by Stella Gray
Loosening my tie, I remove my cufflinks and roll up my shirt sleeves. My clothes feel too tight all of a sudden. Needing to calm down, I go to the large windows and look out over the city. Dusk is beginning to fall, and lights dot the buildings in different hues of silver and gold. Streaks of purple and orange fade into the encroaching night. Brooklyn should be here right now, her naked body pressed against the glass. I swear I’ll make her forget every man she’s ever fucked.
“Luka? Hi.”
I turn to find Brooklyn rubbing her hair with a towel. A pink robe clings to her curves as if she put it on while her skin was still damp, her nipples perking beneath the silky fabric.
“I texted you earlier to let you know I was home. Did you get it?”
Ah, so now she’s trying to play nice. She couldn’t be bothered to tell me she was leaving town on her very sudden, very secretive little trip, so why have a change of heart now?
“I did.” I just chose not to respond. Two can play at this game.
“Oh. Okay.” She drapes the towel over her forearm. “How was work?”
The mundane small talk sets off my frustration. Turning to fully face her, I run a hand over my mouth. “Why did you go to LA, Brooklyn?”
Her eyes widen. “I told you. For a really last-minute bachelorette party.”
“My family just threw you one a few weeks ago.”
She looks away, and I can’t tell if it’s guilt or lies she’s trying to hide from me. “I know, and it was lovely. But my LA friends had to miss it, and Mateo was already out there for work, so he thought we should have a second party so I could celebrate again.”
I’m not buying it. “What LA friends? You never mentioned them before.”
Brooklyn shrugs and pauses, probably scrambling to come up with more lies. “Just, you know. Anjali, who models part-time and runs a non-profit magazine, her boyfriend Jacob. He’s a dental student or something at USC. Pera Lutz, you’ve heard of her. She modeled for that luxury car company last year—she played the secret agent in all the commercials. And then Bowie and Harper from YouTube, they run a makeup channel.”
The names are familiar…so maybe she’s not completely lying. I take a couple steps toward her, my pulse racing. Part of me is glad she’s back. The other part is still too suspicious, too jealous, whatever, to fully embrace how nice it is having her in my—our—home again.
“Where did you have the party?”
Her smooth brow crinkles. “Why the hundred questions?”
I move closer. “What aren’t you telling me? Why can’t you just answer them?”
“I am.”
“Okay, then tell me what you did last night. Tell me all of it.” I’m so close to her now that I could touch her. I want to, but I might not be gentle, so I don’t. As if she senses how tense I am, her eyes track up to mine as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“We had a couple drinks at Mateo’s. Then we went to Shin Ho’s on Sunset for pad Thai until about eleven. And then to meet Anjali at some whiskey bar downtown that I’ve never heard of, and then home. Happy?”
“Your home is here.” The words drop from my mouth like rocks.
Her entire expression changes to one of disbelief. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to ever leave here? You know what I meant.”
There has to be another reason she took off. “And this morning, before your flight?”
She backs away with an irritated sound. “You know what, Luka, the whole possessive thing was kind of fun when I thought it meant something, but now you’re just being a dick.”
I put my arms on either side of her, caging her against the wall. “I’m just curious what my fiancée has been up to.”
She looks up at me, glaring, her breath coming faster. “I might be your fiancée, but I’m still my own person and I’m allowed to have my own life. I’ve already told you everything you need to know. There’s nothing wrong with me keeping some things to myself!”
“Fine.” Stepping closer, I press my hips into hers. “As long as you remember that your body belongs to me.”
A desperate whimper comes from her throat, her mouth parting willingly as I dip my head to kiss her hard. Her soft taste floods me and I’m overcome with how much I want her. Remembering my earlier wish, I walk her back across the room, feasting on her mouth like a starving man as we go. She gasps as her back presses against the cool glass of the window, her thin robe doing nothing to protect her from the slight chill.
