Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91149 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Maybe instead of focusing on the loss of your professional career, you can adapt your expectations. You can still use that passion for good. You could teach—”
She stops herself midsentence, realizing her mistake. I’m a prisoner to the mafia, and teaching or finding another outlet for ballet is out of the question.
“Sometimes, we get so focused on what we can’t do that we forget what we’re still capable of,” she amends.
I don’t answer her. The power of positivity isn’t going to work for me today. My grief is a process, and eventually I will tread water again, but I will do it in my own time.
“How are your eating habits this week?” she asks.
“They’re fine.”
“Nikolai tells me otherwise.”
Betrayal pierces my thoughts, and I turn to look at her. I have been good. I’ve been doing mostly okay. But I know he’s referring to the Christmas party. It isn’t fair for him to count that against me.
“It was one time, and it was only because I was in an uncomfortable situation.”
“Nonna also says that you haven’t been clearing your plates, even though they are small portions. It’s a very slippery slope, Tanaka. They only mention it because we all want you to succeed with your program.”
“I’m fine,” I reiterate. “If anything, I’ve been eating too much. I had to buy two sizes up in my clothes, and I don’t like it.”
“You are at a perfectly reasonable weight,” she says. “The doctor mentioned that you’ve finally reached a healthy body mass index. Do you remember how we discussed changing the way you see yourself versus controlling your food to maintain your safety zone? Should we go over it again?”
“No,” I answer.
“How do you feel right now?” she asks. “Do you feel healthy? Do you have more energy? Tell me something positive about your new eating plan.”
I tap my fingers against the desk. I do feel like I have more energy, but I don’t want to admit it to her because right now she feels like the enemy. I feel like she is conspiring with Nikolai and Nonna to make me miserable, and I am angry with all of them, no matter how illogical it might be. I decide that while I can’t control my food, or my body, or my dancing anymore, there is still something else I can control.
“I’m done with therapy,” I tell her. “I want you to leave now.”
There isn’t a response. I expect her to argue, and I’m preparing my mental arsenal. I will go to war with her if she makes me. But I’m done giving away my secrets like candy. She just needs to say one thing. One protest. One argument. And I will let her have it.
But she doesn’t give in to my tactics.
Instead, she disappoints me by leaving the room without another word.
I find Nakya in the gym, stretching her leg against the barre I provided. She is wearing only a pink leotard and leg warmers today. Since I gave her free rein with my credit card, there has been a dramatic change in her wardrobe. Lately, I’ve enjoyed seeing her in the high-waisted jeans and bodysuits she purchased. She’s a different girl than the prim little dancer I first met. She is wilder, perhaps.
But she is also self-conscious of her healthier new body. I enjoy the way her thicker flesh feels against me. There is nothing like getting lost in the softness of a woman. It calms me. And I get lost in Nakya as often as I can now.
Seeing her healthy is important to me, and as long as she’s in my care, I will do what’s necessary to keep her that way.
“Sarah tells me that you think it’s up to you to fire her.”
She returns my gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “I don’t need therapy anymore. I’m better now.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
She releases her leg and turns to face me, meeting my eyes in challenge. “I don’t have anything else to say to her. She’s wasting my time.”
“That is for me to determine. Besides, what else do you have to do?”
“You mean other than being your fuck toy?”
It’s the most vulgar thing she’s ever said, and it makes my dick hard. But I’m not about to let her get away with it.
“Watch your mouth, zvezda.”
“Why should I?” she asks. “You wanted me to be filthy, didn’t you? Your dirty little doll. So I’ll say it as much as I like. Fuck toy, fuck toy, fuck—”
The last of her tirade is cut short when I close the distance between us and catch her by the hair. A faint sound of protest hums in her throat, but she has come to heel as she should.
I lean close to inhale her before my lips come to rest on her ear.
“If you really want to be my fuck toy, I will tie you to the bed for three days and use every orifice on your body for my own amusement. So be careful what you wish for, princess.”