Just when I’m about to lose my willpower from the intoxicating scent of his damn spicy cologne, he steps back and gestures that I should return to my chair. Taking out his cellphone, he types something into it and then puts it away. Then he leans against the desk and puts on a Prince Charming smile.
“Ms. Moss, one more question.”
I sit, already wondering what kind of nonsense he’s going to ask next. “Go ahead.”
“How do you feel about marriage?”
Brooklyn
Chapter 5
How do I even respond to that?
My mind goes blank.
“M-marriage?” I stutter. “I mean, my focus is on modeling. Is this for some kind of reality show or something? Because I’m not really interested in that kind of thing.”
“It’s not for television. It’s for me.” Luka spreads his hands and I feel my jaw drop. He just smirks. “Not what you were expecting when you came here today, was it?”
That’s an understatement. I had no idea I’d run into him again, despite half hoping I would, and I certainly never imagined he’d be more or less proposing we get hitched.
“You’re right,” I stammer. “I was expecting to audition for a job. Or a contract.”
He clears his throat. “It is a job, if you want to look at it that way.”
I blink at him, still not quite comprehending what he’s offering.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” he says. “But you may find the arrangement to be to your benefit. Perhaps we should discuss it in more detail over dinner. At my penthouse.”
His cheeky smile throws me off-center. It’s the same self-confident, alluring grin that shattered all my defenses three years ago—and the lust that’s been teasing me since I walked in here comes at me full force. It’s awake and alive. If I’m not careful, I’m going to give it free rein.
I’m so torn, but I’m also so intrigued. Plus, I can’t help feeling like I owe it to myself to explore exactly what he’s offering. “I’ll do dinner, but not at your penthouse.”
His eyes drop to my lips. “Fair enough. Meet at Luciana’s at eight?”
It’s a small Italian restaurant, popular with locals and fiercely guarded from tourists. Though the food is incredible, it’s not a five-star restaurant—but still fancy enough to be labeled a date-night destination.
This isn’t a date, I remind myself.It’s a business meeting.
And I am definitely, for sure, one hundred percent not going home with Luka Zoric.
“Sure,” I say.
I’m not going down that road again. This time, my interactions with him will be purely professional. I know better than to accept private auditions, and then offer up my body in exchange for some sweetly placed false words. I’m older now. Stronger and wiser, and come hell or high water, I’m not giving in to the extreme need for Luka’s touch. Even if it kills me.
The only thing I need is to get signed by Danica Rose so I can step into the next phase of my life.
There. I’ve already decided how this evening is going to go. I stand and slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Then I extend my hand to where he’s still standing beside the desk. He takes it with a raise of his brows.
“Thank you so much. I’ll see you tonight at eight.”
I turn on my heel and leave, not giving him a chance to reply, forcing myself to walk confidently even though I want to race out of there and rush home to figure out the perfect outfit. I walk into the waiting area only to find it empty. I look around, as if the other models might be hiding behind potted plants or in one of the glass-walled conference rooms, but I see nobody.
The receptionist is still here, typing away on her computer. I consider asking what happened to the others, but I decide not to.
I don’t really care.
As I ride the elevator back down to the lobby, my mind starts racing all over again. I have a non-date with the ex-one-time-lover who ghosted me. No, scratch that way of thinking. I have abusiness meetingwith anagency professionalwho can make my career.
