by Stella Gray
It was the way he’d spent the entire night at my side, charming and schmoozing with everyone I was going to be working with for the next several years. He impressed them, and impressed me with his knowledge about the classes I’d mentioned to him in passing or the professors I liked best. It was a side of him I’d never seen before—a side that was interested in me and cared about the path I was on.
I also knew people would be asking me questions later about my extremely handsome, charismatic husband. I wouldn’t blame them; because of my unusual relationship with Stefan, I hadn’t said much about him to anyone. Seeing him show up out of the blue at an event like that, and considering the way he’d made such an effort to chat everybody up, I expected I’d be fielding a whole slew of questions. And I wouldn’t mind answering them. I was proud that he’d been by my side. Proud to call him my husband.
After we’d left the party, I had wanted to thank him, to show him how much his attendance had meant to me. And the only way I could think of doing that was with sex. It was the way we communicated best.
I could still remember the way his hand had felt on the back of my head as he guided my mouth up and down his cock. I’d never done anything like that before—had never even wanted to. But with Stefan things were different. Everything about him turned me on.
I’d loved that brief moment of control, when he was thrusting in my mouth with his eyes closed and his head tilted back. Completely at my mercy.
But I loved it even more when we got back to the condo and he had taken that control back. It had almost felt like Stefan had needed to fuck me. Needed me.
I thought about it all night, long after he fell asleep. Part of me had wanted to move across the bed and lean my body against his, get as close as we’d been on the plane from Budapest. But I knew that doing that would be too much. It would be rushing things.
It would be a bad idea.
Because even though I was falling for him, there was no way to know if he was feeling the same way. We had agreed that this marriage was temporary. If I wanted things to change, if I wanted him to see that I could be more than just a convenient trophy wife, I’d have to show him how much sense we made as a couple. Not just in the bedroom, since we seemed to be doing pretty good in that arena, but in our day-to-day lives.
I had to show him that I could be there for him, the same way he had been there for me at the UChicago mixer. It would only draw us closer together.
That’s why I was walking through the lobby of the KZM building during my lunch break with a takeout bag in my hand. I’d forgone my afternoon study session at Harper and instead had taken an Uber back to the condo to change into something sexy and short and black. I normally wouldn’t wear something like this during the day, but the dress was for him. I wanted to tempt him into taking a long lunch. Wanted to tempt him into taking me during his long lunch. Maybe on his desk. Or against the door.
“Where’re you going to today, miss?” asked the security guard at the front desk.
“KZ Modeling,” I told him.
“Do you have an appointment?” he asked.
My face flushed. “I…don’t. I’m just here to drop off lunch for my husband. Stefan Zoric?”
I held up the takeout bag.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you up without an appointment. If you like I can call up there and talk to—”
“Oh no, please don’t do that,” I interrupted. “It’s a surprise. He just works so hard, all these long hours, and I thought it’d be nice to bring him a hot meal. I’ll be so quick.”
Then I broke out my secret weapon of a smile that I’d honed over the years.
His expression melted. “Of course. That’s very sweet of you. He’s up on the twenty-ninth floor. You can check in with the receptionist up there.”
“You’re my hero,” I gushed. Worked every time.
As I stood waiting at the bank of elevators, my skin tightened with anticipation at the thought of having sex with him in his office. That would be all the proof I needed that I drove him to distraction—successfully seducing him at work. Because no one worked harder than Stefan. His entire life revolved around his job, and I wanted to change that. I wanted to be a part of his life. Wanted him to make space for me.
I knew I’d have to fight dirty to get that. So I hadn’t bothered with underwear when I’d gotten dressed.
I gave my hips a little extra swing as I stepped out onto the twenty-ninth floor, my excitement growing at the thought of seeing him. Even the reception area full of beautiful women, clearly waiting for an audience with the casting executives at KZM, didn’t faze me.
When I got to the receptionist’s desk, I thanked my lucky stars that after the wedding, Michelle had taken charge of getting me a new ID with Stefan’s last name on it.
“I’m Stefan’s wife, Victoria Zoric,” I said, sliding my ID across the desk.
The woman smiled broadly. “Hello, Mrs. Zoric,” she said. “Nice to finally meet you.”
Mrs. Zoric. I liked the sound of that.
“I’m just bringing him lunch and then I’ll be on my way. Is he in his office?” I asked.
She handed me a clipboard so I could sign in and then looked at her computer. “I believe so,” she said, pointing toward one end of the hallway.
I thanked her and headed in that direction.
The KZ Modeling offices were absolutely stunning. There were modern, black and chrome details everywhere, but the colorful, blown-up photographs on the walls kept everything from feeling too cold and stark. I wondered if Emzee had shot them.
As I passed offices with frosted glass doors, and conference rooms with more glass, I started to get nervous. What if I couldn’t find his office? What if he was in a meeting? Maybe this had been a mistake. I walked faster down the hall, reading name plaques, peeking into open doors, and letting my gaze skim the faces in the conference rooms.
Most of them were occupied by men in suits, though some of the smaller offices had models inside, chattering excitedly as they perched on chairs.
