by Stella Gray
He’s using me, I remind myself. I’m using him.
This is all a sham.
But is it so wrong to be attracted to the man who’s going to spend the next three years acting as my pretend husband?
He pulls away finally and we move through a series of new positions at Emzee’s direction. I’m a supple model, having as much professional experience as I do in that arena, and I do exactly as I’m told and play my part. I never wanted to be an actress, but I have a feeling that I’m going to have to be in order to get through this marriage.
Then, Luka flicks me a gaze that’s full of heat and challenge. He wants me to act on my body’s demands. The glint in his eyes feels like he’s daring me to.
Maybe it’s a challenge I’d accept, except that he already has an advantage over me. He can fuck me and forget about it afterward. Me? I don’t have the luxury of being that callous.
I still remember every detail, and if I’m not careful to guard my heart…it could ruin me.
Brooklyn
Chapter 11
Luka is really good at playing fiancé.
We’re in the den of his penthouse and I can’t stop the flutters in my stomach. In just a few minutes, the primetime gossip show Celebrity Chat will air—and millions of people will see the interview where Luka and I announce our engagement. I’m a ball of nerves.
Luka, meanwhile, is digging around in his kitchen for snacks like we’re about to watch a college football game.
“Do you like olives?” he calls out to me from the other room.
“Sure,” I answer, though I don’t have much of an appetite.
I have to admit, it’s kind of sweet that he invited me over for the airing. The interview had been a lot more fun than I’d expected. Luka was surprisingly attentive and affectionate, giving the host no reason to suspect that our relationship was all a sham. I mean, I almost believed our engagement was real by the time we were done. A couple of weeks have gone by since we decided to do this, and I’m finally starting to feel comfortable with my decision. We even took my parents out for lunch to break the news, and he charmed the pants off them both.
“Prosecco or water?” he asks, dropping off a couple of crystal flutes on the coffee table.
“Water’s great,” I say with an anxious smile. I wouldn’t mind a drink to calm my nerves, honestly, but I know Luka’s on a strict alcohol limit, and it feels nice to support him this way. Especially considering how supportive he’s been.
He’s gone out of his way to soothe my worries the past few weeks, exhibiting incredible patience every time I call or text him, and he readily agreed when I asked if we could color-coordinate our outfits for the Celebrity Chat interview. But what really blew me away was how he’d held my hand during the entire course of the filming, his grip sure and steady. Even the show host had remarked on our obvious chemistry, and the fact that Luka couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off me.
I’d been enjoying it. Not going to lie. There were times it had almost seemed real.
He bustles back in and sets down an amazing spread of cheese, crackers, and other assorted gourmet accoutrements and then pours us both water with sliced lemon from a carafe.
“This is way too fancy,” I say, swiping a few red grapes. “Did you really put this together yourself?”
“Oh, Brooklyn. You’ll soon find out I’m a man of…many hidden talents,” he says with a smirk, his gaze dropping lazily down my body and back up again.
There’s a familiar tightening between my legs, and I force myself to look away. I didn’t come over here to have sex with my fake fiancé, I remind myself.
Feeling the need to deflect the sexual tension, I tease, “You seem excited about this.”
His smile gets more genuine. “Honestly, when my brother said I had to get married, I thought my life was imploding. But if I have to go through with this, I’m glad it’s with you.”
He puts his hand on my knee and I take a sip of water because my throat is suddenly dry. I don’t want to tame his enthusiasm—it makes us look good—but I can’t help feeling thrown by the fact that he’s diving head-first into this whole thing while I’m still struggling with my guilt.
Being level-headed is my default, and so far, I’ve kept my integrity while growing my career, which isn’t easy to do in the modeling industry. But in agreeing to this marriage, I made the decision to let some of that integrity slide, and now I’m struggling to remind myself that it’s no big deal. People do sketchy things to reach their career goals all the time. I’ll fit right in with all the uber successful. I just have to keep my head on straight and remember what this is.
