The Choice

by Stella Gray

  As nervous as I was, my mouth still watered at the sight of all the fancy European cheeses, the split figs with golden honey, the spiced almonds and green olives and prosciutto. There was even caviar and tiny pickles. And that was just the appetizer. I could have easily made a whole meal out of it.

  “This looks incredible,” I told Gretna as she fussed with the table settings one last time. “I feel like you’re our fairy godmother. I can’t thank you enough.”

  She only grinned and flashed me a wink, passing me a rolled-up slice of paper-thin prosciutto she’d speared with a toothpick. It tasted like heaven.

  The doorbell rang and I almost jumped out of my skin. Stefan came over to take my hand, sending one of the staff to get the door. In his Armani suit, he looked good enough to eat.

  “We’re in control,” he soothed me. “This is our home, and this dinner is on our terms.”

  “I know,” I said, nodding, though I was well aware that my father-in-law would probably still do whatever he could to maintain the upper hand.

  I wondered if Konstantin had any idea what he was up against. Stefan had always been careful around his father, doing his best to get along with the man and feigning compliance and tractability. They’d had arguments in the past, sure, but I had a feeling my father-in-law would be truly shocked to discover what his son was capable of if pushed too far.

  And I was pretty sure Stefan—thanks to his father’s threats to me and our marriage—had finally been pushed too far. Tonight he was going to let Konstantin know, in no uncertain terms, that we were a team and that nothing could come between us.

  Suddenly a squeal pierced the air and as I turned around, a set of perfumed arms had flung themselves around me. “Emzee,” I said, smiling so big my cheeks hurt.

  “I’m so glad you’re back!” she told me, squeezing me tight.

  I hugged her back. “I’m so glad you got here first,” I said.

  “Don’t be nervous. I’m on your team,” she said, flashing a confident grin.

  Besides Stefan, she was the one member of the family I loved and trusted completely.

  “Ooh, I spy green olives and cornichons with my name on them. Can we sit?” she asked.

  We settled down at the table with Stefan and chatted a little bit about how she was doing, my stomach clenching when the doorbell soon rang again. This time it was Luka. He walked in, looking as handsome as always, but a little rumpled and unsteady on his feet.

  “Dear brother, you are clearly intoxicated,” Emzee scolded, but she said it teasingly. She pushed away from the table and ran over to hug him.

  His pregaming certainly didn’t stop him from heading straight to the bar and pouring himself another drink, though Emzee followed and tried—unsuccessfully—to take it away.

  “It’s fine,” Stefan said. “As long as he behaves himself.”

  Luka just laughed and took a seat.

  I wasn’t the biggest fan of my brother-in-law, but I thought I could understand why he drank like he did. If Konstantin was my father, I’d probably have a drinking problem too.

  Konstantin and Anja were the last to arrive, and they came together. Part of me had almost expected Konstantin to disregard Stefan’s request that Max stay home and bring the boy along anyway, if for no other reason than to assert that he, as the family patriarch, was the Zoric in charge around here. I was glad to see that he had actually honored Stefan’s wishes. Maybe it was a sign that he was interested in diplomacy after all.

  Anja, as a former model, looked predictably flawless, wearing a black dress that swirled over the floor as she walked, the neckline featuring a daring slit that was cut so low it hit her sternum, but was so narrow that there was no cleavage visible.

  “That dress is incredible,” I told her warmly. “You look great.” And I meant it. Seeing her up close again was actually a lot less stressful than I had imagined. Now that I knew where I stood with Stefan, and we had renewed our vows to each other, I had nothing to fear from her.

  “So do you,” Anja replied, but I noticed that her eyes slid away from me and locked on Stefan. Well, she could look all she wanted. He was still mine.

  Meanwhile Konstantin was talking to Luka and Stefan, and completely ignoring me.

  “Hello, Konstantin,” I said, trying to take the high road.

  My father-in-law waved irritably in my direction, as if my greeting was a fly to shoo.

