The Deal

by Stella Gray

  I felt a kinship with Stefan in that moment. There had to be more to the story, things he wasn’t willing to tell me yet. But it was enough for now. After all, we were both using this marriage to break free from our fathers’ control, to get what we wanted. It made sense.

  Stefan took my hands in his. They were warm, his grip strong and certain.

  “Marry me,” he said, and my heart dropped into my stomach. “We’ll make our own lives. Our own choices.”

  It was tempting. So very tempting.

  He reached into the pocket of the jacket wrapped around my shoulders and pulled out a turquoise ring box. I hadn’t even realized it was there. When he opened it, a massive princess cut diamond ring sparkled in the light coming from inside.

  This night just wouldn’t stop leaving me speechless.

  “Your father said you wouldn’t wear anything over five carats,” Stefan said. “But I can get you something different if you—”

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, finally letting out the breath I’d been holding. I shook my head. “I just can’t believe this is really happening.”

  “So—is it a deal?” Stefan asked.

  I looked at the box, and then at him.

  This wasn’t what I’d wanted out of my life. I’d planned to get out from under my father’s thumb, not let myself be trapped even tighter beneath it. I had dreamed of being rescued—but I wanted to rescue myself. Maybe I still could.

  “It’s a deal,” I said.

  With a smile, he took out the ring and slid it onto my finger. It was heavier than I expected, the stone spanning the width of my finger. But it felt good. It felt…secure.

  “The first thing you should know if you’re going to be my wife,” he said, his voice dropping low as he leaned toward me, “is that I take what I want.”

  Before I could respond, he cupped my face in his hands and drew my mouth to his. The moment our lips touched, everything else seemed to fade away.

  I gave myself up to him completely, following his lead as he deepened the kiss, coaxing my mouth open, stroking his tongue slowly against mine until I could barely stand.

  His hands dropped to steady my waist, holding me tight against him, and I moaned softly. The kiss was electric. I could practically feel sparks bursting between us, and my insides had gone loose and liquid. None of the furtive kisses I’d shared with boys over the years could hold a candle to this. Because Stefan was a man. A man who knew how to kiss.

  I never wanted it to end, but finally it did.

  My heart was pounding as he released me, stepping back, his defenses up again. I couldn’t read the guarded expression in his eyes.

  “We should return to the party,” he said, taking my hand—the one now flashing an enormous diamond—and tucking it around his bicep. His firm, muscular bicep.

  It wasn’t the birthday present I had been wishing for, but maybe it was better.

  As we turned to go back inside, I noticed my father. He was standing near the glass doors leading out onto the balcony, right within view of Stefan and me. And he wasn’t alone. Standing next to him was the man I had seen Stefan speaking to earlier. The man I’d assumed was his father. Had they seen the whole thing?

  My stomach knotted as I glanced over at my new fiancé. He was looking straight ahead. How much of that had really been for me?

  And how much of it had been a performance?

  Tori

  Chapter 4

  3 months later

  * * *

  They say you should never skimp on a professional wedding photographer, because the day speeds by so fast that you need to look at the pictures later to remember it. I’d never believed it before today, but as I sank onto a silk sofa in an empty room, white satin heels in my hand, I realized it was true. I’d hardly had a chance to take it all in, and now it was over.

  Stefan and I were married. I was his wife.

  I still couldn’t believe it.

  The last thing I really remembered in detail was peeking out into the packed event space, my heart in my throat, taking in the heady white scent of Stargazer lilies and the sea of faces. Everyone was whispering to each other excitedly, most of them either unknown or newly introduced to me. After that it was mostly a blur.

  Our ceremony had been brief—the sooner to get to the lavish reception afterward—but to my surprise, Stefan had written his own vows. Or at least, someone had. I was so nervous that I only processed every few words, and they were all the usual ones about honor and support and facing new challenges together as we entered the next chapter of our lives.

  But after the officiant had turned to me and said the last line—‘As long as you both shall live?’—I froze. The entire room was holding its breath expectantly, awaiting my ‘I do,’ but I was completely paralyzed, my vision going dark at the edges.

  Was this what they called cold feet? Was I going to faint at the altar?

  And then Stefan leaned toward me to whisper something in my ear, something that only I could hear. Something I knew I would never forget.

  Alis volat propriis, he said softly. Then he stepped back and smiled.

  It was Latin. She flies with her own wings.

  Realizing what he’d just said to me, everything came back into sharp focus. Suddenly my mind was completely clear.

  I returned Stefan’s smile. “I do, too,” I said.

  And then we kissed.

  Later in the evening—I couldn’t even say when—I’d been formally introduced to a large portion of the extended Zoric family. There was Stefan’s father, of course, who I had spoken with only briefly on the night Stefan and I became engaged, but also tons of cousins, elderly relatives, and even a few young kids. The best moment, however, had been finally meeting Stefan’s younger siblings, Luka and Mara.

  Luka seemed to be quite the ladies’ man, exactly as Stefan had described him, flashing his dimples at every female in sight—though he was nothing but sweet to me. Mara, the globetrotting photographer who had once loved Cinderella, threw her arms around me the second we met and insisted I call her Emzee like everyone else in the family did. With her dark, tumbling hair and kohl-lined grey eyes, she could have been one of KZ’s models.