A business arrangement.
I glance at my fiancé. He’ll never have to know the true extent of what I’ve done. And in the end, it doesn’t matter.
The theme music for the show suddenly comes on full blast, and my heart skips a beat.
“It’s starting,” Luka says, grabbing the remote. “Do you have the picture of your ring ready to go?”
“Locked and loaded,” I answer, pulling out my phone.
His cologne surrounds me as he adjusts his body on the loveseat, leaning into me. Little goosebumps run down my spine as his warmth radiates against me from thigh to shoulder. I tense up a bit in anticipation of his arm going around me, but instead he reaches for a brie-smeared cracker and turns up the volume on the fifty-two-inch flat screen.
I scroll through my photos until I land on the money shot—our hands clasped over a backdrop of the Chicago skyline lit up at night, my diamond ring sparkling obscenely—already zoomed and filtered to perfection. As soon as the Celebrity Chat host announces our engagement, I’ll be putting up the pic on my Insta account. With luck, people will care enough to keep the happy news rolling through social media until our faces are plastered everywhere.
Luka’s thigh tenses against mine and my nipples perk. I’m wearing a thin bralette and an off-the-shoulder top, which I’m sure do little to hide my reaction to him, but he’s so focused on the TV that he doesn’t notice. I’m not sure if I’m happy or disappointed about that. I like it when he touches me, and I want more. It’s a good way to test my boundaries, I tell myself. See how far we can take things as a fake couple. Theoretically, sex is on the table, but I’m not ready for it.
Yet.
“Here we go,” Luka says.
Suddenly, I’m staring at myself on screen, cozied up to one of the hottest men alive, gushing about how in love we are. The host chats and laughs excitedly as if she just can’t get enough of us. I don’t remember her being so exuberant during the actual interview; I’d been too nervous to soak up much of what was actually happening.
“…such a whirlwind,” I say on screen, nuzzling against Luka’s shoulder.
“I’d actually taken a break from dating when we met, but you know what they say about love at first sight,” Luka tells the host, managing to sound sincere, and they both laugh.
“We look great together,” I say, turning to Luka to gauge his reaction.
“There was never any doubt about that,” he says, absently tracing circles over my knee with his finger. A little shiver runs through me, and I drag my eyes back to the show.
It’s a relief to watch myself now and realize that I got through all the host’s questions without making a fool of myself on national TV. My pulse kicks up another notch as the interview reaches the moment that Luka and I have been waiting for.
“So…let’s see the ring!” the host says, leaning forward, and I give her my hand with a thrilled smile while the shot jump-cuts to a close up.
“Instagram time,” Luka says.
As if I needed a reminder. I hit upload, and our eyes lock as I wait for the photo to pop up on my IG account…and just like that, my beautiful diamond is out there for the whole world to see.
I flash him my phone screen. “Our engagement is officially official,” I tell him.
“Here goes nothing,” he says, leaning back with a relieved sigh and tur
ning down the TV.
Within seconds, my phone starts buzzing nonstop with social media notifications. I’m almost afraid to see what’s happening on IG, but Luka’s looking at me expectantly. So I open up the app, and I can’t believe it. I have a pretty active following, but this is crazy. My account is blowing up with hundreds of followers already congratulating us and sharing the pic. The comments and shares are rolling in so fast, I can’t keep up.
“Whoa!” I laugh. “People are going nuts. It hasn’t even been five minutes!”
He arches a brow. “No one expected me to ever settle down. I’m sure the news is worth gossiping about.”
“Ah yes, your playboy ways are the true impetus to our success.” I’m teasing, even though there’s a big dose of truth in that.
“This calls for a celebration,” Luka announces. “Let me go rustle up some champagne.”
“You sure?” I ask. “Don’t want to throw off your weekend quota.”
“You’re worth it,” he says with a smile, and I can feel my cheeks heating.