  Anja shot me a sympathetic look and my heart softened toward her a little more. Who knew what she’d been through over the past years, with only Konstantin as her resource and a son to raise all on her own? That was a fate I wouldn’t wish on anyone.

  With Konstantin’s arrival, the mood in the condo had gotten noticeably more tense, so I suggested that we all sit down and eat. We took our seats, chatting idly over the cheese plate until the staff cleared it away and brought out the real food.

  Gretna and I had chosen a menu of impeccably prepared comfort food, hoping it would make the meal more harmonious than something overly complicated, so there was beautiful Kobe steak with garlic butter, grilled lobster tails sliced on the bias, potato gratin with truffles, and a light salad made with shaved autumn vegetables. I knew for a fact that everything was cooked to perfection—thanks to the taste test that Gretna had insisted I perform—yet despite the enjoyment our guests were getting out of the meal, an anxious mood had settled over the table. As if we were all waiting for a bomb to explode.

  I glanced over at Stefan. He was watching his father.

  Following his eye line, I watched Konstantin talk loudly at Anja about the benefits of boarding school for children, gesturing almost violently with his steak knife. She was giving him a polite smile as she delicately ate her truffled potatoes, clearly leaning away from him. Emzee seemed okay enough, but Luka had pushed his untouched plate away and was leaning back in his chair, brooding over what appeared to be his second glass of whiskey.

  The whole scene was tense and awkward, but I had no idea what to do. Interrupting Konstantin wouldn’t earn me any brownie points, though I was dying to redirect the conversation to something less fraught, something we could all participate in. As I wracked my brain for safe topics, I felt Stefan’s warm hand squeeze my thigh under the table. And then—

  Clink clink clink—he was tapping his knife against the side of his wine glass, signaling for quiet.

  The room, already fairly subdued, went silent…except for Konstantin, who was still talking to Anja. Her gaze shifted between father and son, and then she cleared her throat.

  “I believe Stefan would like to speak,” I said, flashing her a tiny smile.

  Konstantin grumbled, but finally shut up. I was sure he’d heard the tapping, but was trying to maintain control over the situation. Just as I had expected.

  “If you’ll just give me a moment to say something to everyone,” Stefan said, standing. His voice was strong and sure, and he took his time making eye contact with each person at the table. “I’d like to raise a toast to our family. The Zorics. To the empire we’ve built.”

  Everyone raised their glasses, though Emzee and I exchanged slightly confused looks. This wasn’t what Stefan had told me he was going to say.

  “I also wanted to share how grateful I am that Anja has returned safe and sound, and with our amazing son.”

  “He’s a great kid,” Emzee murmured sweetly.

  Anja brightened at their words, but then gave me a cautious look. I tried to keep my own expression neutral at this point, not knowing what was going to happen next.

  Stefan nodded. “Her reappearance came as a great surprise to most of us,” he said, looking pointedly at his father, who sipped his drink with a smug little smile on his face. “But now that we’ve all had a chance to process the news of her return—and the arrival of Max—I trust that they will both be welcomed into the family with open arms.”

  “Of course! They already have been,” Konstantin blustered, looking thrilled, but I could tell that Stefan wasn’t do
ne yet.

  “However,” my husband continued, “the reason I invited you all here was to make something very clear. Something I would have stated earlier had I known there would be any possibility of confusion.” He reached out and took my hand, pulling me up beside him. “Tori is my wife. I am devoted to her, and our marriage, first and foremost. I have never wavered in that.” He speared his father with a look. “And I will cut off anyone who tries to tear us apart.”

  You could have heard a pin drop.

  Everyone was staring at Stefan, myself included. I knew that he’d planned to set boundaries with his family once and for all, but I hadn’t imagined he would do it so forcefully or explicitly. He had chosen me, now and forever. And had made it abundantly clear, in no uncertain terms. To Anja and all the Zorics. Even—and maybe especially—Konstantin.

