by Stella Gray
I watched their conversation from the back of the plane. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but judging by the hand gestures and the look on Stefan’s face, it didn’t seem like a very friendly conversation. It looked like they were arguing.
Finally, Konstantin pointed his finger directly into Stefan’s chest.
My pulse kicked. I had no idea what Stefan would do. I could see a muscle in his jaw tense, and his own hand curl into a fist, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stared at his father and gave a nod. Then he got up and came to the back of the plane.
I half expected him to take a seat behind Emzee or Luka, but instead he sat down next to me on the couch. It was obvious he was angry about whatever he’d just discussed with his father.
“Is everything okay?” I asked gently.
Stefan didn’t look at me, just straight ahead at the back of his father’s head.
“It’s fine,” he said flatly. “Just business stuff.”
It had to be more than just that, but I didn’t press him. I had a feeling he wanted to stew with his thoughts for a bit, so I figured the best thing I could do was keep quiet and let him.
“Psst! Tori,” Emzee was hissing at me. “Girl talk!”
I looked up and she motioned me toward the empty seat next to her. With a grin, I got up and moved to sit beside her. I was sure Stefan would appreciate the space.
“Let’s lean our chairs all the way back,” she said with a grin.
We did, reclining almost fully flat. Then Emzee shook out a blanket and covered us with it. In the semi-dark, it was almost like we were in a tent. Emzee’s grey eyes sparkled with mischief.
“I feel like we’re having a sleepover,” I told her.
She laughed. “Exactly! So now we have to tell each other secrets.”
“What kind of secrets?” I asked.
“I’ll go easy on you,” Emzee said. “You can tell me anything you’re comfortable with.”
I thought about it for a moment, but it didn’t take long to come up with something.
“I’m not sure if this counts,” I whispered, “but I used my fake ID to get into a strip club last night.”
Emzee gasped, grabbing my hands. “You bad girl! I’m impressed. You seemed better behaved than that, but it turns out you’re a wild woman. Just like me.”
I laughed. “It wasn’t that exciting—your brother found me and took my ID and dragged me out before I saw even one oily buff guy in a thong.”
We both giggled, Emzee kicking her feet a little with glee.
“Now you,” I said. “Tell me something good. Anything I don’t know about you.”
“I’ve got something even better,” she whispered. “About my brother. If you’re interested.”
I lowered my voice. “Tell me.”
“You’ve seen all the paintings hanging up at Stefan’s place, right?”
I nodded. They’d been one of the first things that stood out to me about the condo. “Yeah. They’re great. A little dark, but gorgeous.”
I remembered angular swaths of shadow and light, bent figures, light spilling from windows, hands and trees and churning skies in thick impasto, like Van Gogh.
Emzee smiled. “Those are all our mother’s.”
My heart felt like it was cracking. “Your mom painted all of those?”
She nodded. “Stefan’s always surrounded himself with them. Even when he was away at college. I have a bunch too, but I keep them in storage. It makes sad to see them. I hate that I don’t remember her.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I lost my mother when I was young, too.”
“I know,” Emzee said. “That’s why I told you about Stefan. I thought you’d get it.”
“I do.”
Emzee smiled, but it was a little less mischievous this time. “Your turn. Tell me something you haven’t told anybody else.”
I chewed my lip for a moment. “Okay. I’m glad I got married, for a lot of reasons, but one of the biggest ones is that…I’m glad to be away from my dad. I mean he’s great, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always been like a pet to him. And he had so many rules for me growing up, it’s just…really nice to be out on my own, doing my own thing, without him running my life.”
For a second Emzee was quiet, and I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing.
Then, in the ghost of a whisper, she said, “I know exactly what you mean. Moving out on my own when I turned eighteen was the best thing I ever did. So liberating.”
We shared a smile.
For the rest of the flight, I helped Emzee go over the proofs of her photos, but I couldn’t stop thinking about Stefan and those paintings. Whether he could admit it or not, losing his mother at a young age had scarred him, had made him feel completely powerless. And he’d reacted in the only way that made sense—by trying to control everything else around him. Even me. So maybe the reason he’d acted so cruel all those times wasn’t because he wanted to hurt me. But because somewhere, deep down, he couldn’t stand the thought of losing me, too.
Tori
Chapter 25
New York City looked as picture-perfect as a postcard, and I couldn’t stop staring at all the tall buildings and yellow taxis and colorful denizens as the car took us to our luxury hotel. We had arrived that afternoon and headed straight there, a fancy building on the Upper East Side owned by someone with whom Konstantin and his family had a relationship. Thanks to the connection, we were given the total VIP treatment, each of us getting a suite on a separate floor.
The view from our window was breathtaking. I could see Central Park from one angle—all the lush trees and winding paths—and the rest of the cityscape from another. If Stefan had told me I had to stay in the hotel while he worked, I wouldn’t have even minded, the view was that magical.
But instead, I was going to be accompanying the Zorics to a fashion show featuring a handful of models from KZ Modeling’s roster. The designer was up and coming, and the fashion world was going crazy over her work, so it was going to be a big event with lots of media there. We arrived at the hotel, and I immediately began getting ready for the night ahead.