  And then there were scores of other friends and relatives and my father’s political acquaintances, so many names and faces I couldn’t keep track. I wished someone had given me flashcards to help memorize all the names and pertinent information in advance, like I’d often gotten before my father’s events. I could only hope I’d get to know everyone better later on, once Stefan and I had settled into married life. It was going to take some getting used to.

  My dress rustled, echoing in the private room that had been set up for me just off the hotel’s ballroom. It was the first moment since the day had begun that I was alone, and I just needed a second to let things sink in before I joined Stefan—my husband, I reminded myself—to say goodbye to our reception guests and then head upstairs to our room.

  Our room.

  The wedding suite.

  I swallowed. Hard.

  Everything had happened so fast that I hadn’t had a chance to feel nervous about my wedding night yet. But it was finally sinking in.

  “You bitch.”

  My head snapped up and I turned to find my friend Grace poking her head in the door, a look of absolute glee on her face.

  “Hey you,” I said, smiling despite my exhaustion.

  “This day was a-may-ziiing!” she sing-songed. “Everything was so perfect.”

  “It was all Michelle’s doing. And thanks for coming. It was nice to see a familiar face.” It wasn’t a lie. “I don’t even know half the people we invited. I think the paparazzi even snuck in.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.” She sashayed over in her flouncy dress, tugging her heels off and sinking to the floor beside me. “Stefan is fucking gorgeous, Tori. I danced with him twice during the money dance—not that you guys need it—and totally swooned. But don’t worry. He didn’t take his eyes of
f you the whole night.” She grinned mischievously. “I think I finally understand why we need human cloning trials.”

  “You’re horrible!” I shrieked.

  “I know, I’m the worst. But you love me. God, where did you even find him? One minute you’re stressing about tuition and course offerings and the next I’m getting this insane gold-leaf wedding invitation out of the blue. It’s like this all happened overnight.”

  “He was a guest at my birthday party,” I answered carefully. “The son of one of my father’s friends. It happened so fast, I guess I just…haven’t had time to catch you up.”

  There was no way I was going to tell Grace, or anyone, that it was an arranged marriage.

  “I can’t believe I was just laying around in Ibiza while you were pouncing on this guy! A Zoric! I’m never taking a vacation again. Tell me his brother is single. I couldn’t get him alone.”

  “Luka? I’m pretty sure he is,” I said. “Although I don’t think he’d be into anything exclusive. But you never know. I’ll put in a good word.”

  “You’re the best!” Grace squealed, wrapping her arms around my legs. “Listen, I’m gonna head back out to the party, but call me soon ‘cause I wanna hear about all the deets. Especially after tonight.” She winked.

  “Let’s not talk about that,” I said, dropping my face into my hands.

  “Tori Lindsey,” Grace hissed. “Are you seriously telling me you still haven’t given up your V card? To that man out there? The one you just freaking married?”

  My silence was answer enough.

  Confusion, and then understanding, dawned on her face.

  “Ohhhh. It’s all making sense now.” She nodded slowly. “He has a virginity kink! God Tori, you lucked out. Not that it was luck. I can’t believe all those years of chastity finally paid off. Go you! Wait. Does this mean you guys haven’t even—”

  “Oh wow. I am so tired,” I cut in, humiliated beyond repair. “I think I should—

  “Gah! Don’t worry, I’m leaving. I know you need to save your strength,” Grace teased, slipping back into her shoes. “Just remember, lube is your friend. That’s the one piece of advice I wish someone had given me. And don’t forget to call me. Love you!”

  She scurried away, shutting the door behind her and leaving me in silence again.

  I was anxious, but also felt like I could actually fall asleep right on that sofa. I was still decompressing from all the excitement. Maybe I’d better grab a coffee. I was going to be up all night with Stefan, wasn’t I? My pulse raced just thinking about it.

  Grace was right about one thing, though. Things had happened fast. Despite being crazy attracted to Stefan, we’d barely seen—or gotten to know—each other during the engagement. After my party he’d returned to Chicago for work, and I had stayed in Springfield, preparing to start at UChicago in the fall.

  Michelle had planned everything within two months, which would’ve been impossible without the help of my father’s contacts and the Zoric family connections. I had never seen her so thrilled, or so busy. Truthfully, I had been more excited about college than planning a wedding, so it was a relief to let other people take care of all the details.

  I’d had no say in any of it, including my dress, which my stepmother had knocked out of the ballpark. It was a sophisticated column of silk with a plunging but tastefully narrow neckline and tiny pearl buttons down the back—the perfect mix of classic and modern. If I had felt like Cinderella on the night of my birthday party, well, I looked like a queen tonight.

  It seemed like Stefan had thought so as well.

  The wedding had been my first look at how much money and influence his family truly commanded. If they wanted it, money was no object. Michelle wanted my dress to be made by a Serbian designer in honor of my new husband’s heritage? She had gotten it. She wanted the whole event catered by Chicago’s hottest new chef? Check, check, double check. Every event, from the engagement party to the reception, had taken place at the most exclusive, upscale hotels in the city—all properties owned by Stefan’s family. All I had needed to do was show up, put the dress on, smile for photos and kiss the groom.

