Love My Way

by Bridget Midway

  Published by Phaze Books

  Also by Bridget Midway

  Adam and E-V-E

  C-A-I-N and A-B-E-L

  Sodom and Gomorrah

  Original Sin

  (print collection)

  Fascination Street

  Suburbia

  Walls

  “Service Recall” from

  Phaze Fantasies, Vol. I

  This is an explicit and erotic novel

  intended for the enjoyment

  of adult readers. Please keep

  out of the hands of children.

  www.Phaze.com

  Love My Way

  a novel of BDSM erotic romance by

  BRIDGET MIDWAY

  Love My Way copyright 2007-8 by Bridget Midway

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Phaze Production

  Phaze Books

  6470A Glenway Avenue, #109

  Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222

  Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

  To order additional copies of this book, contact:

  books@phaze.com

  www.Phaze.com

  Cover art © 2008 Debi Lewis

  Edited by Kathryn Lively

  eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-185-7

  First Phaze Edition – May, 2009

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Chapter One

  In the harsh glare of the stage lights, Ananda stretched her leg behind her and arched her back until she felt as though she would snap at any moment. Pushing her body like this shouldn’t be this painful, this hard.

  With delicate grace, she spun out of the move, twisting and twirling over the empty stage, keeping her gaze forward.

  Smile, damn it! Sell it! Not that she could see her buyers. The dimmed lights masked whoever sat in the audience. However, she only wanted to catch the eye of one man. Eagan Morton.

  As the tempo of her music sped up, so did she. Spinning on her toes, dancing her heart out until, with the organ’s constant pounding behind her ribcage, she thought she was doing just that. She controlled her muscles, making sure to make each position precise, nothing sloppy.

  Damn, she needed this job.

  “Miss Zelder!”

  The loud voice snapped Ananda out of her trance. Freezing in the middle of the stage, she noticed right away that her music had stopped. She glanced stage left and found the next auditioning dancers waiting in the wings, chewing their bottom lips as they peered out into the seats, probably to see what Ananda had been seeking since she got there.

  “Why did you choose that particular song?” a female voice asked her from the darkness.

  “Seemed appropriate.” Ananda stood up straight and made sure to stand in a perfect first position without bending her knees. Looking the part of a dancer was just as important as the dance itself.

  “Mary J. Blige’s ‘I’m Not Gon’ Cry’ hardly seems appropriate for a classic ballet style.” This time a male voice cut through.

  Ananda’s heart thudded. Could that be Eagan? As the top TV, movie and any damn media he wanted, producer, she’d remembered how his voice sounded from TV interviews and his hit shows. Even through her TV at home, his deep voice vibrated through her floors and walls. The man who spoke didn’t have that kind of resonance. She still gave him her full attention.

  He kept speaking. “If you wanted to dance to a hip-hop song, that would have been fine with us. We’re looking for different styles of dancing, not just classical.”

  “Are you saying that what I did just now wasn’t good enough?” The muscles in the back of Ananda’s neck tightened. Her shoulders made a slow trek up toward her ears. Relax. Hear the man out at least. Don’t be so antagonistic. Not this time.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Actually, I think that—”

  “Thank you for coming in, Ms. Zelder,” a deep voice said, cutting off the first man.

  Ananda’s stomach tightened to a ball. Her knees buckled. She recognized that voice immediately. Knowing that he watched her, the Eagan Morton, she brought her shoulders back and took in a deep breath. Poised. Confident.

  “Next dancer, please.”

  Deflated. Rejected.

  She released a long breath.

  “What?” Ananda didn’t mean for her thoughts to materialize into a shocked verbal statement. “Am I picked for the show?”

  A pause lingered, before he said, “No,” in such a harsh way that it echoed in the expansive auditorium. “Next dancer, please.”

  “May I ask what I did wrong, so that in future auditions I can correct whatever it is I did?”

  The second pause lasted longer than the first. While she waited for an answer, Ananda chewed the soft, fleshy inside of her bottom lip. “At least, can I see your face?”

  A small desk lamp clicked on from about twenty rows away from the stage. The dim light cast an eerie glow to Eagan’s face, accentuating shadows under his eyes and nose. He could make the devil shake in his hooves.

  “You’re not what we’re looking for. Accept that answer and leave the stage.” The rumble of his voice roared through the Virginia Wesleyan auditorium.

  A gasp from the other dancers echoed off of the high ceiling. No way would Ananda leave defeated. When the next dancer waltzed on stage, Ananda took the opportunity to execute three back flips, a feat in her ballet shoes, then did a pirouette before sauntering off stage, her way of saying “Fuck you,” but with class and grace.

  “Asshole,” she muttered as she snatched up her borrowed Nike gym bag.

  “Cool move,” one dancer said as he stretched his leg over his head. “How did you do that on those pointes?”