My phone vibrates with an incoming call just as he leaves the room. I glance down and let out a gasp when I realize it’s Elite Image. I consider declining the call, but I don’t want to risk them calling over and over again while I’m here in Luka’s penthouse.
Scrambling from the sofa, I pick up and hurry to the hallway, keeping my voice low. “You can’t be calling me like this,” I scold in a harsh whisper.
“My apologies,” says the male voice on the other line, “I should have called from another number. Just wanted to say we saw your engagement announcement. It came as a surprise to us, as you can imagine. Does this mean you aren’t interested in what we discussed?”
I rub my eyes and listen for any sound of Luka returning to the living room. I’ve been stressing about this nonstop, but I’m still not sure what to say. Yes, I have my contract with Danica Rose now, but the company is still so vulnerable after KZM’s trafficking scandal that I’d be a fool not to cast my net wide in case DRM collapses. I’m learning quickly that in this business, you can never have too many back-up plans.
“No, of course not,” I gush. “I’m definitely still interested.” Maybe I should have informed them about the engagement in advance, but honestly, I didn’t think they’d care how I went about getting them what they want from Danica Rose, as long as they got their results. And with everything going on, I’d tried to put Elite out of my mind as much as possible.
“Great. You’ll still be able to deliver everything that we’ve asked for?”
“Yes,” I tell him. “It won’t be a problem.”
“Perfect. Let’s just run through the details one more time.”
The sound of footfalls grabs my attention and I catch a flash of Luka coming back into the den. I cup my hand around my mouth and whisper, “Now isn’t a good time. I’ll call you later.”
I hang up and slip my phone into my pocket. My pulse races and I hope the guilt doesn’t show on my face. Thank goodness Luka hadn’t been in the room when the call came in and the name “Elite Image” popped up on my cell screen. As much as I excel at vamping for the camera and playing the part of a happy, carefree model (or fiancée), I’ve never been a good liar when someone confronts me. It’s something I’ll have to get better at if I’m going to pull this off.
Putting on a smile, I return to the couch just as he hands me a flute of champagne. Then he settles in next to me with a half glass of his own.
“Who was that?” he asks off-handedly, which makes it a little easier for me to lie. If he’d acted suspicious at all, I would totally be floundering right now.
“Oh, just Mateo calling to congratulate us.” I avert my eyes and quickly sip my champagne, relieved when Luka nods. “So now that we’re official, I’d love to hear about what kinds of projects are coming down the pipeline. Any major campaigns on the horizon?”
Focusing on my actual goals makes me feel like less of an asshole for evading him.
He ponders the question and takes a small sip of champagne. “Actually, I’m wooing a few clients that I’d love to pitch you for. Philippa Fontaine has a new line of stilettos coming out and they asked for, and I quote, ‘legs to die for.’ Sounds like someone I know.” He looks over suggestively. “But I want to get your face out there, too. You’ve heard of Shay cosmetics?”
I smile. Shay is huge. “I’ve heard they’re organic and eco-friendly, and they definitely get a lot of celebrity endorsements. I’d be interested.”
“You’re a shoo-in,” he says. “They want a fresh face, warm skin tone, someone who can pull off the innocent, girl-next-door look. If this isn’t cut out for you, I don’t know what is.”
“Are you saying that I look innocent?”
I bat my eyes playfully as the words tumble out of my mouth. He sweeps me with a heated gaze, and I realize it’s too late to take back the flirting.
“You pull it off very well,” he says, his voice low. “Though I know better. In reality, you’re just biding your time, waiting for your next unsuspecting victim.”
I huff a short laugh and drain my flute.
“When were you ever unsuspecting?” I need to stop this game, but I can’t. It’s dangerous, but I don’t care. I want him closer, touching me everywhere. His body on top of me.
Claiming me.
His gaze falls to my lips. “The day we took our engagement photos.”
