by Stella Gray
I’ve changed. I know what I want now, and that starts with clearing obstacles from our newly married path.
Opening my purse, I pause to listen again before taking the Elite Image contract from my bag and folding it in my hand. I need to get rid of it, but I’m not sure how. I consider going down to the lobby and dropping it into an obscure garbage can, but that leaves the risk of someone inadvertently finding it. No, it needs to be permanently destroyed.
I don’t want this sinister thing hanging over me, not when I’ve resolved to move forward and enjoy my marriage to Luka, to be present in our union the way a dedicated spouse should be. If things can continue the way they have been lately, I see nothing but happiness ahead for us.
My pulse picks up, the weight of the paper heavy in my palm. I wish I could just snap my fingers and make it disappear—
I make a semi-circle, realizing there’s a fireplace in the center of the far wall. Two plush chairs are arranged around it, probably why I didn’t notice it before. Going over to it, I inspect the unit while chewing on my bottom lip. I have no idea how to use a fireplace. I realize it’s gas, and I have to turn a little knob to get it started. A small basket of long matches sits close by, which seems pretty self-explanatory. I hem and haw for a moment, worried about burning down the Shangri-La.
Finally, I turn the knob and wait until the scent of gas fills in my nose. Shivers go down my spine. What if the smell wakes him? I’ll have to tell him I couldn’t sleep and wanted some ambiance. There’s a hearth rug beneath my feet. I can slip the paper beneath it if I have to. Tight with the urgency to get this over with, I turn back to the fireplace.
Hearing nothing from the bedroom, I strike the match and place it inside the center of the fireplace. It bursts to life and I dial down the knob until the flames reach a soft, steady blaze.
My shoulders sag a little as the heat warms my face and radiates through the blanket. Slowly, quietly, I unfold the contract and look at it one last time. My gut sinks. I can’t believe I ever thought about doing this. Infiltrating Danica Rose just to get myself a high-profile campaign. Sure, marrying Luka in order to jumpstart my career might not seem that much better, but at least I wasn’t hurting anyone this way. And besides, things are different now. I love him.
The words glare up at me accusingly from the page.
…agreement consists of providing insider information regarding Danica Rose Management (hereafter “DRM”) with Elite Image…will act as informant…compensation will be provided in exchange for financial and contractual records obtained directly from DRM…
My throat burns as I crumple the paper and toss it into the fire. It catches immediately, the flames licking at the ball of deceit and lies until it begins to curl into itself and turn black. My palms grow damp, my chest going tight because it’s not burning fast enough. I want it gone.
Tears hit my eyes as the last of the contract turns to ash in the grate. Thank God. Thank God it’s over. I sit there a while longer, enjoying the heat and the rays of Paris sunlight darting in through the tall, arched windows. I can’t wait to take Luka’s hand and go explore the city. We’ll eat croissants and duck confit and French onion soup and fancy French macarons until we’re full to bursting. Have a picnic with amazing cheeses and wine. We’ll drink pressed coffees until our hearts are completely pounding, hike the steps up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, visit the Louvre. And then we’ll come back here and make love until we can’t physically move another inch.
I smile into the flames, the contentment I felt earlier settling over me. I’m so glad the contract is gone. This marriage has so much potential, and I’m finally fully committed. There’s not a doubt in my mind that Luka is, too.
Strengthened by what I’ve just done, I turn off the fireplace and make sure all the ashes have burnt down. Not a trace remains. I peer out the windows on the way back to bed, both excited for the day and exhausted since I haven’t slept much.
The double doors to the balcony are still open. Unable to resist, I step outside and am met with the immediate brilliance and warmth of the sun. Cars go by far below, the sounds of the city filtering up to me along with the strong scent of coffee probably coming from the balcony below. I gaze at the Tower and survey the skyline and the city below until the aches in my body remind me that I’ve barely slept. Luka wore me out so damn good, and I want nothing more than to crawl back into bed with him.
The covers have slipped down his hard body, revealing the firm rise of his ass and the strong lines of his muscular back. I carefully slip back into bed and spoon up against him. He moans and presses against me as if seeking the feel of my skin in his sleep. My arm goes around him, my mind floating off to all the possibilities of Paris and beyond. I trail my fingers lightly along his rigid abs, deciding I’m getting some of that room service coffee as soon as I wake up.
The sound of birds chirping is followed by a honking horn. It sounds far away. As I startle fully awake, I recall cars going by far beneath me when I was out on the balcony. Blinking, I rub my eyes and realize there’s a lack of warmth in the bed. I reach for where the comforting heat had been, but it’s empty. Luka’s gone.
A slow smile crosses my face as everything comes back to me. I wish he was still in bed, but I’m really hoping he’s gone to get some coffee, or maybe a whole brunch spread.
I open my eyes and push the hair back from my face. And jump when I find Luka standing beside the bed, looking down at me.
His face is set in stone.
A flicker of alarm makes me sit up and draw the covers over my chest.
“What’s wrong?” I reach for him. “Are you okay?”
His eyes shimmer with a blend of outright fury, and something almost like shock…what did my dad call that expression? Awestruck. But not in the good way—not in the amazed, loving sort of way he’d looked at me when I walked down the aisle. He’s wearing the kind of confusion that comes with being completely blindsided.
Betrayed.
No. Oh, no.
“Luka?” I say his name slowly, hoping desperately that it’s something else.
Anything else.
He looks as if he wants to respond but he either can’t, or else he’s afraid of what he might do if he does. His bare chest heaves, up and down, up and down, the pace increasing as he struggles with his emotions.
“How could you, Brooklyn? How the fuck could you do this?”
My lips are numb. I touch them, just to be sure they’re still there. “How could I what?”
I think I already know. But…how did he find out?
Maybe I’m wrong. It has to be something else. Something’s happened with the business, or maybe—
He thrusts his cellphone in my face, gripping it so hard that his fingertips have gone white. There’s a message from Monica Shore. My stomach bottoms out when I see her name. She’s one of Elite Image’s top models, and she’s never been shy about her dislike of me.
Hey, old friend. I thought you might like to know what your new bride has been up to. Bonne chance!
My eyes fly to Luka’s. I shake my head, but it’s a weak attempt. My fingers curl into the sheet covering my breasts as I scramble to think of something. I—I…
He angrily taps the attachment on the text message. I don’t need to see it; I know what it is. But the phone is so close to me that I can’t look away.
A strangled sound comes from deep in my throat.
It’s a copy of the contract from Elite, the same one I just burned, right there for my new husband to see. Outlining in excruciating detail all the ways I intended to betray him.
Even without my signature, I know how this looks to Luka.
This is bad.
It’s very, very bad.
Brooklyn and Luka’s story continues…
Find out what happens next in The Contract.
Also by Stella Gray
Arranged Series
The Deal
The Secret
The Choice
Convenience Series
The Sham
The Contract - July 2020
The Ruin - August 2020
About Stella Gray
Stella Gray is an emerging author of contemporary romance. When she is not writing, Stella loves to read, hike, knit and cuddle with her greyhound.