  Ananda plopped on the floor and snatched off her shoes. “Practice.” Her toes throbbed as soon as they were released from their pink satin prison. She could almost hear her little toes shouting a thank-you when she slipped her feet into her favorite pair of flip-flops.

  She wanted to tell the guy waiting to audition that hunger was the best motivation for anything. Hunger for food. Hunger for a better life.

  “Get off the stage!” screamed the man cloaked in darkness to the dancer who had come behind Ananda.

  Hunger for sex.

  Ananda wrung her hands. No matter how much of an asshole Eagan was, the command in his voice triggered her libido. Her nipples hardened with only the inflection of his voice. Poverty must have made her crazy.

  Slipping on her sweat jacket, Ananda zipped it up to cover her body’s response.

  “Man, that guy is tough.” A young, pretty blonde galloped to the backstage area where the other losers congregated to lick their wounds.

  The dancer’s bottom lip poked out and her eyes rimmed with tears.

  Hold it together, girl. He wants to see you cry. Another reason Ananda had chosen the unorthodox song. No matter what, good or bad, she wouldn’t allow anyone to see her cry. Not again.

  “I figured if he rejected you, there would b
e no way I would make it.” The slim blonde wiped her eyes. “You’re, like, way better than most people here.”

  Ananda wasn’t about to refute the woman’s claim. Although she wasn’t looking to join in her pity party, Ananda wanted to see if Eagan would pick anyone today. Creeping to the curtain, she peeked at the next performer.

  The woman, a little thick in the middle and legs that seemed tied down with weights, floundered all over the stage with a big grin. Most people backstage snickered at the dancer’s clumsy moves. Not Ananda. No matter how silly someone looked, it was never cool to laugh at a person’s dream.

  Once the dance ended, the woman struggled to catch her breath. It was what was said next that took away Ananda’s.

  “I want to see you again,” the deep voice said. “Can you prepare another routine?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ananda hoisted her bag on her shoulder. “I’m out of here. This place is a joke.”

  Good thing the audition location was relatively close to her apartment. She could have taken the bus to make the five-mile trip back home. The long walk, though, would do her good, help clear her head.

  As soon as her hand touched the door leading outside, she heard her name.

  “Ms. Zelder! Please, wait.”

  Not the voice of the mysterious Eagan Morton, but she still stopped and turned around. The man who had gotten her registration information ran toward her. He was a little shorter than her five-foot-ten height, and just about as wide around. To see him run looked painful.

  “Look, I’m just trying to get home before it hits high noon and I won’t be able to stand the heat.” She clutched the thick strap to the gym bag as she faced him.

  “I promise I won’t hold you up.” He extended his hand. “My name is Carter.”

  Ananda hesitated before taking his hand. “I remember you from registration.”

  “I must apologize for Mr. Morton.”

  His boss certainly lived up to the derogatory nickname that the media and everyone else had come up for him. The man’s ego could fill a stadium and the parking lot. Ananda guessed having a personality like he had was the reason he made millions and could bark orders like a spinning class instructor.

  “You can’t apologize for other people.” Ananda glanced at her watch. Coincidently, the watch had stopped fifteen minutes ago. Even it knew that if Ananda didn’t get this job, her dancing career was over.

  “I know.” He scratched his head, making his chocolate brown dreadlocks wiggle around. “I just wanted to let you know that I think you did an amazing job back there. You should have definitely been picked for Morton’s High Stepper show. Honestly, I think he passed you over because you look like a professional already.”

  Ananda snickered. “So I’m penalized for being too good.” She shook her head. “Apologizes and praises will not pay my rent and put food on my table.” When he lowered his gaze to the floor, an instant pang of guilt struck her belly. “Thanks for the kind words. I guess I’m not what Mr. Morton is looking for today.”

  “Don’t give up, though. I’m sure something else will be popping up soon.”

  Unless it came in the next few minutes, Ananda was out of options, out of money and out of time.

  “I still have your application. If I hear anything, would you like for me to call you?”

  Ananda had been around the business long enough to know a line when it was being fed to her. At least this guy didn’t follow his offer up with, “Let me take you out to dinner to discuss your future.” That usually ended up with the guy’s hand on her knee, or worse, her ass. Then she would make sure to introduce her knee to the jerk’s family jewels. However, this guy’s kind brown eyes left her little doubt as to his intentions. He wanted to help her.

  To be polite, she smiled and nodded at his inquiry. She would bet her dancing shoes that she wouldn’t be hearing from him again.

  And now she had to break the news to her roommate. No show, no contract, no money, no chance.

  * * * *

  “Let’s take a five minute break,” Phil said into the microphone.

  Under the haze of the small desk lamp that illuminated their workspace, Eagan glared at his director as the workers and dancers milled around on the stage.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Eagan snapped. “Did you forget your place here? This is my show. I’m running this.” He gritted his teeth so hard, he thought he would crack his molars.