At the end of the hallway, I finally found Stefan’s office. It was across from his father’s and both of them looked like they had incredible corner office views. Konstantin’s door was closed, and I wondered if the elder Zoric was inside. I hadn’t seen him since the night of the Zoric family dinner, and I was hoping to keep it that way.
I ducked into Stefan’s office, a huge smile on my face. He wasn’t there.
Dismayed, I set the bag down on his desk. Maybe the receptionist had been mistaken. Maybe she’d read the schedule wrong. At least the food would be here for him when he returned, I reasoned.
As I came out of Stefan’s office, the door to Konstantin’s was opening. I immediately recognized Stefan, but he wasn’t alone. He had his arm around a woman in her early 20s—a KZM model, by the looks of her—and he was saying something to her in a low, soothing tone.
It was the same tone he’d used with me after my father’s heart attack, on the private plane back to the States. It was his comforting voice.
I felt a twinge of jealousy until I realized the woman was crying. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked distraught. Even so, she was striking. With her pale skin and red, curly hair that looked like a halo of flames, I pegged her for an Eastern European redhead, not Irish. She had a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth, almost giving her a redheaded Marilyn Monroe look.
Stefan’s whispers stopped abruptly when he looked up and saw me standing there.
“Just go home, try to relax,” he told the young woman, who was sniffling into a tissue. “We’ll reach out soon.”
He gestured for her to head down the hallway toward the elevators. She nodded and did as she was told. The moment she was out of sight, Stefan had his hand around my arm and was pulling me into his office.
It was exactly as I had imagined.
Only right now, he was angry, not turned on.
“What are you doing here?” he asked as soon as the o
ffice door was closed.
“I—I brought you lunch. I just came to see—”
“You shouldn’t be here.” His voice was so harsh, I stepped back involuntarily.
I couldn’t believe he was talking to me like this. Especially after the way he’d behaved at my event. My feelings had changed, but it was clear that his hadn’t.
I couldn’t help but think it had something to do with the woman he’d been comforting. Had I walked in on something he didn’t want me to see?
“Why was that woman crying?” I asked. “Did somebody—assault her?”
“That’s none of your business,” he snapped. “Stay out of it.”
I flinched. It was clear he was hiding something. “Is she…do you have a relationship with her?”
His eyes softened, and I saw a hint of the man I’d seen the other night. A hint of the man who, only moments ago, had been comforting a woman in distress.
“Of course not,” he said, some of the edge gone from his voice. “But she’s pregnant, and it’s…come as a surprise.”
Relief flooded me.
Then I realized the situation. “I guess her career’s going to be on hold for a while.”
No wonder she was so upset. This industry was impossible to get into, and who knew if she’d even get a second chance after having a baby.
Stefan nodded, letting out a long breath. “That’s right. She won’t be able to model anymore.” Then his expression hardened again. “You need to leave now,” he ordered. “Don’t ever stop in unless you’re invited. Are we clear?”
I nodded, even though I still felt like there was something he was hiding. Did he just not want his private life tangled up with his work life?
It made sense, but it still hurt.
I shouldered my purse and was just about to leave when he spoke again.
“And Tori?”
“Yes?” I turned eagerly. Maybe he’d finally noticed what I was wearing. Maybe he was going to apologize for being so gruff. Maybe he was going to thank me for thinking of him and bringing him lunch, or come clean to me about whatever he was hiding.
“I’m working late tonight. Probably all this week. Don’t wait up.”
I slammed the door on my way out.
Tori
Chapter 23
Fuming, I stormed out of the building and back onto the street. After the event at my school, it had seemed like things between us had shifted, like they were going to be different going forward.
How had I read the situation so wrong?
I didn’t want to play by Stefan’s rules anymore. If he wasn’t going to come home for dinner, why should I be there either? He had told me not to wait up—well, I wouldn’t. I was going out. It was time I had some fun on my own.
Since I’d begun my program at UChicago, Grace and I had texted a few times, but beyond assuring her that ‘things’ with my new husband had finally smoothed out, we hadn’t been able to schedule a date to catch up. I was always so busy with school, and she had just left to go on a buying trip to Italy. I debated calling Emzee and taking her up on her offer to hang out, but I was worried she’d mention it to Stefan and my plans would be thwarted. Because I didn’t just want to grab a coffee or see a movie. I wanted to party. And the fake ID I’d mentioned to Emzee at the family dinner hadn’t been a joke.
Is the invitation to join you guys for drinks still open? I texted my classmate Lila.
Some of the older students in my program had been begging me to come out with them ever since the term had started. I was always invited, but I’d been focused on my schoolwork, and making sure I was home at night to be with Stefan. On top of that, I knew the girls were all actively seeking their Prince Charmings, and I’d already found mine.
Or so I had thought.
Always, Lila responded. A feisty but sweet senior from Atlanta, Lila was the first friend I’d made in the program, and I’d helped her out a lot with her Latin 4 homework this semester. She always took charge when it came to planning the group outings. We’re hitting a few bars. You up for it?
