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The Secret

Page 5

by Stella Gray


  “You will do as I say. You will wear exactly what I tell you to wear, and attend any and all events that I schedule for you,” he commanded. “My father is watching us, so put on a good performance tonight and pretend you’re on the right team. You have no other choice.”

  Even though I could feel my knees shaking, I forced myself to meet his gaze. I knew he’d already won. I hated it, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. And when it came to what Konstantin Zoric was capable of, I knew better than to cross the man. As much as I hated this whole situation, I did believe that Stefan truly was trying to keep me safe—and alive.

  I just felt so defeated. It had been hard enough to come to terms with who my husband was when I was dealing with it in private. When I could focus on school and friends and pretend that this all wasn’t happening, that I hadn’t been betrayed by my family. Both of my families. But now I had to go out in public with Stefan. With his family. To a sham of a fundraiser like this. It felt like they were rubbing it in my face, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

  “Never forget who you are,” he warned, standing so close I could feel his body heat.

  It was completely different from how I felt when Gavin was next to me. My friend was warm, comforting, but…right now I could feel Stefan’s anger, his passion, his intensity. It scared me, but it also turned me on. I wish it were different, or that the men in my life were reversed.

  “You are my wife,” he reminded me. “You will do your duty. You will fulfill your responsibilities. And you will obey. That is the bargain we made.”

  It was. But it was a bargain I never would have agreed to if I had known the truth.

  “Forty minutes. No lipstick.”

  With that he left the room, slamming the door behind him. I sank down on the bed, my knees no longer able to hold me. Warring emotions flooded through me. Anger, frustration, desire. And desire, both emotional and sexual, that never seemed to stop burning deep inside me.

  What would I have done if Stefan had kissed me? Would I have kissed him back?

  I didn’t know. I didn’t know myself around him anymore.

  I looked at the dress I was expected to wear, running my hands over the silky fabric. Next to the dress was a bag I hadn’t noticed before, from an expensive lingerie shop. He had even chosen what was I supposed to wear underneath the dress. Typical of his controlling nature.

  Opening the bag, I found a gorgeous pair of underwear, a web of delicate lace and satin that would be invisible underneath the dress. There was also a backless, adhesive bra with ribbon laces down the middle. It looked like a set of angel’s wings. I had never seen anything like it.

  I rubbed the fine lace of the panties, the satin like water against my fingertips. Stefan had picked these out specifically for me. I tried in vain to banish my sexy thoughts.

  Even though I was furious at my husband, I was smart enough to accept that this was a role I would have to play. I texted Gavin to say I couldn’t make it due to a scheduling conflict, promising a raincheck soon, and began getting ready. This was my life right now. I had to play the part until I could figure out an alternative.

  The clock was ticking. I undressed, pulling on my robe before quickly doing my hair (in a demure twist, as commanded) and makeup, keeping it as subtle as possible. Then I put on the lingerie. The bra felt like nothing at all, the lace giving my cleavage an unexpected lift, and the panties were just as weightless—and undeniable sexy. I couldn’t help wondering if Stefan would be thinking about the lingerie he’d bought me, hugging me under my dress all night.

  And I couldn’t help wishing that at the end of the evening, he’d be the one taking it off.

  Tori

  Chapter 5

  “Take on meee…” Luka was singing in a corner, getting increasingly louder even amid the din of the lavish hotel ballroom. “Take me ooon…”

  This fundraiser was a train wreck. Not necessarily in terms of raising the intended funds, since it seemed to be packed full of wealthy, influential people who were clearly happy to throw money at a problem rather than actually thinking about it. But Stefan’s family seemed to be imploding in a very public way—or at least, Luka was.

  I had spotted him quickly after we arrived, slouching by the open bar serving wine and a few types of classy but small-sized cocktails. But he must have thrown back a lot of them, because he was clearly drunk. Very, very drunk. And with no sign of Stefan or Konstantin in the immediate area, I knew it was up to me to do damage control.