  Emotions washed over me and I lifted my chin, forcing back the tears that threatened.

  But it was no use. My vision blurred, my chest tightened, and I murmured an “excuse me” and fled the table. The last thing I wanted was to cry in front of Anja and my father-in-law. I went into the bedroom and closed the door, utterly choked up by Stefan’s announcement.

  I heard footsteps in the hallway, and I turned to find Stefan rushing through the door, pulling me toward him, his face beautifully concerned at the tears spilling from my eyes.

  “What did I do?” he asked. “Was that not okay? I didn’t mean to upset you, Tori.”

  He was stroking the back of my neck, holding me tightly against his chest, and I nearly burst into fresh tears at how worried he sounded.

  “I’m not upset,” I said, pulling back to look up at him. “That was perfect. You were perfect. I just got overwhelmed.”

  “By your overpowering love for me?” he teased.

  I laughed. “Actually, yes.”

  “I love you too,” he said. He smiled, and I smiled back. “You think you can handle going back out there, or should I cover for you?”

  “I want to go back out. I just need a minute,” I said. My makeup was probably a mess.

  I dashed into the bathroom and dabbed at my wet lashes with a few folded tissues, giving my mascara a quick refresh before heading back out to Stefan.

  “How do I look?” I asked.

  “Stunning, as always,” he said, and then pulled me in for a deep, slow kiss.

  Together, we went back into the dining room, ready to face his family as man and wife.

  Stefan

  Chapter 18

  Back at the table, in the aftermath of my declaration, I suddenly realized how good I felt about what I’d said. Better than good, actually. A huge weight was off my shoulders. Reasserting control over my life gave me strength and validation. Power. I’d stated my loyalties resolutely and definitively; now the people closest to me could either support my decision—and my marriage—or stay the fuck out of my way. It was a win-win. Tori and I were officially done making space in our lives for anyone trying to undermine or oppose us.

  Refilling Tori’s wine glass, I glanced around at our guests, trying to gauge their reactions to my announcement.

  My wife, of course, had been surprised and moved. It was clear by her tears and the moment we’d shared in the bedroom that I’d done right by her. Meanwhile my father had a scowl on his face as he took out his obvious displeasure on his food, shoveling it in, and my sister, the one person at the table who seemed to care for Tori almost as much as I did, was smiling broadly at the two of us as she talked animatedly about her upcoming photography work.

  I grinned back at her, happy she was here, bolstered by the knowledge that Emzee was on our team—always had been and always would be.

  My brother Luka was staring off into the middle distance with a tumbler of my most expensive whiskey in his hand, undeniably drunk, but that was par for the course for him these days. I watched him drain the rest of the glass and then nearly stab himself with his razor-sharp knife as he tried to cut a piece of steak on his plate. It might have been humorous if he wasn’t such a mess. I made a mental note to look into rehab centers…though I knew convincing my brother to check into one would be the bigger challenge.

  And finally, Anja projected an air of obvious discomfort. She was barely eating, picking at her dinner and avoiding eye contact as she forced a smile to go along with Emzee’s happy chatter. If anything, she looked ashamed. I was positive now that she wasn’t a villain like my father. She was just a single mom trying to do her best with a hard life, who’d gotten drawn into a situation that in many ways was beyond her control. I’d make sure, no matter what happened, that she and Max were taken care of. That they weren’t my father’s prisoners and playthings.

  Gretna and another staff member bustled in to clear our plates and serve dessert, which consisted of poached pears and white chocolate mousse with an elaborate spun sugar decoration perched on top. As I looked closer, I realized the sugar seemed to be dusted with gold flakes.

  “Bon appétit,” Gretna said, bowing a little before leaving the room in her black dress and starched apron.

  “Thank you, Gretna,” I called out after her.

  I had to stifle a smile—I never made our personal chef wear a uniform, or stick around to serve us. She was merely playing a part tonight, and clearly enjoying the chance to lay it on a little thick, although I hadn’t specifically asked her to do so.