I’m almost breathless. “What do you mean?”
His fingers cup my cheek as he slides fully into my space. “You gave me a kiss I can’t forget. The way your lips felt…how you taste…”
“Oh,” I breathe just as his mouth closes over mine.
Our tongues tangle, hot and hungry, and my nipples harden so fast they tingle against my bra. Arching my back, I press my chest into his, needing to feel our bodies connect. I let out a soft moan and slip my hands around the back of his neck and suddenly he’s pulling me onto his lap. Without even thinking about it, I straddle him, feeling him grip my ass tight.
I don’t fight this. I take it. I don’t care where the excitement inside me is coming from, as long as Luka soothes the ache. It’s been an eternity since he’s given me the release I crave.
I kiss him like I never want to stop, losing myself in the stroke and glide. His arousal is becoming obvious. A smile plays over my lips as I grind down on him, even though I know I’m playing with fire. I let him palm my breasts, moaning again when his fingers run down my sides. Then he pauses at the waist of my leggings, as if waiting for a signal to go further.
“Mm-hmm,” I purr, tilting my hips to give him access. I shush the voices in my mind that tell me this is a horrible idea, and just go with it. I want him so fucking badly. The desire for Luka is like this needy little pulse that never goes away. I ignore it the best I can, but it’s always there, tapping away at my resolve, begging for attention. Maybe giving in is exactly what I need.
My thighs open as his fingers dip past my waistband to graze over my bare pussy. He groans when he realizes I’m not wearing panties. On a subconscious level, it may have been intentional. I don’t know, I’m just glad I skipped them, giving him free access.
He parts me and traces a finger up my wet slit, then swirls his fingertip around my clit. I get such a jolt I nearly jump off the couch. Deepening the kiss, he continues to glide and swirl his finger as his mouth plunders mine. I quickly lose all self-control, leaning into his touch.
“You’re going to come all over my hand like a good girl, aren’t you?” he growls.
The desire in his voice pushes me even closer to an orgasm. I mumble an affirmative, drowning in the way he’s finger-fucking me like a pro, my pussy soaked and aching with need.
“Let’s see how innocent you’re definitely not,” he says. Then he switches from toying languidly to plunging his fingers hard and deep inside me.
“Oh my God,” I pant, frozen for a second as I try to catch my breath. It feels so good, almost as good as his cock, an
d soon I’m bucking helplessly against his thick, perfect fingers as they stroke me long and hard.
I grab his shoulders, bracing myself as I fuck his fingers. He increases the pace and uses his thumb to brush softly over my clit, applying pressure and then alternating back to soft brushes. I can’t stop moaning into his mouth, digging my nails harder into his shoulders.
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna come for me. Come for me, baby.”
“Fuck,” I gasp.
God, I can’t believe he’s doing this with his hands. I’ve never been with anyone who could get me off like this. My core is buzzing, hot, tingling, and I let him bring me to the brink, losing all sense of time and place…until without warning, my entire body tenses up and I peak, the orgasm slamming through me in a hot rush as I cry out against his neck.
I feel him smile as a groan comes from deep in his throat.
Desperate to feel him inside of me as I ride out the shockwaves of pleasure, I pull his hand away and grab the waist of his pants, tugging at the button. Midway through unzipping him, something vibrates against my leg. I ignore it, but the vibration gets stronger. Irritated, I reach down and find his cellphone sticking out of the cushion near my ankle.
I grab it so I can turn it to silent, but then a text pops up from LOVES ANAL.
I’m in town. Same time and place?
My stomach lurches as Luka grabs the phone and fumbles to power it down.
“Ignore that,” he says, his hands coming up to pull me back down for a kiss.
Yeah, not likely. Who the hell was that?
And even worse: why did I think I could keep my emotions out of this?
I break away from his lips and sit back against the couch cushions, my breath still coming fast and hard. Luka reaches for me, but I gently push his hand away. The moment is over.