  Still, I remembered what Stefan had told me that first night, about living life for me.

  I was excited for all the ways my life was about to change.

  And nervous as well.

  I had hoped that Stefan and I would have gotten a chance to get to know each other during the engagement. That we’d at least talk on the phone or send flirty texts once in a while. A part of me had even hoped that he might take some time out of his busy schedule to come visit and take me on a date.

  It was terrifying to realize I had just married a man I’d never gone out to dinner with. Besides that one dance at my birthday party, we’d barely spoken to each other.

  I knew I shouldn’t be disappointed—in essence, this was going to be a marriage in name only—but still, I had allowed myself to get swept up in the romance of the evening we met. I had allowed myself to imagine a fairytale life with my husband, where we started out as strangers and ended up falling in love. Or, at least, falling into lust.

  Because I knew what was expected of a wife. It was the hardest part of this deal to swallow, knowing I was about to give myself, body and soul, to a stranger.

  At least I didn’t have to worry about being attracted to him.

  Stefan on our wedding day was a sight to behold, waiting for me down the aisle in a midnight black tux that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He looked like a god.

  We’d shared our second kiss at the end of the ceremony, and it was as electric as the kiss he’d given me on my birthday. I could only imagine how intense it would be when we were alone tonight.

  I was ready.

  Okay, that was a lie.

  I’d thought about it a lot. Fantasized about what he’d be like with me. Would he be gentle and sweet? Or rough and demanding? I alternated my fantasies between both. But I knew reality wasn’t the same thing as what I’d built up in my mind, and while I wanted to be ravaged in theory, the actuality of it was a little overwhelming.

  The door to the anteroom opened again and I stood, my dress rustling with the movement. I was eager to get it off. I shivered at the idea of my husband helping me out of it.

  But it wasn’t Stefan at the door. It was Michelle, with a Louis Vuitton duffle in hand.

  “Let’s get you out of that dress,” she said. “And into something you can wear for the goodbye, before you go up to the bridal suite.”

  The dress she had brought was a little more my style—a simple black sheath with a rounded neckline and cap sleeves. It was a gift from Stefan. Having clothes made for me by his personal tailors was a perk I was already becoming accustomed to. I loved it.

  Michelle chattered on about how wonderful the day had been as she began the long process of unbuttoning the intricate fastenings down the back of my dress. I smoothed my hands down my skirt, the reality of the whole day finally sinking in.

  I was married.

  Legally and bodily bound.

  To a virtual stranger.

  My stepmother must have noticed my breathing getting faster and my hands trembling. She finished with the dress and turned me around, her gaze searching mine.

  “I promise it’s going to be okay,” she said in her soothing Southern accent. “He’ll tell you exactly what he wants. Nothing to be worried about. For most men it’s…well, it’s a boon.”

  I realized she was talking about my virginity.

  My breath came faster.

  “Oh, honey. I was in your shoes once.” Michelle eased me back down onto the sofa and sat beside me. She smelled comfortingly of magnolias, her signature scent. “Your job is to please him. Just remember that.”

  I nodded. “Right. Got it. Except what if I can’t?”

  “All you have to do is follow his lead. You’re getting a lot out of this deal, but remember what he gets—you. Your body. It’s his now.”

 
; I tried to forget that her experience in the matter came from being with my father. I wasn’t naïve. I knew what was expected of me. But there had been very little actual preparation in that department. Now, facing the moment, I was starting to have second thoughts.

  “What if I can’t go through with it?” I asked Michelle, my doubts getting the best of me.

  She looked at me sternly. “This is not the time for talk like this. You can do this. You are doing this. You don’t have any other options.”

  She was right. If I wanted the life I desired – if I wanted to get an education, if I wanted to escape my father’s control—then I had to play this part. At least, for now.

  “At least he’s young and handsome,” Michelle said. “And he approves of your academic pursuits. Some husbands don’t want their wives working at all.” She let out a sigh.

  “I know,” I agreed.

  “Well, don’t you worry. I got you a little something.” Michelle pulled out a white glittery bag with an enormous bow on top. “It’ll make tonight easier for both of you.”

  “Is it a double magnum of wine?” I joked. And then I pulled out the tiniest piece of lingerie I’d ever seen. “Oh. Wow.”

  The garment appeared to be a clever arrangement of adjustable straps and bits of white lace. Completely see-through white lace. The top would barely cover my nipples, and though I understood the point wasn’t to hide anything, I couldn’t even figure out how it was supposed to go on. My brow creased in confusion. “What is—”

  “The garter belt is removable, and that middle strap is a thong,” Michelle said brightly.

  I could feel my face go bright red. If it were possible to die of humiliation, I was on my deathbed.

  If I couldn’t even look at the underwear without total embarrassment, how was I going to ever wear it?

  “You are his prize,” my stepmother reminded me, standing again to help me step out of the wedding dress. “There’s a reason they call us trophy wives, after all.”