The Secret

by Stella Gray

  “I thought you’d appreciate it,” Gavin said.

  We chatted about our classes at school until our food arrived, a delicious spread of shrimp and linguini and a steak cooked so perfectly it practically melted in my mouth.

  “This is way too fancy,” I said in between bites. “I shouldn’t have let you order.”

  “It’s the least I can do after you tutored me back up to a B+ in Latin,” he said. “Those conjugations kill me every time.”

  “You never seem to struggle during our sessions,” I pointed out.

  “That’s because I have such a good teacher,” he said, reaching across the table to take my hand. Our eyes locked. “Do you have any idea how amazing you are?”

  I felt my pulse quicken and I pulled my hand away. “Gavin, I—I really, really like you. But…as a friend. This isn’t a date.”

  I couldn’t help wondering, though, what it would be like to date Gavin. He didn’t just call me princess—he treated me like one. And almost anyone would treat me better than Stefan had been lately. Gavin was also handsome, there was no denying it. He didn’t have the same confidence and polish that Stefan carried himself with, the same animal magnetism that made my knees go weak, but who did? Stefan was a breed in and of himself—I knew I would just be disappointed if I tried to compare any other man to him.

  But Gavin had other things going for him. For one, he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who broke the law. He certainly wasn’t involved in running a trafficking ring, but I doubted he had ever even jaywalked. He had that all-American, squeaky clean persona going for him. The kind of guy who wore faded, well-fitting jeans and a T-shirt. He was casual. Laid-back. Simple. Easy.

  Exactly what I needed right now.

  Yet all I could think about was my traitorous, cold, but incredibly sexy husband.

  “Of course it’s not a date,” Gavin said, laughing it off casually. “We’re just two friends out for a celebratory meal. I didn’t mean anything by it.” But his gaze slid away from mine.

  “And anyway, I’m not amazing. I’m just awesome at Latin because I spent four years studying it obsessively in high school,” I said, trying to deflect the tension between us. “Total nerd status.”

  “You’re not a nerd,” he said. “You’re brilliant.”

  I blushed all the way to my toes.

  “And besides, look how far it’s gotten you,” he went on. “Labor omnia vincit.”

  “‘Hard work conquers all’,” I translated with a sigh. “All except my mental health. This semester is actually making me crazy. I can’t believe midterms are already coming up.”

  “Then maybe the more relevant phrase is, ‘panem et circenses’?” he said, raising a brow.

  “‘Bread and circuses’?” I asked, mopping up a bit of melted butter with the last scrap of French bread.

  “They’re said to be the basic requirements for human happiness,” he said. “You know. Food and entertainment.”

  “Well, we’ve got half of that covered,” I said, gesturing at the now-empty plates.

  He grinned. “Then let me take you to the other half.”

  The other half turned out to be the Funhouse Maze, full of twists and turns and glowing fluorescent lights, room after room of glow-in-the-dark landscapes, tunnels, mirrors, and galaxies splashed across the floors. There was also a game where you chased colored lights for points. I didn’t even realize I’d been clinging to Gavin’s arm the whole time until we were finally out of the place and back on the pier. I was completely out of breath, and couldn’t stop laughing despite how brisk the air had gotten, how bracing the wind was.

  “That was so fun!” It had been so nice to get outside my own head for a while.

  Gavin grinned, and gently let my arm go. “My mom used to take me and my brother Frank here when we were little. We used to race to see who could get out of the maze first.”

  “Well thanks for showing me,” I said.

  We had a quiet moment, just smiling at each other contentedly. It was so relaxed between us, so warm. So different from what I had been experiencing with Stefan these past few months. Here was someone who was kind to me, who asked for my opinion, who listened to me. Who seemed to genuinely like me.

  I broke our gaze and realized a single snowflake had dropped onto my coat. And then another. And then two more. “It’s snowing,” I said. “I told you! First snow of the season.”