Unlike my ill-fated night out with the girls from UChicago, tonight I needed to look like the expensive, well-dressed wife of a man who ran one of the most prestigious modeling agencies in the world. People would definitely be looking at me, and I might even be photographed by the media. I wanted to make sure I’d get attention for the right reasons.
I spent hours on my hair and makeup, until my hair cascaded down my back like a gleaming wave and my makeup was flawless; sultry but appropriately subtle. I wasn’t trying to make a scene. I just wanted to look like I belonged.
Knowing that we would be surrounded by celebrities and other wealthy members of New York society, I was glad I had chosen to bring the diamond necklace that Stefan had given me in Vienna. I’d been waiting for an excuse to wear it again, and it would be the perfect accompaniment to my Zac Posen dress. The design itself was simple—a chiffon v-neck with flutter sleeves and tiers of ruffles from knee to ankle—but it hugged my curves and showed off the necklace perfectly. A pair of black stilettos gave me a few necessary inches, and my beaded, Art Deco style clutch gave the whole thing a pop of color and excitement.
Stefan was just finishing up with his tie when I walked out of the bedroom. He glanced up and his hands stilled mid- knot as he stared at me.
“Will this work?” I asked, spreading my arms and giving him a little twirl.
We hadn’t had sex last night and my body was already feeling the effects. He looked so good in his suit that I was tempted to get on my knees and try to improve my oral sex technique. I craved him. I also knew the rest of the evening was going to be a long one, and with our early departure the following morning, I had a feeling we wouldn’t be able to do much tonight either. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to fully concentrate on anything else until he fucked me again.
I wanted him to rip off my expensive dress and c
arry me into the bedroom, taking me fast and rough as he pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling window, wearing only my shoes and the diamonds he had given me. I’d come hard, moaning against the glass with the city of New York spread out before me. The thought was so perverse and decadent that my skin grew hot and tight imagining it.
It was clear that Stefan’s mind was going to equally dirty places. His eyes were intense, dark with lust. Did he miss touching me, too?
He let his eyes travel the length of my body but he didn’t say anything. His hands were still tangled in his tie. Then, he lowered his hands and took a step toward me. I took a breath, knowing that in mere seconds he’d be in front of me.
But before he could take another step, there was a knock at the door.
“Come on, big brother!” Emzee’s voice came through from the other side. “The car is waiting!”
Stefan turned away from me, returning his focus to the mirror and his tie.
“I’ll get it,” I told him, trying to ignore my sexual frustration.
“Agh! You look like a dream,” Emzee told me when I greeted her.
“You do too,” I said, because she did.
Her style was a little edgier than mine, her dark hair styled in an arrangement of almost-Viking type braids, her black dress sporting dramatic cutouts along the shoulders and down the back. With her neon eyeshadow and signature combat boots, she was definitely going to grab some attention tonight.
She looped her arm through mine.
“Let’s go downstairs,” she said. “The boys can catch up.”
I cast one last look in Stefan’s direction, but he didn’t even glance over—he was too focused on his tie.
“See you in a minute,” I called out, and then followed Emzee downstairs, where a limo was waiting for us.
“I love New York,” she gushed as we got in.
There was a bottle of champagne and Emzee poured us both a glass. I hesitated for a moment, but then figured that this was all part of the deal; it would be weird if I didn’t drink. Plus, it wasn’t like I’d be throwing back shots like I’d done last night at the bar. This was champagne. Hardly alcoholic at all. And besides, we were celebrating.
By the time Stefan, Luka, and Konstantin joined us in the car, the champagne had lifted my spirits and taken the edge off my intense desire for my husband. The hungry look he shot my way when he got in didn’t help, but I was determined to spend the evening playing the role of attentive, respectful trophy wife. I would show Stefan how much of an asset I could be, and that it was to his benefit to bring me along to events like this.
We made our way through traffic across the city, heading to the show at another fancy hotel across town. It was a new collection of couture dresses, and everyone big in the fashion industry was going to be in attendance. Because KZM had provided the majority of the models that were walking in the show, we’d been given front row seats.
Cameras flashed as we walked the red carpet for the event. Celebrities of all stripes were there, and I did my best to keep from gaping at them. While I’d met plenty of famous people through my father, it was still hard to not get star struck.
I did my best to adopt the same disinterested, polite smile that Stefan was wearing, all the while trying to keep my distance from Luka and Konstantin. Luka was easy; he was currently distracted by one of the models who would be walking in the show. A model that I recognized.
It was the beautiful redhead I’d seen at Stefan’s office the other day. The one he’d told me was pregnant.
I gave her a quick once over. She wasn’t showing yet, her body stunning in a silky midnight blue jumpsuit. Luka had his hand on the small of her back and was holding her close, whispering something in her ear that made her laugh. If I had thought she was beautiful when her eyes were puffy and red, then she was absolutely gorgeous dressed so glamorously, her face made up perfectly. She put her hand on Luka’s chest, and said something that made him grin.
