by Stella Gray
I’m taken by surprise. Luka’s been paying attention to my feelings? Who is this man?
He looks down and retrieves something from his pocket. I eye him with caution as he opens his hand. A beautiful diamond brooch sits in his palm. The platinum metal is worked into the shape of a sunburst, with a round cluster of diamonds in the center and smaller diamonds trailing down each of the curved rays, with faceted black stones set between each ray.
I gasp. “It’s beautiful.”
He swallows and shifts his weight a little. “It was my mother’s. It’s an antique. This was her favorite for dress-up occasions. I’d like you to wear it for the interview.”
I look up at him. “But it’s a family heirloom,” I say, in awe.
“She’d want you to wear it,” Luka says. “So…will you?”
My hand goes over my heart. “Of course; I’d love to.”
I’m not sure if I should hug him. I don’t want to ruin the moment. Tears prick my eyes and I’m flooded with warmth, even if he’s doing this more for the optics than to calm me.
He doesn’t say anything as he gently turns me toward the mirror and wraps his arms around me to fasten the brooch over the pocket of my dusty rose silk blouse where the material is thick enough to support its weight. It looks absolutely stunning against the fabric.
For a moment we just stand there, the heat of his chest radiating against my back. I can feel my breathing slow, my shoulders start to relax. I’m flooded with a sense of rightness, of belonging—something I’ve been missing ever since we agreed to enter into this relationship. I feel like part of the Zoric family, not just a contractor to it.
“It’s time,” he says, backing up a couple steps and holding his hand out to me.
I take it, letting my husband lead me into the living room where the camera crew has set up their lights and have their cameras perfectly angled. Julia is perched on the edge of our oversized armchair, which she’s angled toward the sofa. Luka has me sit first, and then joins me.
We both smile, but I feel like my face is tighter today. It’s not as easy to plaster on a fake grin. Luka’s hand settles on my thigh and I take it in my own, holding on tight.
It might be hard to smile, but it’s surprisingly easy to take comfort in my husband.
Julia smiles, but it only makes her look more intimidating. “Shall we begin?”
I look at Luka and he nods, so I do, too. Even though we went over the list of questions we might expect, I can’t help worrying that we’re not as prepared as we possibly can be. We were also warned that Julia might stray from the list as the interview progressed, so I can’t help tensing up with nerves. I’m not sure I want to know what “straying” might entail for a reporter this serious, but I know I have to stay focused for Luka’s sake.
Julia starts her introduction after the camera rolls, recapping who we are and what the trafficking scandal was all about, then briefly references the paper she’s holding in her lap.
“I understand that your father’s trial is creating quite a difficult time for your family, and I appreciate you speaking with me today, both of you. Can you tell me, Luka, did you do anything to prepare yourself for the trial?”
He’s poised and confident as he flows into his response, which I know he’s practiced.
“My siblings and I agreed that we should support each other in every sense, but otherwise try to carry on inasmuch as it’s possible—just business as usual. Because we all knew this day was coming, and that it would destroy us if we let it. Honestly, there’s really no way to fully mentally prepare for something like this.”
I add, “We’re just trying to get through it together. One day at a time.”
Julia nods. “Understandable. No matter the crime, I’m sure it’s challenging to watch a parent go on trial. Regardless of whether the charges are accurate or not…”
There’s a pause as if she’s waiting for Luka to fill the space. He doesn’t.
She clears her throat and moves on. “What was your father like when you were growing up? Looking back, was there any indication that he’d be capable of something like this?”
I squeeze Luka’s hand and let out a slow breath. She certainly didn’t wait to get to the dirty details. But Luka doesn’t miss a beat.
“He was always a strict, hard man. Total workaholic, especially after my mother passed. When he was around enough to interact with us kids, he demanded perfection. Showed little emotion. I mean, I guess you could argue that the signs were there. Can I recognize them now, looking back? Not really, to be honest. My siblings and I mostly stayed out of his way. We had a lot of nannies and babysitters, and with his work schedule and our schooling it wasn’t that hard. It’s easy to get away with things when the people closest to you aren’t paying attention.”