  As I made my way toward the bar, I consciously forced a relaxed smile onto my face. Stefan had not uttered a single word to me before we’d left the condo, barely even glancing my way when I came out of the guest bedroom dressed exactly as he had ordered from hair to heels. It was typical of him lately, but I still felt disappointed—and upset that I’d had to cancel my plans with Gavin and my girlfriends. I hadn’t even told Stefan about my A. Not that he’d care.

  “Luka,” I said, taking his arm and adopting a soothing tone as I interrupted his singing. “Maybe we should go get some air. It’s getting a little hot in here, isn’t it?”

  I glanced around. Nobody seemed to be taking much of an interest in my brother-in-law, but I’d noticed a few people looking his way when he’d started singing and I was hoping to convince him to leave quietly. Maybe the air outside would do him some good, sober him up enough to come back to the party and go through the motions along with the rest of the Zorics.

  “You wanna drink, Tor?” he asked, flipping open his blazer to reveal the flask bulging from the inside pocket. “I brought my own. Iss’ always all bougie wine here, you know?”

  I felt my smile grow tighter. “I don’t drink, Luka. Not in public, at least. I’m still only eighteen.” But oh, how I wished I could. It’d certainly make the night easier.

  “Seen you drink at home,” he argued. “C’mon, take it. No one’s looking.” He tried to pass the flask, but I took a step back, worried someone would see and it’d be all over the news. “Zorics know how to keep secrets, didn’t you know? We’re professionals at hiding things.”

  Despite Luka’s slurring, his words were sharp. It was obvious to me that he was still angry and bitter in the wake of his own recent revelations about KZ Modeling’s covert activities. I could hardly blame him. My brother-in-law may have been a little spoiled, a player and a partier, but up until a few weeks ago he’d had no idea that his father was a glorified pimp.

  If only my husband cared as much. But then, he’d known all along.

  “Let’s step out for a minute,” I suggested again.

  “What for? Is my little sis not enjoying the rager? Iss’ kinda dull for me, too.”

  “I think I need a short break, is all,” I said, looping my arm through Luka’s. “Come on.”

  But just then a fur-wrapped older woman with huge diamond earrings hobbled over and placed a hand on Luka’s shoulder. “You’re Luka Zoric,” she cooed with a huge smile. “Gosh, don’t you look just like your father! And what fabulous contributions he’s made this year.”

  “You have no idea what my father has contributed to human trafficking,” Luka said. Then he started giggling. Loudly. “No idea at all!”

  The woman looked confused, and taken aback.

  I cleared my throat and intervened as best I could. “I’m so sorry, but my brother-in-law here has a touch of the flu tonight. He’s not feeling like himself.” She immediately murmured her understanding, stepping back. “I’m going to find us a quiet corner now, if you’ll excuse us.”

  But he refused to be herded away, ordering from the bar even as I tugged him toward the exit. I could smell the liquor rolling off him. The last thing he needed was another drink.

  “Luka, please,” I begged.

  His sloppy grin turned into a tense scowl, and I followed his gaze across the room and saw his father, Konstantin, schmoozing up a group of men in suits. All of them were laughing.

  “Victoria, we have a number of other gue
sts to speak with,” a cold voice commanded from behind us. I whirled to find Stefan standing there, glaring between his brother and me.

  “But Luka—” I protested.

  “Is an adult who can handle himself,” Stefan cut me off, detaching my grip from Luka. “I suggest you get yourself in line, brother,” he said quietly, his voice like steel. “You look sloppy.”

  “You don’t like my tie?” Luka slurred, lifting it up for inspection. “It’s a Ferragamo.”

  Stefan grabbed the tie, pulling Luka close. “This is a PR event, not a frat party. Get your act together. And you can start by going to the men’s room to freshen up. You’re a mess.”

  I watched them stare each other down, until Luka shook his head and stormed off.

  Stefan said nothing more, steering me firmly toward a sophisticated-looking couple who were holding court and surrounded by others of their ilk. Obviously my husband was more concerned with keeping up appearances and impressing people than taking care of his brother.