  We looked up at the sky and watched a million little flurries come down, catching the light from the pier attractions as they floated toward us like feathers. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the soft flakes tickle my face. When I laughed, I realized Gavin’s lips were almost brushing mine, the heat of his mouth so close I could feel it.

  I imagined myself tilting closer, closing the gap between our lips and finding out what kissing Gavin felt like, seeing if I could lose myself in it—but suddenly all I could see was intense green eyes, dark hair, that chiseled jawline. Stefan.

  I pulled away abruptly.

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “I’m sorry, Tori. God, I’m an idiot. You just looked so…” Gavin shook his head, running a hand through his hair, and I could tell he really hadn’t meant to lose control. “No excuses. That was strike two. I better put you in a cab.”

  We walked down the pier wordlessly, until we finally reached the street where the taxis were queuing up.

  “Listen,” I said, as my cab pulled forward. “I had a great time. Let’s just forget about the…what happened. Water under the bridge.”

  He nodded. “Still friends?”

  “Of course.” I smiled and ducked into the back of the car. “Maybe we can do this again sometime. Invite the others, too.”

  “Yup. See you in class.”

  I gave a final wave and rolled the window up, burrowing into the warmth of my coat in the backseat.

  As we pulled away from the curb, I turned to watch him. He stood there, hand still raised in goodbye as tiny snowflakes drifted onto his shoulders. I couldn’t believe what a complete idiot I was being. Here was a kind, handsome, smart, and equally studious man who liked me, word-nerdiness and all. Why couldn’t I like him back? Why couldn’t I kiss him? Why couldn’t I go out with him and have fun without guilt?

  But try as I might to get lost in my not-date with Gavin, I still hadn’t been able to erase Stefan from my thoughts. All night I’d been thinking about his kiss. His cock. I told myself that it was normal to feel like this, to have confusing, conflicting emotions, to desire him physically and emotionally even when I knew who he really was. What he was capable of.

  But I still hated myself for it.

  It wasn’t fair. I never would have followed through with my marriage to Stefan if I had known what it really meant. But they had all kept the truth from me—my father, Konstantin Zoric, Stefan himself—all of them had obscured the reality of what I was agreeing to.

  My brain knew this.

  My heart on the other hand…

  My heart seemed to be having a much harder time letting go of the fantasy I had imagined on the night of my eighteenth birthday. The night where I had been dressed like a princess and promised a fairy tale wedding. A romantic future. A marriage of possibilities. I had considered myself and Stefan a team, working together to break free from our fathers’ machinations for our respective futures. I had never imagined that Stefan was part of those machinations. That he was just as much the enemy as my father was.

  A tear slipped down my cheek and I quickly swiped it away. I was tired of crying over Stefan, but I couldn’t help myself. A part of me was still grieving for the fantasy that had died. The fantasy I had built out of a look from a handsome man across a ballroom. The fantasy I had built from a kiss. From a promise.

  It had all been nothing but a lie.

  My mind knew it. My mind knew exactly what had happened, what was still happening—and exactly how fucked up the whole situation was.

  I just needed to convince my heart
of the same.

  Tori

  Chapter 4

  Though it was a cold, overcast November day in Chicago, as far as I was concerned, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and everything was on the upside.

  I’d been stressing for weeks about a big project for my Linguistic Landscapes class, a group assignment worth 30% of our grade. Luckily I’d been partnered with Gavin and Diane, my good friend and hippie classmate from Vermont, both of whom took the class as seriously as I did. And today, the results were finally in. Our geo-tagged map of Chicago and the accompanying research paper on the usage and display of language at specific spots in the city had earned us all a big fat A. Praise Jesus.

  We’d worked our tails off, taken field trips all over town to snap photos of signs, subway maps, informational displays, and place markers, and the paper we’d all taken turns writing examined the way language was used to communicate with the public via these signs. With midterm exams looming ever closer, it was a huge relief to know I had this class practically in the bag. Professor Angstrom, for all her enthusiastic and brilliant lecturing, was not known to grade gently.