I cringe inside. There might have been a jab at me in that statement, but I let it slide. This isn’t about me. Luka’s admission about his father cuts deep. He hasn’t spoken a lot about his dad before, and I never pushed. I figured when the time was right, he’d tell me what he was comfortable having me know. I feel bad that it’s only coming out now, in a TV interview.
“That’s very telling,” Julia says gently. My heart feels heavy for him and I realize he’s squeezing my hand back. “So the implication is that it would be easy for him to keep secrets?”
“Absolutely,” Luka says. “My father was a very powerful man, a very connected man. It was easy for him to do what he wanted without any interference.”
I shoot Luka a sympathetic look, and it’s not just for the cameras. I can’t imagine what it was like growing up in the same house as Konstantin.
“How do you think the agency will pull through all of this?” Julia presses. “You’ve been making big strides in rebranding, creating your own image and even renaming the company after your mother, is that right?”
“Yes. Danica Rose. We hope to move forward and create a legacy she’d be proud of.”
“That’s wonderful,” Julia says with a warm smile. “How is it working out so far?”
“So far, it’s been great.” Luka glances over at me. “We’re showing who we are as an agency. An agency that’s free of my father’s actions and influence. What he did is in no way representative of the Zoric family, or our business. We work hard, we’re committed to doing the right thing, and we truly want our models to feel supported and to succeed. My family and DRM’s employees in no way condone what Konstantin Zoric did. We want no part of him. In fact, our younger sister even founded a non-profit to benefit some of the women he hurt, and we are very proud of the work she’s doing.”
Julia’s nodding, and she looks down at her notes again before turning to me.
“Brooklyn, what has all of this been like for you—not just signing on with the agency, but with respect to your marriage into the family—in the midst of all the fallout?”
I have the urge to shift in my seat, but I stay still and lift my chin.
“The media response has been a little overwhelming, but I never doubted Luka’s sincerity when he told me that neither he nor his family had anything to do with his father’s illicit activities. I trusted my heart, both when I signed on with DRM and then later, when Luka proposed. My heart hasn’t let me down. I know I’ve made the right choices.”
That was sugary sweet, but I meant it.
She smiles, and I can’t tell if it’s because she believes me or she’s trying not to throw up.
“And how has your marriage helped you through this, Luka?” she asks next.
My hairline tingles at what he might say. He needs to make us look good, and he will—but nothing that he says will be truthful. Not after what I did to him. Still, there’s a softness in his expression when he catches my gaze that I can’t fully discount.
“All the lies and secrets of my father have taught me the importance of having open and honest relationships in your life, and I just thank God for my wife, for teaching me how,” he tells Julia, glancing over at me ag
ain.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing, and his reference to honesty can’t possibly apply to me, but at the same time I’m eating up every word. Judging by the way the journalist is leaning forward in her seat, brows knit together with compassion, it seems like she is too.
Luka continues, “I wasn’t raised to be vulnerable. My father saw emotions as signs of weakness, but Brooklyn has taught me that they’re actually tools to navigate relationships with.”
There’s so much sincerity in Luka’s voice, his answers ringing true. He’s clearly been through hell with his father. He’s never had a soft place to land…until me.
And I messed it all up.
I want him to have that again, though. More than ever.
As I smile and nod along, it takes all my willpower to fight back tears. Why am I so affected by this? Why do I have such a strong instinct to take him in my arms and tell him I’ll always be there for him, that he’s safe with me, that I’ll never hurt him again?
And then it hits me. My feelings for Luka aren’t just about lust or living up the good times or simply relying on the fact that you have someone to come home to. It’s so much more than that.
It’s true love.