I’m angry and aroused and I don’t want to control myself. I want to strip her bare and fuck her against the backdrop of the night sky and the lights, where anyone with a good view could look up and see her luscious body pressed to the glass.
Stripping the robe off her, I can’t get enough of the sight of her body. My cock is so hard for her it’s almost painful. Her chest heaves, her heavy breasts thrusting out for me, those pebbled nipples just begging to be sucked. Taking her face between my hands, I press into her and claim her mouth, kissing her until we’re both breathless. She squirms and twists with a little pant, face flushed with anger. Our eyes lock and I feel the force of her raging emotions like a blow to the chest. It’s pissing her off that she wants me so much.
She grips the front of my shirt. “You’re an asshole.”
“Get used to it.”
“Fuck you.”
“Oh, Brooklyn, I plan to fuck the memory of every man you’ve ever had right out of you. Starting now.”
I reach between her legs. She’s soaked, her juices coating my fingers as I pump them into her. She bucks against me with a moan and palms the window to steady herself. I wrap my mouth around her nipples, sucking hard, one after the other, and then trail a line of kisses up her throat until I reach her lips again. All the while, I fuck her with my hand until she’s panting my name, completely helpless. She’s so slick, it’s running down my wrist.
“I thought about this last night,” I growl against her lips. “Thought about your sweet pussy so much I had to jack off just to get to sleep.”
“Luka,” she moans, head tilted back, eyes closed.
Her cunt swells around my fingers and a flame of satisfaction lights inside me. I use my thumb to stroke her clit while I thrust, her hips rocking against my hand as I work her, feeling her getting closer and closer to the edge. She’s taking me with her, but it’s not purely sexual. I’m tiptoeing around the rim of something I don’t understand—a longing, a need to have this every night. To be the only one who makes her feel like this.
Fuck.
“Listen to me, Brooklyn.” I flick my thumb over her swollen clit. She cries out, one arm locking around my neck in a death grip. “I’m gonna make sure you never think about another man when I’m fucking you.”
“Your ego would love that, wouldn’t it?” Her eyes flash.
Instead of answering, I lower the zipper on my pants and let my cock spring free.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” I challenge, pressing against her wet cunt.
She licks her lower lip with her tongue, and I lose any sense of self-control. Grabbing her hips, I spin her so she’s facing the window and then pull her smooth, firm ass back to me. I grab one perfect globe in my hand and then slap it hard enough that it will leave a mark. She gasps with pleasure but doesn’t resist—just pushes back against me, wanting more.
I smack her ass one more time, grab a handful of her silky hair, and nudge her legs farther apart before driving into her in one perfect, hard thrust. We both cry out and I swear I could explode already. She drives me insane, pushes me further than any woman ever has. The craving never goes away and I can’t get enough of her.
“No man has ever fucked you this good.” I pull her hair until her head snaps back. A hard tremble courses through her body, her pussy clamping hard around me as I jackhammer into her. “Whatever you were doing out in LA, whoever you were doing, I’m gonna make sure you can’t think about him while I’m inside you. I’m gonna fuck anyone else right out of you.�
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She makes a desperate sound as she drives her hips back to meet my thrusts. I ram into her harder, harder, the burn of jealousy surprising me. All the tension and anger and worry of thinking about her being with Mateo or another man floods out of me as I ride her until we’re both strung tight.
“Luka, please.” Her soft, desperate plea drives me to finally push her over the edge. I reach around and stroke her clit as I increase my pace. It only takes seconds and she’s crying out with the force of her orgasm, her whole body tensing up as the climax slams through her. I lose control and come with her, pressing her into the glass with both hands until we finally go still.
Breathing hard. Sweaty. Lost in our own thoughts.
I want to stay pissed at her, but I want to carry her to my bed and feel the warmth of her body next to me all night even more. Running a hand through my hair, I pull away and slip an arm around her waist to steady her as she turns to face me.
