure for defensiveness when youdon'thave what the other person is accusing you of not having. I've been in the industry long enough to spot a lie." He cocks his head, smirking even more, if that's even possible. "And that,kara,was a lie."
He's got my balls in a vicegrip, so to speak. I'm dangling over the fire, and the only way I can refuse might result in me losing my job to someone willing to make the sacrifices. There's only one choice, though how much of that choice is because of his insistence, how much of it is because I'm too weak for him now, and how much of it is because Iwantto spend more time with him, outside of work, is up for debate. And definitely not a professional line of thought.
But I've got to put my foot down eventually, or he'll just run over me forever. I clear my throat, intending to double down on the no.
"Fine, I'll stay tonight, and I'll start coming over early every morning instead of waiting to be picked up, since I have my own car."
"You'd have to be here at five in the morning to do what I want you to do for me before we set out every day," he warns, his eyes hard, flashing with danger. "That's awful early, on nights when we're busy until late."
"I've got my own car," I say simply, "and traffic isn't that bad in the mornings. You'll have to get me a permit to enter the complex parking lot, though, and I'm going home tomorrow and every night afterward, Kai."
That sure was putting my foot down.
"Perfect," he says smugly, like he knew he'd get his way eventually. I hate that about him. But at the same time, I envy his confidence, his assurance that he's going to be able to make miracles happen one way or another. "See? Was that so hard to agree to?"
"Shut up, Kai," I mutter, shoving past him to head for the car. "Now come on, before you make us late."
He's smug as fuck all the way to the car.
We're not late, like I fear we might be. No, we're right on time, actually. Right on time for what turns out to be a spectacularly fucked up day.
We spend the first four hours of our day being led around by the nose in the studio. Well, Kai gets led around, I just sit alongthe far wall and try to get some work done. It lasts for about two hours before the strange phone calls start up again.
Nobody talks on the other end, and they come through at least once a day. Nothing but heavy breathing, a silence that stretches eerily between the caller and myself, and then a hang-up with no words. It's unnerving, but since nothing else is happening, I just try my best to ignore them. Except it's hard to ignore them when they come through on my lunch break. And it's even harder to ignore them when they come through at four in the morning, before even my alarm has deigned to go off.
There were some flowers at the front desk for me yesterday when we showed up to the office. They weren't the only bouquet there, though, and this time, there was no card, so I just brushed it off. I don't have time to worry about who might or might not be sending me flowers.
The gala is a week away. Kai still hasn't included his RSVP plus one's name in any of our correspondence for me to submit. We're booked back to back with practices and appearances and whatnot. And to top it all off, now I've been asked to spend the night several nights a week at his apartment, forconvenience'ssake.
"Hey, you two, I'll be right back," I call out to Kai as he and Burke work on their new performance routine on the far side of the room. Kai waves me off without looking in my direction, so I consider myself dismissed and head out to the car, where Roger is sleeping peacefully, taking his much-anticipated obligatory mid-morning nap while Anton smokes a cigarette off to the side of the building. I get a little head nod from him as I approach the car, leaning in through Roger's open window to flip the trunk latch.
My phone starts to ring as I reach in to pull out my bag with the sweater I pack just for the dance studio on colder days,and without thinking, I pick it up and answer with an absent-minded, noncommittalhello.
"Hey there, Dee."
My blood runs cold. I know that voice. And I want nothing to do with it.
"Theo," I whisper, trying to keep the tremble from my tone, desperately hoping my tone doesn't come off as a scared little rabbit. "I told you never to call me again."