Brooklyn
Chapter 15
After Julia bids us farewell and the camera crew packs up and leaves, Luka tries to escape to his bedroom. For a moment, I consider just letting him hide out for a while. But I can’t stand the thought of him being all by himself after he just poured out his heart in that interview.
He needs me, even if he won’t admit it. This trial is destroying him. I’m glad I never met his father. I can’t keep away the mental images of a young Luka, wondering when his dad will be home, hoping for some love and attention but getting nothing but neglect and harsh words and ridicule. No wonder he has so many walls up. He had to learn how to protect his heart.
It also explains why it’s so hard for him to trust people. I hate that I betrayed that trust.
“Hey,” I call out to him as he heads down the hall. He pauses to look back at me. “Can we talk for a minute?”
His expression is guarded. “About what?”
“I…” Now that we’re here alone, I struggle to find the right words to say. My hand flies to the brooch he pinned on me. “I wanted to give this back.”
As I fumble with the clasp, he moves closer, stopping me with his hand over mine.
“Keep it,” he says. “Please.”
I’m speechless for a beat, my eyes locked on his. He means it, I can tell.
Finally, my voice husky with emotion, I tell him, “Thank you. I’m honored.”
He nods and turns to leave again.
“Wait,” I say, tugging him gently toward me. “What you said before, in the interview. About me helping you navigate a little better. Did you mean it?”
His eyes flick to mine. “Yes.”
It feels like I’m moving in slow motion as I gently take his hand. “Luka. Let me help you through this. You don’t have to be alone right now.”
He shakes his head like he’s going to blow me off. But I’m not giving up. I move closer.
“You’re hurting.”
“I’m not.”
I refuse to let him hide. “But you are. And no matter what your father told you or made you believe when you were growing up, hurting inside does not make you weak. It makes you human. And sharing that hurt means you’re strong enough to admit you need a change.”
“Sure. I know.” He smiles like he doesn’t believe it, though.
Shaking my head, I add quietly, “Your father’s voice is still loud in your head. But you’re not a child anymore. It’s time to stop listening to it. When something doesn’t serve us, when it’s holding us back, we have to let it go.”
He won’t look at me, but I know I’ve gotten to him.
“It’s not that easy,” he says, his voice softer now.
I believe him. I’m sure after so many years of hearing the same thing, it’s hard to tell himself it was all a lie. But I know I can make it better. I slide my hands up his arms and hold on to his biceps as I lean my head against his chest, breathing in and out slowly. At first he stiffens as if he doesn’t know what to do. Standing on tiptoe, I lightly kiss the side of his neck. I kiss him again and again, making a little trail until he relaxes completely in my embrace.
“Let me take care of you, Luka,” I whisper. “Take all that hurt and anger out on my body. I’m yours. I want to make you feel good.”
Cupping my face in his hands, he places a soft, slow kiss on my lips. My knees actually go weak, and I lose my breath. He’s never kissed me so sweetly before. Gripping his arms tighter, I sigh into his mouth as he slides his tongue against mine. He’s giving in, but not the way I thought he would. His mouth moves like velvet, taking and giving with soft presses and long, tender draws. I thought he would use me, toss me on the couch and fuck me until he passed out.
Instead, he’s being gentle.
I’m not sure how to react to this side of him, but my heart does. It aches in my chest, wanting him to feel the same way for me as I secretly do for him. I want Luka to love me back.
He devours my lips until I’m kiss-drunk. My body is coming to life, but slowly, agonizingly slowly. It’s as if my libido wants to take its sweet time, too, and enjoy the ride. Pulling my hair to tug my head back, Luka plants hot kisses over my throat and back up to my lips. I’m panting now, my fingers kneading his arms that I want to feel around me so badly.
“Come with me,” he says as he takes my hand. It only takes a second to realize that he’s taking me toward his room. Pushing the door open with one foot, he spins me inside and kicks the door closed. We reach for each other and he ends up with his back to the bed.