Brooklyn searches my eyes as if she’s waiting for me to say something…or maybe she has something to say herself, but in the end she doesn’t. Goosebumps rise on her body and I quickly retrieve her robe and wrap it around her shoulders. The moment is over, the possessive jealousy fucked right out of me. But I still want her.
Even as she walks quietly away to her room, I wish she would turn around and run into my arms.
But she doesn’t. And I don’t do anything to stop her.
Brooklyn
Chapter 25
The wedding is tomorrow.
We’re at the rehearsal dinner and I’m on my second glass of champagne to help steady my nerves, but it’s not working.
It feels as if there are a million people here—Luka extended invitations to the majority of the wedding guests, not just the wedding party—most of whom I don’t even know. Luka’s family. Family friends. Friends of friends. Godparents, cousins twice removed, random children. I try to keep my sights set on my parents and Mateo and those who have become closest to me in the short time Luka and I have been engaged. His sister, brother, sister-in-law. They’re my tribe.
I take another sip as a sudden realization sinks in. Luka’s family accepts me. They are fully on board with this sham wedding, and even his ice queen sister Emzee has come around to actually liking me. In fact, she texts me silly pictures of her dog Munchkin almost every day now, and in return I send pics from my modeling gigs—anything visually interesting that would appeal to her photographer’s eye. But in the end, I’m still keeping secrets from all of them, and the guilt I’ve been struggling with has only gotten worse since this damn dinner started.
“Excuse me,” an imperious female voice says.
I glance up to find the scrutinizing face of an older woman with perfectly styled gray hair, a sleek pinstripe pantsuit, and heavy gold earrings. She offers the tips of her fingers in one of those dead fish-type handshakes. I make it fast and plaster on a smile. Before she can say more, Luka gives her a warm hug with a genuine smile.
“Brooklyn, my aunt Vivian. She flew all the way from Morocco to be here and was hoping to get to know you before the wedding.”
“So you’re Brooklyn Moss,” she says, smiling tightly and giving a cocky tilt of her head as she side-eyes me. I feel judged, as if she knows what I’m up to. Then again, Luka comes from money. Lots of money. She’d probably scrutinize anyone he chose to marry.
“Yes. It’s wonderful to meet you,” I say pleasantly.
“Mmm-hmm. Well, they do say the heart wants what it wants.” She sniffs at me and then turns a bright gaze on Luka, patting his cheek affectionately, and my heart sinks. He doesn’t speak about his family much. I know he lost his mother at a young age and was raised by a series of nannies and babysitters, but never had a steady maternal influence in his life. Whatever relationship he has with his aunt, though, makes his eyes light up.
Once again, my guilt nearly suffocates me.
I’m a horrible person.
I start to rise to go get some fresh air, but then my bridesmaids come over to swarm me with hugs and hand me a shot of something dark and creamy. I toss it back, wishing we had more time together, but they have to rush to take their seats since the meal is about to be served. I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat a single bite. I’m so ready to get this over with.
Another relative of Luka’s comes over to meet me, and then another, and finally I’m standing because there are two more waiting in line to say hello and my arm begins to ache from lifting it while sitting to shake hands. My head is swimming, and it’s not from the alcohol.
Something warm touches between my shoulder blades and I look up to see Luka’s smiling face. His brow crinkles. “You look pale. Do you need to step out for a minute? I can cover for you.”
I smile and wave him off. “I’m fine. Just hungry, I guess.”
He looks like he doesn’t believe me. “I know this is probably overwhelming for you, but so much of my extended family flew in for the wedding that there wasn’t going to be time to visit with all of them tomorrow, so it seemed best to just invite everyone—”
“We talked about it already, and I really get it,” I reassure him. “Besides, it’s your wedding, too. Enjoy your family time.”