  This wasn’t the attention I’d been hoping for. Stefan had ignored me in the car on the way over, hadn’t even touched me until we arrived at the fundraiser, which was being held at one of the five-star hotels that the Zoric family was connected to. The moment we pulled up to the curb, where there were a crowd of reporters and photographers, Stefan’s entire demeanor had changed. At that moment he’d put a toothpaste ad of a smile on his face and taken my arm.

  I’d gritted my teeth and played along, feeling betrayed at the way my pulse still leapt at his touch. The way it was doing again right now.

  “Try to look like you’re having a good time,” Stefan hissed under his breath.

  I heard the threat in his words so I whipped out my well-practiced public smile. No doubt there would be pictures of us splashed all over the news tomorrow, the happy, glamorous couple, working the room like pros at this laudable and worthwhile charity event.

  Stefan kept a firm grip on my arm as we made our way around the ballroom. But as he chatted up yet another older white businessman and his dolled-up Stepford wife, I felt his body stiffen almost imperceptibly next to mine. I looked up to find his father, Konstantin, stalking over in his signature monochromatic grey. Like a black cloud bearing down on us.

  My stomach dropped. Konstantin was the last person I wanted to interact with right now. But I could sense Stefan already turning us toward the man, so I put that fake smile back on my face and waited for my father-in-law to reach us.

  “Stefan,” he said, nodding his head at his oldest son before giving me a long, lecherous once-over. He didn’t even bother to properly greet me before turning his attention back to my husband. “Your brother is passed out drunk in the men’s room.”

  “I sent him in there to sober up,” Stefan said. “Clearly he failed to do so.”

  “No matter. Send him home,” Konstantin ordered. Stefan responded with a curt nod.

  I felt fury rise inside of me. I’d never thought I’d side with Luka over anything, but his drunken misbehavior seemed like a perfectly appropriate reaction to the hypocrisy that we were all participating in. Who would have guessed that my husband’s womanizing, arrogant, inappropriately behaved younger brother would have a stronger grip on morality than Stefan?

  Konstantin walked off, probably to hobnob with some more rich people with shady ethics. I turned to Stefan, angry beyond belief. Wasn’t he supposed to be the good guy? Wasn’t he supposed to protect his brother? Instead, he was just doing whatever his father told him to do.

  “Better run off in a hurry now and do what daddy says,” I said, smiling all along so that anyone looking at us would think we were having a pleasant conversation. “And while you’re at it, don’t forget to write a check to support this organization. An organization that would give anything to shut you and your father down. How many zeros will you add to this check to assuage your guilt, by the way? I’m a little fuzzy on the cost of a clean conscience these days.”

  Stefan leveled an ice-cold look in my direction.

  “Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

  “Trust me, I understand perfectly. I understand that you’ll go to work tomorrow, probably starting your day off with a blowjob from one of these poor, exploited women, before sending them off on a “job” to service the next well-paying gentleman. Oh, but how silly of me. You don’t have to pay.”

  “Stop,” Stefan ordered, his grip tightening until it started to actually hurt.

  But I wouldn’t stop. “Do the models even know you’re all here?” I goaded him. “Hiding behind your filthy donations? Rubbing elbows with Chicago’s elite while you eat fucking hors d’oeuvres and pretend to actually give a shit about their welfare?”

  “You have no idea what I’m trying to do here,” Stefan said, leading me to a corner.

  “You’re a hypocrite,” I hissed. “Do the women working for KZM have any idea that you’re spending the money they earned on a fundraiser that’s ostensibly for them? A fundraiser that will never be able to help them because you and your family are fucking liars?”

  “Shut. Your. Mouth.” His eyes flicked around the room, but I didn’t care who saw us.

  “Is that what you tell your girls?” I taunted. “Nah, it’s the opposite. Open wider, right?”

  Stefan swung me around and pressed me hard against the wall so I had nowhere to look but up at him. His eyes burned with fury, his fingers still gripping my bicep hard.