  What I had made clear to Tori and the staff, however, was that tonight was meant to be a demonstration of wealth and power. It was the only language my father understood. I wanted him to see that I wouldn’t be controlled or threatened by him. That I was confident enough in my ability to maintain my privilege that I could afford this kind of lavish spending.

  Of course, my father was more than done playing second fiddle at this point. Ignoring the artfully constructed dessert, he threw his napkin down and pushed back from the table.

  “We’re leaving,” he said, snapping his fingers at Anja.

  She obeyed his order immediately, jumping to her feet and going to get her coat. I wasn’t sorry to see my father go, but I couldn’t stand the way he was treating Anja. Especially since he had claimed that he viewed her and Max as part of the Zoric family. How quickly her value had plummeted in my father’s eyes, now that I’d reasserted my commitment to Tori.

  “Thank you both so much for coming,” Tori said, rising to follow them to the foyer and escort them out. I knew it was rude not to join my wife in seeing our guests off, but I’d had enough of my father’s pouting. He could stew for all I cared.

  The front door slammed, and Luka jumped a little in his seat.

  “That went well,” Emzee said sarcastically from across the table.

  “As well as could be expected,” I pointed out as Tori came back and sat down again.

  Tori smiled at Emzee and Luka and said, “Glad you’re both still here,” though I was pretty sure the comment was directed solely at my sister.

  “Of course! Couldn’t let any of this dessert go to waste,” Emzee said, reaching over to slide Konstantin’s untouched dish toward her. “This mousse is a dream.”

  The whole room seemed to have stopped holding its breath now that my father was gone. And Tori seemed more relaxed and glowing as well. I was so impressed with her. She’d kept her head high and managed to treat my father in a distant but polite way throughout the entire meal, despite her nerves and the fact that he’d never been kind to her. It took a lot of strength.

  As Emzee dove back into her descriptions of the assignment she’d soon be shooting in the indigenous forests of South America, Luka quietly eased out of his chair and half-walked, half-stumbled to the bar in the adjoining living room.

  Tori reached over and put a hand on my arm.

  “He’s so drunk already,” she whispered. I could hear the worry in her tone.

  I nodded, already rising from my seat. Even though my younger brother was an adult, I still felt responsible for him. Still felt as though I needed to take care of him, to prote
ct him from the world. My father certainly never had. And as much as I disapproved of Luka’s self-medicating and destructive behavior, I thought I understood where it came from.

  “Luka,” I started as I walked over to the bar, where my brother was pouring himself another very generous glass of aged Glenfiddich.

  I doubted he could even taste it at this point, he was so intoxicated.

  “Brother!” Luka slurred, raising his glass in my direction. “Great dinner,” he said with a sneer. “Great toast. Really livened up the party.”

  He reeked of booze, as if he was sweating it out of his skin, to the point that I had to take a step back. Now that I was standing in front of him, I realized exactly how terrible he looked. It wasn’t just that Luka was intoxicated; I’d seen plenty of that lately. His shirt was only half tucked, and buttoned incorrectly. His hair stuck up greasily in places, as if he hadn’t showered properly in days. And his face had changed, with new lines fanning out from his eyes, and a pale puffiness that hadn’t been there before. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.

  “You look pretty peaked,” I told him honestly. “Maybe you should cool it on the booze.”

  “Maybe you should mind your own business,” he said, glaring at me. “I’m perfec’ly capable of handling my shit.” He was slurring.

  “Okay,” I said skeptically.

  I suppressed the urge to knock the glass out of his hand. Truthfully, I was torn between giving Luka a dose of tough love or treating him with more compassion. I didn’t want to enable his drinking, but at the same time I knew that he had only just recently learned the truth about what our father did behind the scenes of KZ Modeling. The fact that KZM made most of its money via sex trafficking had clearly hit Luka hard. And he in turn had hit the bottle hard.