He rubs my back in a little circle—a gesture of appreciation. He’s being sincere, once again showing me the side of him that might really care about me. But I truly can’t tell if he’s into me, or just going through the motions because of the wedding, or trying to make up for the angry sex we had after he got so jealous over my trip to LA. No matter his reasons, though, I can’t shake the feeling that something amazing could really blossom between us if we let it. And I have to admit, I want that. We both deserve it, but I don’t know how to get from here to there.
Especially considering the contract that’s folded up in my purse right now. It’s a reminder that I haven’t fully committed to Luka the way I should if I want to be his real wife. Real wives don’t purposely deceive their husbands or play dirty to get what they want.
No. I could have Luka and a healthy relationship. My name is already getting around in all the right circles thanks to my connection to him and my contract with Danica Rose Management. I’ve had job after job lined up ever since I signed, and though most of them have been smaller campaigns, I know that in time I’ll be a household name, and everyone will know my face. I’ll be making a ton of my own money, if I just stay the course.
Or…or I could sign the Elite Image contract and become a household name right now. No waiting required. The Maxilene contract will propel me to international fame and recognition in the blink of an eye. But if I do sign, I lose Luka.
Forever.
“And then he said, ‘Spirulina is nothing more than fancy algae. Why don’t you just scoop some out of the fountain on campus and put that in your smoothie?’” Everyone behind us starts laughing at Tori as she tries to impersonate her husband’s commanding, overly serious voice.
“I do not sound like that,” Stefan protests, sounding commanding and overly serious.
“You do too!” she insists. “And for the record, you’ve already been drinking fancy algae in your smoothie every morning. That’s why you’re so handsome.”
“Ah. So I have you to thank for that,” he says, finally cracking a smile and pulling her in for a kiss.
Everyone ooohs. Everyone but me. I’m too torn up over the line I’m walking with Luka.
The teasing continues, much to everyone’s delight.
“You’re lucky you have me to take care of you,” Tori says. “You know who else is lucky?” She puts her hands on Luka’s shoulders and gives him a kiss on the cheek. “I’m sure Brooklyn will be forcing you to drink your greens soon, too.”
Luka gives a look of mock horror. “In that case, I better double down on tempura and cheesecake while I still can.”
They’re all looking at me while they jest and have fun. I force a smile, but my soul hurts too much to really join in. They hope that I’m going to take care of Luk
a, that things will work out splendidly for us the way Stefan and Tori’s arranged marriage did. But the difference is, they love each other for real. They take care of each other for real. They’re happy just being together.
The meal turns into a pleasantly chaotic mess, everyone standing or walking around the room, taking a bite of this or that and then finding someone else to talk to. It’s nice seeing all the people in Luka’s life having such a genuinely good time. I just wish I felt their lightheartedness.
I push the food around on my plate, the burning in my throat preventing me from enjoying any of it. Water isn’t helping, nor is the champagne.
“Brooklyn!” a voice hisses.
When I look over my shoulder, I see Emzee triumphantly marching over with a stack of magazines under her arm.
“What are those?”
She grins. “Travel magazines, National Geographic, a Lonely Planet guide, and a few random others. These all have articles on romantic destinations, so you can start getting ideas for sightseeing on your honeymoon! I’ve been pulling this stash together as part of your wedding present, but I thought you might want to get started now.”
My mouth falls open. “Oh, wow. Thank you, Em. That was so thoughtful.”
“I’m going to put these with Luka’s coat so you can take them on your way out. You guys are going to have the best time,” she gushes, before heading back to her table.
I take a deep breath. I can’t keep holding my secret inside. Tomorrow is my wedding day and for all it’s worth, I want my marriage to start out right and not on a foundation of lies. We might not be able to change the reasons we became engaged, but I can do my part to make it better from here on out. Just not with the contract mocking me from the depths of my purse.
Luka takes his seat next to me and I study his profile as he laughs with the woman next to him. Slowly, I run my hand over his thigh beneath the table, a tingle going up my arm at his firm warmth. I know what I want to do. It’s time to come clean.