I push him backward until he’s sitting on the mattress. He leans all the way back, pulling me down with him. His hands caress my sides as I straddle him and bend low to kiss his neck. His skin is warm and flushed as I press my lips lower, kissing his collarbone and chest as I start to unbutton his shirt. He groans lightly and it spurs my desire to make him feel good. To show him the love in my heart. I can’t verbalize it, so I need my body to do the talking.
I finish up with the buttons on his shirt, urgency flaming up in me because I want him so badly, but I force myself to keep going slow. I want this to last. He’s never been so pliable beneath my hands, so willing to let me explore him at my leisure. He sits up halfway to tug his shirt off and I help him shrug out of it and toss it to the floor.
My breath catches at the sight of his sculpted chest and tight abs. His skin is smooth and well-muscled beneath my fingers, and when I brush over one of his nipples it hardens under my touch. I move to take the little peak between my lips. He inhales with a sharp intake of breath, his hands cupping my shoulders as I kiss my way toward the other one and take it in my mouth.
I love the way he shudders while I work my lips over his bare skin, ambling along as I taste every part of him. His hands wind around my head, loosening my hair from its braid, and then run through it until it falls in a cascade over my shoulders. Lightly, he drags his nails up and down my bare arms until I have goosebumps everywhere.
Working my mouth down, I tug at his belt until it comes free. In a few swift moves, I have his pants off and I let them slide to the floor. He toes off his socks and my heart pumps at the sight of my husband naked and sprawled out for me on the massive bed. He’s the centerpiece, just waiting for me to enjoy him. And oh, how I intend to.
I crawl up the bed toward him, hungry with desire that jacks up as I appreciate the spear of his cock between the strength of his thighs. Flicking my gaze to his, I lick my lips and start to lower my head. But Luka groans, and before I can open my mouth, he flips me onto my back and hovers over me with obvious need in his eyes.
“It’s my turn,” he says with a dark undertone that makes my insides tremble.
“But I want to make you feel good,” I protest. After all, I’m supposed to be ta
king his pain away.
He draws a finger along my jaw. “You have. You’ll never know how much.”
I go still everywhere except my ever-hopeful heart, which picks up speed as our eyes lock. Taking his face between my hands, I bring him down to meet my lips. We kiss slowly, his mouth urging mine open, his tongue stroking mine as he deepens the connection. Arching up, I press into him as he begins to feast on my mouth with a combination of hunger and sweetness. He kisses me almost reverently until I can’t think. My mind spins as my lust grows. I want him more than I ever have. Every inch of me is strung tight.
Luka begins to undress me, taking his time removing the brooch and then slowly working open the buttons of my silk shirt. He sits back, watching my tanned, olive skin appear with the pop of each button. Each time more skin is exposed, he lightly runs a finger over my flesh. My nipples pebble inside my bra and I arch with the urgency to have him strip me bare.
Finally, he tugs my shirt slowly down my arms. His touch is exquisitely tender as he kisses along my collarbone and over the rise of my breasts.
“Luka,” I say softly and dig my fingers into his hair.
He grins down at me as he pulls one bra strap down, then the other, letting them flutter there against my biceps as he cups my breasts in his hands. I jerk at the sensation as his thumbs caress my nipples. At long last he urges me up so he can unclasp my bra and take it off. Then he kneads my bare breasts, teasing my nipples with his rough thumbs until I feel like I’m going to come out of my skin. Just when I don’t think I can take any more, he soothes them with his warm lips, tugging and sucking until all I can do is moan his name, over and over.
My pussy is so wet I can feel the moisture dampening my thighs. I need him to touch me there. He moves up to kiss me again while one hand slides down my body, his fingertips drawing lines of heat as they rake over my abdomen and tug off my underwear.
I tense with anticipation as his fingers smooth between my legs, down and back up, lighting me up with little sparks of electricity. Spreading my thighs, I jut my hips up, seeking more. He gives me what I want a moment later as he spreads my pussy lips and begins running the pad of one finger around my clit.