  “We kicked its ass!” I yelled. With a whoop of triumph, I spun away from the grade sheet posted on the bulletin board outside our lecture hall. It took all of my self-control not to rip the paper off the board and kiss it—or run back inside the classroom to kiss our professor—but instead I threw my arms around Diane and Gavin, pulling them in for a group hug.

  “Angstrom gave us an A!” I crowed. “You guys really came through for me. I owe you.”

  It felt like a huge victory—despite the fight with my father and the awful situation at home with my monstrous husband and our cold relationship, I’d managed to double down on my studies and lean on my school friends so I could keep up with my program. It was so much easier to focus on schoolwork than it was to think about Stefan and everything going on with KZM.

  “Angstrom didn’t “give” us anything—we earned that A. We make a great team.” Diane laughed in her gentle way, readjusting the hemp backpack that I’d knocked off her shoulder. “And you definitely don’t owe us anything. We all contributed equally.”

  “I disagree about the owing,” Gavin said warmly, looking straight at me. “I think we’ve earned ourselves a celebration. You do owe us that.”

  If he was holding a grudge for the almost-kiss that I’d rejected on our not-date at Navy Pier, he kept it well hidden. If anything, he’d been treating me with even more kindness lately. When we studied with our group, he was always checking in to make sure I had everything I needed, occasionally asking how things were going with my father or if Stefan’s late nights at work had eased up at all (in both cases I had no news to report). I’d never had such an abundance of highlighters, study snacks, or sympathetic ears in my life. Gavin was actually kind of perfect.

  Just not perfect for me.

  “You’re coming out tonight, right?” he asked after we had gotten out of our last class later that evening. “Diane said Audrey is in, too. And Lila’s bringing Tucker, so we’ll have a little friendly testosterone to balance us out at the bar.” He shot me that winning, dimpled grin.

  “I don’t know,” I said, still debating.

  I knew it was stupid, but part of me wanted to be at home tonight waiting for Stefan, so I could tell him about my A. I’d mentioned the project in passing, since it had required me to ask for help using the printer in his home office, and I had stressed that it was a huge part of my grade. I couldn’t help wanting to brag, hoping he’d maybe say he was proud of me. I still wanted to believe that the man who had attended the program’s first semester mixer with me, who’d played the perfect, supportive spouse in front of the dean and my favorite professor and all my classmates, was still in there somewhere. That it hadn’t all been an act. That some of it was real.

  But I knew I was setting myself up for disappointment.

  “Come on,” Gavin urged. “You’ve been hitting the books nonstop lately. Which, don’t get me wrong, is awesome. I’m incredibly impressed with you. Totally in awe.”

  There he went, making me blush again. “Everybody studies,” I deflected.

  Gavin squeezed my shoulder, sending warmth through me. “Not like you do, Tori. But my point is, you need a break. You’ve earned it. Panem et circenses, remember?”

  Bread and circuses—the Latin phrase he’d taught me on our not-date. And he was right. I needed food and entertainment to be happy, to live a full life. I’d been hibernating for weeks.

  “Are you saying there’s food involved?” I asked.

  “Absolutely there will be food,” Gavin said. “I’ll pick you up around eight.”

  “Oh, no,” I said. “Thank you. But I can take a car. Really. It’d be better if…well. I prefer to do my own thing.”

  I didn’t want to tell him that I was afraid Stefan might see me leaving with Gavin, might get the wrong impression. Even though making my husband jealous might be a smart move, all things considered, I didn’t want to add to our marital struggles right now.

  “Is this just your way of bailing out?” Gavin teased. “I can tell you’re still waffling.”

  I thought about it for a moment, weighing my options. I could go home, eat alone and hide in my room until Stefan came home, ultimately tossing and turning until I fell asleep alone…or I could go out and have fun, celebrate my academic victories with a group of friends who genuinely liked spending time with me, including one very handsome man who would probably kiss me the second I gave him the go ahead. Not that I would.