  “If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll shut it for you.” His voice was threatening, but low enough that only I could hear it. “I’ll push you down on your knees and force my cock down your throat. You won’t be able to say one more word while I’m fucking your mouth—while everyone sees that you’re just as much of a whore as the women benefiting from this charity.”

  His words were coarse. Disgusting. Unbelievably cruel. But somehow, it was hot anyway.

  “Don’t you have enough women’s mouths to enjoy?” I spat back at him, clinging to my rage in self-defense.

  He laughed. “Jealous, are we? And here I thought your own mouth was too busy with your little friend’s cock for you to even think about mine. What’s his name? Gavin, isn’t it? You two having a lot of fun these days?”

  My pulse pounded in my ears. So he knew about Gavin. Not only that, but he knew and he didn’t care. He was making jokes about us.

  The truth stung more than I thought it would. Would I ever stop being disappointed by Stefan? By this sham of a marriage we shared?

  “For a senator’s daughter, you’ve been shockingly indiscreet,” he went on. “In fact—”

  “Tori?”

  I looked up and my lips stretched into a huge, genuine grin as I saw Grace Toussaint, my former SAT study partner and private high school bff, beelining toward us with her signature curls bouncing wildly around her expressive face.

  “Look at you two little lovebirds,” she squealed, giving Stefan a brief side hug before throwing her arms around me and squeezing. “I thought I’d die of boredom tonight. My parents donated like a million dollars to this charity and then didn’t even want to come. So here I am.”

  “We’re so glad you’re here,” Stefan said. “We haven’t seen you since the wedding.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “I’ve been so busy learning all about my parents’ company and taking online courses in business. I’m starting to think I should have taken a gap year in the Mediterranean and partied instead of trying to jump into all this work training stuff. It’s not just all about purses and belts and leather samples, you know? Running a business is hard.”

  “Very true,” Stefan agreed warmly. As if we hadn’t just been in a tense, ugly fight.

  Grace smiled again, and I gestured at her bag, leaning into the pleasant distraction.

  “Is that one of your designs?” It had a vintage vibe, almost like one of those buckled train cases that women used in the 1950s.

  “Yes!” she said, glowing with pride. “My parents are lett
ing me develop a line on my own, but it won’t be out until next year. This is just a prototype. Tres chic, don’t you think?”

  I nodded. “If this is any indication of what you’re capable of, you’re going to do great.”

  “Thank you,” Grace said, her cheeks going a little pink. “I’ve hardly had time for anything but the whole “handbag empire” thing. When can we get coffee? Just us two.”

  Stefan was polite enough to drift away and give us some space to chat, but he was still close enough that I couldn’t have managed much beyond small talk even if I’d wanted to tell Grace how bad things had gotten with my marriage, which I didn’t. Soon enough, Stefan pulled me away to mingle more, leaving me and Grace promising each other we’d hang out soon and catch up. But I wasn’t sure we really would. The situation was too complicated, too horrible, and too dangerous to share with anyone, even one of my oldest friends. It made me even angrier. Even more determined to find a way out of this mess.

  I spent the rest of the evening at the fundraiser biting my tongue and plastering a smile across my face that grew more and more forced the more people we encountered. Especially the women, who were more than happy to drape themselves over Stefan, fawning over him for being such a “strong supporter of this wonderful cause.” The whole thing made me sick. Especially the way that Stefan would respond to them.

  They got the full extent of his charm. They got the smooth, charismatic man who had once convinced me to marry him the first night we met. A man who smiled and doled out compliments like roses. A man who made them laugh and smile and blush.

  And all the while his wife stood at his side, a well-mannered, modest statue.

  I began counting down the minutes until midnight, when the event was over. As if I was Cinderella, waiting for the ball to end. Ready to leave Prince Charming behind to charm his next princess. Because I knew it wasn’t me. I knew Stefan didn’t care for me, or anyone else but himself and his family and his company and his money. That was all that mattered to him.

 

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