None of them knew how young I was, and I didn’t plan to tell them. Hell yes.
She texted back, Woot! Gonna get those goody two shoes a little dirty tonight!
I couldn’t help grinning at her enthusiastic response, and I typed back a smiling devil horns emoji.
Lila responded with a flurry of excited gifs to express her approval. I laughed as they almost tripled when she looped me into the group text for the evening, and the rest of the girls expressed their excitement over me finally joining them.
We’re going to have so much fun! Diane said. She was a junior from rural Vermont, kind of a hippie, and getting a late start with her college education after spending a few years with the Peace Corps.
Wear something sexy, Audrey, the sophisticated New Yorker, added. The lower the top, the more free drinks we’ll get, LOL.
I figured that even if I went out and had some drinks with my friends, I’d still be home before Stefan. I could probably take a long shower, change into something sexy, and crawl into bed without him being the wiser—though I was annoyed that I still wanted to dress up for him after the way he had treated me. The thing was, I still wanted him. Sometimes his aggressiveness made me want him even more. Because the thought of him turning those intense, angry eyes in my direction and taking out his frustration on my body gave me all sorts of sexy chills.
I couldn’t help smiling at the thought of how pissed Stefan would be if he knew what I had planned. Not that I was going out to meet men, but I definitely planned to have fun. It would be my first time ever going out to drink and dance and have a good time.
I hurried to my closet to get dressed.
Tonight, it was all about me. I wasn’t dressing to excite or impress Stefan. I wasn’t dressing for one of my father’s events, or for Stefan’s family. I didn’t have to be proper or enticing or anything I didn’t want to be.
At the same time I didn’t want to look too expensive—my party companions were all older students on scholarships or taking out loans to get their degrees—so the last thing I wanted to do was throw my wealth (or Stefan’s) in their faces
I settled on a pair of tight black jeans and flowy silk top, but couldn’t resist pulling out the fancy red stilettos I’d gotten from the hotel boutique in Vienna. Once I added a pair of sparkly statement earrings and my Chanel purse—the one that always got me compliments when I brought it to class—I was ready for a night out on the town with my friends.
I couldn’t wait to let loose.
Back in high school, I had to be so careful with everyone in Springfield watching me and judging me. As a senator’s daughter, I had to be so squeaky clean it was exhausting sometimes. I’d agreed to let Grace hook me up with the fake ID at the start of senior year, but never had the nerve to use it. If I got caught, I wouldn’t have only been in trouble with my father; I’d be on the news. It would have damaged my father’s campaign and his reputation, jeopardized his career.
But in Chicago, I could be anonymous.
It was also nice that my new friends didn’t seem to care that I was Senator Lindsey’s daughter. To them, I was just Tori—fellow student and linguistics nerd. Who had a super hot husband.
After the mixer at school, I’d gained slight notoriety within my department for being married to a ‘grade A hottie.’ At least, that was how Lila had put it. I had no doubt that once we were all out in a more casual setting, they’d be pumping me for information about him. I’d keep the details to a minimum; I didn’t want them to know the true nature of my marriage, and I definitely didn’t need to share the more intimate details of our relationship either.
With one last swipe of lipstick and a final fluff of my hair, I headed out and dialed an Uber. I didn’t use the private car that Stefan kept on call, that way he couldn’t get a heads up from the driver on where I’d asked to be dropped off.
I arrived at the address Lila had texted me to find it was a swanky bar i
n the Loop. The girls were in the back at a table already loaded with drinks. There were four shots lined up when I walked up to the table.
“Oooooo girl,” Lila greeted me with a hug, then leaned back to appraise my outfit. “The free drinks are gonna be rolling in tonight!”
“Endless free drinks all around,” Audrey agreed.
“Only because I’m with you babes,” I said modestly but truthfully.
“You look really nice,” Diane said with a grin, raising her drink in a toast.
The three of them looked incredible. They were all a little older than me—no fake IDs necessary—and had an air of worldliness that I admired. Everyone was dressed to the nines: Lila in a body-hugging floral dress that flattered her warm skin, Diane in dark jeans and a low-cut tank top, sporting fire engine red lips, and Audrey with her signature heavy eye makeup, in a tight black skirt and matching top that showed off just a hint of midriff.
It was quite a change from their usual look, being a bunch of exhausted college students in jeans and t-shirts. This was the first time I’d seen them all dolled up and ready to party.
“You guys look amazing,” I told them as a shot of tequila was pushed toward me.
“We might be all business during the day,” Lila said. “But when it’s nighttime…”
“We go all out!” Audrey said, raising her shot. “To a good time!”
“A good time,” we all echoed before clinking our shot glasses together and tossing them back.
The tequila burned my throat and my lips began to tingle almost immediately. I didn’t drink much straight booze—most of my experience with alcohol had been tastes of champagne or wine, or those fruity cocktails I’d gotten sick off of in Vienna—but I wasn’t going to be the one person in the group drinking chardonnay while the others were tossing back shots. I was one of them tonight. Time to cut loose.
