“Sin with me, then,” I say, pushing the basket toward him. “It’s that good. And then go ahead and try to convince me that I have any interest at all in a sham marriage.”
“That’s a tall order,” he says, digging into the bread. “Especially considering that I don’t have the gift of negotiation and persuasion quite like my brother and…father seem to.”
He says the wordfatherlike it’s distasteful, and I’m quick to smooth over it.
“I imagine that you’re very persuasive,” I say carefully, trying to keep any hint of accusation out of my voice. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you feel inferior to them in some way.”
My voice is light and teasing and he takes it that way, grinning as he crosses his arms on the table and leans over them. “You got me. The truth is, I’m the black sheep of the Zoric family. It’s easy to prove. Just look at my profile.”
He turns his head to the side, and I laugh, not at all sure what he’s up to.
“It’s a very nice profile.”
Scoffing, he turns the other way. “Look at this side. Do you see it now?”
“Again, very nice.” Very, very nice.
“You flatter me—but I’ll have you know that I’m the least photogenic of the family, by far. Which is ironic, isn’t it, considering what our family business is?”
“That’s a terrible shame.”
“It is. I mean it’s tough, having to walk around with a paper bag over your head during the holidays and family functions, trying not to mess up any group photos.”
The mental image is so ridiculous I have to laugh. I can’t believe we’re flirting like this, and that it feels so easy and natural.
“But you know,” I tell him, “everyone takes a bad photo once in a while.”
He reaches over to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek for a split second.Don’t react, I tell myself.Just, don’t.
“I highly doubt that you’ve ever taken a bad photo, Brooklyn.”
There he goes again, saying exactly the right thing. Charming me. Making mewant. I shake my head and pull away to grab my wallet from my purse. “Oh, yeah? Be prepared to be proven wrong.” I tug out my driver’s license and hold it against my chest. “Come on, yours too. Fair is fair.”
He fake groans and makes a big deal of pulling his out of his wallet. Then he tosses it across the table and plucks mine from my fingers. I pick his up and let out a laugh. He’s hot as hell, but that picture is something else.
“This is like a straight-up mug shot,” I say, before realizing I’ve just said the most awkward thing in the world to someone who did indeed get arrested a few months back.
But when I look up at him to gauge his reaction, he’s got the biggest smile on his face. “To be honest, my mug shot looks way better than my driver’s license,” he says. “Google it.”
Now we’re both laughing, and I have to remind myself that this is the same man who lied to me, who used me, who doesn’t even have the decency now to remember my face.
He hands my license back. “Okay, I was wrong. Thisisa terrible photo of you.”
Just then, the waitress appears with our meals. By the time she leaves, I’ve composed that part of myself that wants to just run away with the superficial lust between us. Setting my napkin on my lap, I press my palms into my thighs.
“Tell me what the point of this whole marriage thing is,” I say, cutting to the chase.
He gives a slight nod. “Sure. Got a little distracted there.”
My stomach tightens in expectation of what he might say. The pasta smells amazing, but I’m not sure I can take a bite right now. Luka, on the other hand, digs right in. He notices that I haven’t touched my food, sets his fork aside, and clears his throat.
“So basically, the reason for all of this is that my reputation needs work in light of my father’s recent arrest. The disgrace he brought down on the business and our family name is no secret, and with him in jail, I’ve been the media’s scapegoat.”
I nod. “Makes sense. People are angry. They need someone to take it out on. Not that it’s fair to you.” I finally start on my spaghetti as he leans back, seeming to gather his words.
“Even with every other member of our family being cleared of any wrongdoing, and the fact that my older brother pretty much handed my father over to the feds on a silver platter, we’re still struggling to regain the public’s confidence in us. As a business and as humans.”
“Sure,” I say, pausing to blot my mouth with my napkin before continuing. “I mean, I was floored when I heard about it. It made me think twice about going to the audition today, and whether I wanted to be associated with the Zorics at all.”
