After a quick shower, I head to the main part of the house. Ethan’s door is open but he’s not in there. Emma’s mopping the floor in the kitchen.
“Good morning! What would you like for breakfast?” She pauses what she’s doing.
I instantly feel bad. I’ve spent my entire life looking after myself, I don’t need anyone to do it for me.
“I’m not very hungry yet,” I lie.
“Nick left specific diet orders. I’m under strict rules not to let you skip any meals.” She stands with her hand on her hip, staring me down.
He’s such a control freak, but I do appreciate his overbearingness at times. The weight I’ve put on looks good on me. It was much needed.
“I’ll just have some fruit.” I would like to make my own meals sometimes, but I doubt she would let me cook if I tried.
“I already have everything ready, I just have to heat it up.” She turns on the microwave.
Two minutes later, she’s pulling out a plate stacked with eggs, sausage links, hash browns, and pancakes. My stomach growls in response. I don’t waste any time digging in.
Just a couple months ago, I could barely eat without wanting to throw up, and now I can scarf down an entire plate and not bat an eye. Mama would be proud of all the progress I’m making.
After breakfast, since I’m caught up with schoolwork for now, I grab my phone, planning to binge watch my scrolling app until Sasha gets here, when I see a text from Nick.
9:35 a.m. - I want to talk to you about last night.
Shit.
I close out the message and grab Squeak out of the garbage can. Emma got a leash to hook to her collar. I’m going to take her for a walk instead of facing the reality I knew was coming.
“Your posture is hideous. You have to learn to stand up straight. Push your hips forward and roll your shoulders back.” Sasha walks circles around me, looking at me I’m something she just scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
I’m standing in front of the mirror in Nick’s gym and do as I’m told. The feeling of standing properly is foreign to me. I was never taught proper posture, and nobody in Whiskey Rivers ever gave a shit how you do or don’t stand.
“Good, now hold your chin up and take a few steps forward and sway your hips like I showed you.”
I feel like a performing monkey in heels.
Sasha’s condescending words don’t help either. “No man, especially men of Nick’s caliber, wants to look at a slob. You have to walk with confidence. Did your part of the family stray from his or what? You don’t act like you grew up in a family with class.”
Because I didn’t, bitch. I take a deep breath, trying to hide my annoyance. We practice posture, walking, and graceful movements. All of which apparently matter even though men are just going to be staring at my tits and ass.
I’m practicing moving from one end of the room to the other, when a set of angry eyes catches my attention. Panic rises in my throat. I’ve been here all day. I’ve no clue what I’ve done wrong, but he’s pissed.
“Oh hey, Nick!” Sasha runs over to greet him but he pushes her away. She steps back, looking offended. Good. I’m sick of her already and it’s only day one of our lessons.
“By all means, please carry on with your lesson, it’ll give myniecesome time to come up with all her reasons for avoiding my text today.” He stands with his arms crossed, glaring dangerously at me.
The way he said “niece” sends a cold chill down my spine. He’s so cold and calculated. I can’t keep my head in this lesson and think about the discussion he wants to have at the same time.
“Carry on. Now.” He shoos his hand towards us.
“I guess it’s a good time to see how you interact with customers. You won’t always start off dancing, you might have to work the bar or waitress first. We can use Nick to roleplay. Pretend he’s your guest and go ask him what you can get for him.” Sasha rolls her eyes as she approaches me.
I have plenty of experience with waitressing and don’t need to practice but now is not the time to argue with either of them. I bite my tongue and follow along.
He takes a seat on the bench, his stare never leaving me as I try to focus on the task at hand. I take a deep breath, begging my brain to function and force my legs that’ve now turned to concrete to move.
I approach him like she showed me, my moves steady even though my insides are trembling. “What can I get for you?” I stumble over my words.
His eyes meet mine and he slowly runs a hand from my calf up my thigh. “What are you offering?” he purrs in a much more mellow tone.