  But I could. If I wanted to.

  “I need to go home and shower and change,” I told Gavin. “But I’ll be there. Text me the address where you guys are gonna be and I’ll meet up with you.”

  “Promise?” he asked.

  I grinned. “Promise. I can’t wait.”

  I was still smiling when I got home, but that smile dropped when I got to my room and found a complete outfit laid out on my bed.

  And not just an everyday outfit or something that had been pulled from my closet. No, everything on my bed was brand new, obviously expensive, and very, very classy.

  I saw an elegant Chanel evening bag, black with a gold clasp, and a matching pair of heels beside it. There were several velvet jewelry boxes, containing a diamond cuff bracelet that almost looked like a piece of lace with all its intricate filigree work, two more delicate gold bangles to match, and an opera-length pearl necklace. And then there was the dress.

  There was no denying it was absolutely gorgeous.

  It was a black Gucci gown, perfect for the late fall season with its bracelet-length, longer sleeves and floor-length hem. The fabric was sleek, with a hint of sheen, the waistline ruched and the back open. Besides the daring back and a subtle, thigh-high slit up the skirt—that could expose either none or most of my left leg, depending on how I was standing—the dress was fairly modest. That perfect combination of sexy and respectable. I couldn’t help touching the fabric gently, not sure why this outfit was on my bed.

  Then I heard footsteps behind me.

  Stefan hadn’t just come home before to set all this out for me—he was still here.

  I whirled to face him.

  Annoyingly, and unsurprisingly, my heart started pounding at the sight of him. He was dressed in one of my favorite suits of his, a black Armani with a satin collar that fit him impeccably. His dark hair was combed, but a stray lock had already fallen over his forehead, giving him a devil-may-care appearance that made my pulse leap and my core go hot and liquid.

  I told myself that it wasn’t my fault for reacting this way. He was an attractive man. My body, therefore, was attracted to him. That didn’t mean anything had changed between us.

  “You’re home,” he said, his tone expressionless.

  His cool tone and minimal words were typical at this point, but his deep voice still made goosebumps rise on my skin. It was impossible to forget all the things he had ever said to me in tha
t voice—all the flirting, the teasing, the sexy words he’d groaned into my ear when he fucked me. The intense sexual commands he had enjoyed issuing. Commands I had enjoyed following.

  Before we’d stopped touching each other. Before I’d learned the truth about him.

  “What’s this for?” I asked, gesturing toward the bed.

  “That’s what you’ll be wearing tonight,” he said. “We’re leaving in less than an hour. You’ll need to wear your hair up, and minimal makeup. No lipstick.”

  I blinked at him.

  “Wherever you seem to think we’re going, I can’t,” I said flatly. “I have plans.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You do have plans. With me. We’re going to a fundraiser.”

  “What? I never agreed to this,” I sputtered.

  “Don’t act like a child,” he said. “This event has been on your calendar for months.”

  “What is this fundraiser even for?” I asked. Maybe I could go with Stefan to make a brief appearance and then just sneak out early to meet my friends, as I’d intended.

  “It’s a very important, highly publicized event that raises money to fight human trafficking all over the world. KZM is a huge supporter.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Is this your idea of a joke?” If so, it was a sick one.

  The look on his face told me he was dead serious. “All our executives attend every year.”

  “Well then you can attend yourself,” I told him, folding my arms. “I’m not going.”

  He didn’t even blink. “It’s not up for discussion. You will get dressed, fix your hair and makeup, and be ready to walk out the door in—” he checked his watch, “—forty minutes.”

  “Seriously?” I felt hysterical, caught between a sob and a laugh. “You think I’d actually attend a fundraiser for sex trafficking with someone who runs an illegal prostitution ring?”

  Saying the words out loud to Stefan felt good, defiant and strong—but that lasted all of two seconds before he advanced on me, his green eyes cold and intimidating. I shrank back.