Was he her baby’s father?
Konstantin was also distracted by the models surrounding us, but not so distracted that he hadn’t sent a few lewd glances my way. Thankfully, he seemed more focused on work than on the way my necklace was sparkling between my breasts. The only Zoric I wanted to appreciate that was Stefan.
Since we’d exited the limo, he’d kept his arm firmly around my waist. Part of me knew he was likely doing it because we needed to keep up appearances for the cameras. But the other part of me knew he didn’t need to keep his hand curled quite so tightly around me. That his fingers didn’t need to be flexing and unflexing, stroking the soft curve of my hip. That he didn’t need to hold me so close.
He was doing all of that because he wanted to. And because he couldn’t help himself.
I smiled up at him shyly, and he gave me a smile in return.
We finished with pictures and headed into the event. Because KZM had been so crucial to the event, we were given backstage passes so we could go backstage and mingle, get an insider view of what was happening before the show began.
It was a flurry of activity, with hair and makeup artists barking orders at assistants and frantic models in various stages of undress. Some of them had curlers in their hair, some were being sprayed with hairspray to help the clothes adhere more tightly to them. The vibe was overwhelming and loud and fun.
Luka had abandoned his redheaded model and was now chatting up another girl with black hair, naked from the waist up. She was giggling and tossing her hair back, her breasts jiggling with every movement. Luka wasn’t even trying not to stare.
I saw the redhead sitting at a dressing table, examining the bags under her eyes. I quietly stepped away from Stefan, who was talking to the ebullient designer, and headed over to the redhead. If we were potentially going to be connected through a baby, I wanted to be friendly.
“Hi,” I said, startling her a little.
She met my gaze in the mirror. “Hello,” she responded.
I waited for her to recognize me from that day at the agency, but it seemed like she didn’t. Instead she went back to focusing on her reflection.
“Are you excited for the show?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, still not looking at me.
Had I guessed wrong? Was Luka really not the father? Or was there something else going on? She wasn’t going to talk to me, obviously. I took the hint and moved away.
All around me were models getting ready, but any time our eyes would meet, they’d turn away. I was getting the cold shoulder from all of them—the same women who were happy to greet my husband and his family with smiles and cheek kisses. Something wasn’t right.
Judging by their accents, most of them seemed to be Eastern European, which accounted for the constant cheek kissing. It wasn’t that unusual, I supposed, considering that that was where the Zorics were from originally.
The show was going to begin shortly so we were shown to our seats, and I tried to set my anxiety aside. I’d never been to a fashion show before, but it didn’t disappoint. The whole event was beyond thrilling, all of the clothes exquisite and sophisticated. It was a true honor to sit in the front row and watch these women (and a few men) walk the runway.
When the lights came back up I thought we were done, but we moved on from there to a lavish after-party, where the Veuve Clicquot was flowing and the models were mingling with guests. I stayed close to Stefan’s side, smiling as he introduced me to people and making polite small talk. After a while, though, I noticed that Konstantin seemed to be talking with a different model every time I glanced over at him.
I began to pay more attention to what he was doing, and realized that not only was he talking to different models, he was also making sure to personally introduce them to certain guests at the party. Most of them seemed to be men.
No, that wasn’t right.
All of them were men.
I watched a leggy young model with a platinum pixie cut get presented to a man that was probably her father’s age. She smiled
and laughed and seemed to be having a good time. After Konstantin left the two of them alone, they chatted for a little longer and then, to my astonishment, walked out of the party together.
Staying close to Stefan, I started observing Konstantin more purposefully. It seemed like almost all of the models he had introduced to men—most of them older men—ended up leaving the party with their new acquaintances. Red flags were going up, but I didn’t want to judge. People came to these things to have a good time. It was none of my concern who went home with whom. In fact, I wondered if the men were simply photographers or managers or other designers. Maybe they were heading off to talk business.
Then I got a better look at the next girl Konstantin homed on—the beautiful redhead I’d tried to engage in conversation earlier that evening. The one who Luka had been flirting with.
“Where’s Luka?” I asked Stefan, tugging his sleeve gently.
He shrugged. “Probably making the most of the party. What do you need?”
“I’m fine,” I said with what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Just haven’t seen him for a bit. Thought maybe he’d stepped out.”
“You know how my brother is. Always making new friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ducked out early with one of them.”
“Yeah.” I forced a laugh, but my stomach was turning.
I scanned the room, finally spotting him at the other end, chatting up yet another of the models. He was giving her exactly the same type of attention he’d given the redhead—and the topless model backstage—flirting and touching her, turning on the charm full stop. This current woman, a brunette with diminutive, cat-like features, seemed more than thrilled with the attention. She was laughing and leaning closer to him, her hand on his arm.
If he was the father of the redhead’s baby, it didn’t seem like he was very committed to her. Maybe that’s why she’d been so upset. Luka’s appetite for women wasn’t news to me, but I was shocked he would so blatantly—and publicly—snub a woman that he’d gotten pregnant.