  “Then maybe you should get out of whatever funk you’re in and recognize crap when you see it.” In the darkness, Phil’s brown eyes looked black.

  “Maybe we should take this conversation to another room.” Nina gathered the dancers’ photos and other notes in her arms and stood, waiting for Eagan to make a move.

  When he glared at her, she kept her gaze down to the floor, only occasionally glancing up at him. Each time she brought her head up, she pushed her wire-rimmed glasses up her slender nose then instantly swept her stringy red hair behind her ear. Even in the darkened theater, her pale skin accentuated her dark hair and eyebrows.

  When he stood, she took a step back, allowing him room.

  “Follow me.” Eagan had been given the use of a professor’s office while conducting his auditions.

  Eagan’s cell phone, which Nina carried, chirped an operatic tune. She answered it on the first ring, after juggling the pictures and papers in her hands.

  “Um, sir, it’s your brother.” Nina held up the phone to Eagan.

  “Thanks.” He took the silver-and-black phone and closed it with a loud snap, disconnecting the call. He only hoped the hang up rang as loud in his brother’s ears as the snap did in the empty corridors.

  Some wounds Eagan couldn’t repair in a day, not even in a phone call. Why couldn’t his brother and the rest of his family realize that and leave him alone?

  He handed the phone back to Nina. Like ducklings, Phil and Nina followed him to the assigned room. On the way, Eagan rolled up his sleeves. His heart pounded with each step. He shouldn’t have been there that day. From his actions, his crew must have picked up on his sour mood.

  When they got to the office door, Nina raced around him and opened it for the duo. She kept her gaze cast down, not letting her sky blue eyes be seen as Eagan and Phil strolled inside of the room. Then she shut the door behind herself.

  “What the hell is going on with you today?” Phil slammed his folder full of papers onto the cluttered desk.

  “Take that tone out of your voice, Phil.” Eagan put his fists to his hips. “You’re my director, not my equal.”

  Crimson shaded Phil’s pecan-colored skin. Eagan had been friends with Phil for over fifteen years, since he first had him directing commercials and music videos. It was a fast hop, skip, and a jump to the two feature films Phil directed, which had collectively earned well over five hundred million dollars. Since then, Eagan struggled for another hit, any hit. Unfortunately, the media knew that and grabbed onto that story like a co-ed accepting his first cool job offer.

  Phil ran his fingers through his black hair, probably the reason the man, at the young age of thirty-six, had a receding hairline.

  “I thought I was your friend.” Phil leaned against the desk and crossed his feet at his ankles.

  “Outside of work, you are. Here, I’m your boss. I’m the executive producer of this damn show, and if I decide to pull it, I damn sure will.”

  “Fine. Pull it. At the rate you’re going, your show will be off the air before you can get the first show in the can.” Phil braced his hands on the desk. “How could you pick that horse over the gazelle?”

  “What are you talking about?” Eagan knew exactly what he meant. As soon as Eagan had told the last dancer to come back, he knew his mind wasn’t in the game. With everything that had happened to him recently, how could it have been?

  “You let that incredible dancer go, the one with the graceful arms, who did that thing with her leg.” At a diminutive height of about five-foot-nothing, P
hil attempted that same dance move, albeit in an awkward fashion, kicking his leg back until the man almost knocked over a floor lamp and a plant.

  The dancer, that woman, Eagan knew exactly who Phil was talking about. Long, caramel-colored legs, high, rounded ass, full lips, and hair she kept in a ponytail. A beautiful Nubian goddess. He wondered what it would look like when it was all down and around her face, and over his body, and brushing his genitals.

  “Perfect arabesque.” Eagan thought fondly of the woman. He allowed a slight smile to creep up at the corner of his mouth, something he hoped neither Phil nor Nina caught.

  “What?” Nina craned her head toward him to catch what he’d whispered.

  “The move. It’s called an arabesque.” And Ananda had executed it perfectly. He even knew her name.

  “You do remember her.” Phil pointed to Eagan and his eyes widened. “I thought you barely looked at her before you gave her the boot. She was good. Damn good.”

  “That’s right. She was good.” Trying to remain in control, Eagan took a seat behind the desk, forcing Phil to stand and make his way to a chair across from him. “She was too good. The show is supposed to be about amateurs dancing with professionals, not semi-pros dancing with pros.”

  “So is that why you wanted to see the last girl again?” Nina asked.

  “No.” Eagan brushed his pant leg. “I wanted to see her again because I wasn’t paying attention and I made the offer before I thought about it.”

  Yes, that reason sounded plausible. If only Eagan could convince himself that the first woman’s look didn’t matter, he would be okay.

  “So you are preoccupied today. Man, let’s just wrap this up and go home. We can finish the auditions another day.”

  “No, I have to finish this. Besides, there’s nothing for me at home.” Eagan swiveled the chair around to look out of the window.