The only thing I do know with one-hundred-percent certainty is that Luka just showed me who he really is—whoIam—and it’s the last time I’ll let myself forget it.
This will never, ever happen again.
Brooklyn
Chapter 16
After all these years, all those pounded pavements, the endless revolving door of hopeful auditions and crushing rejections and the small-time gigs I hustled for that kept me going but just couldn’t launch my career…perfume is taking me national.
I don’t care for most perfume, personally, but if this is what’s going to put my face in the pages of every popular beauty magazine and on a billboard in Times Square, I’ll take a bath in it.
I was so nervous this morning that I ended up arriving a few minutes early, and now I’m standing here in the studio glancing around at all the chaos with sweet, but tense, anticipation. Admittedly, I’m a tad overwhelmed. I’ve done plenty of shoots before, but this is a really big deal. It’s my first campaign as a Danica Rose model, and it’s a doozy. I’m going to be the face of a brand new celebrity perfume called “Soirée” and there’s a lot riding on my success.
“The photographer is all set up and ready to go,” Luka says, coming up to me. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m great,” I lie. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything that I almost forgot Luka accompanied me. He wanted to oversee the shoot—not as my fiancé, of course, but as a DRM exec who needs to shake hands and ensure all goes well with the company’s newest signed face.
Luka checks his watch. “Almost time for the walk-through. The photographer will show you the set with the stylist and you’ll get some notes on what’s expected of you. After that you’ll sit for hair and makeup and then go to wardrobe.”
“In case you forgot, Ihavedone this before,” I say, forcing a smile through gritted teeth.
“Just trying to help,” he says, walking away from me.
Things have been a little tense between us—okay, a lot tense—ever since we had hot, angry sex in the limo and Luka thanked me for “helping” with his blue balls. Even still, I was initially kind of excited when he offered to come to this shoot with me. I thought this could be an opportunity for him to finally see what I’m capable of. To prove that not only is he not wasting Danica Rose’s time by signing me to an exclusive contract, but that he made aseriousmisstep three years ago when he let me slip away.
But now here he is being a dick to me. Treating me like an amateur and mansplaining things that I know the photographer is going to tell me all about in a few minutes anyway.
Why did I expect anything different? After forcing myself to get through the remainder of the disastrous Danica Rose party, I’ve stayed in my corner and Luka has stayed in his. Not that I haven’t been aware of his presence 24/7. The penthouse is big and lofty, but I can still smell his damn cologne everywhere. Still hear his footsteps padding into the kitchen every morning when I know he’s walking around post-shower with only a towel around his hips. He also likes to take his phone calls on the upper deck outside, the deep tones of his voice rippling back to me inside. Basically, there’s no place that I can go when I’m at home to be completely free of him.
He’s always around in one way or another to remind me that I made a huge mistake in that limo. A mistake that my heart and pride still haven’t recovered from. He’s done nothing to reassure me about that night, either, which only serves to remind me what an ass he can be.
“Brooklyn? I’m Ady, the stylist.”
I turn to find a gorgeous woman with box braids and glowing dark skin holding out a hand to me. “Hi! It’s great to meet you,” I gush, glad someone has finally said hello.
“Just wanted to let you know there’s coffee and breakfast over there,” she says, pointing. “Feel free to feast. You’ve still got a few minutes to scarf.”
With a wink, she’s gone, and I wander over to grab half a bagel and make myself a cup of hot green tea—more to give myself something to do than because I’m actually thirsty.
Luka wanders back over to stand beside me with his hands in his pockets.
“You sure you want to be eating right before they start snapping photos?” he asks.
I shoot him a death glare. “What’s wrong, Luka? Worried I’ll get a cramp?”
With that, I stuff a huge bite of bagel into my mouth. The fact is, the reason I work so hard at the gym is so that I don’thave toworry what might happen if I eat a bagel before a photo shoot. And I’m not going to let Luka make me any more anxious about this than I already am.
He’s ignoring me now, looking around and assessing the set. I’ve already studied it myself. There’s an exposed brick wall for the backdrop and a black fainting couch with velvet throw pillows on it. Two antique-looking lamps arch over the couch. A white Persian cat is milling around inside a huge animal carrier, waving its plume of a tail. Spread out on the prop table is a slip of lacy fabric that must be some sort of lingerie, and a fur stole. There are three of the same bottle of perfume carefully lined up on mirrored trays.
The whole thing has a vintage feel to it, and I wonder how they’ll do my hair and makeup. I’m thinking bold, early-Hollywood movie star style with a red lip and soft waves, or maybe they’ll pin my hair up to make it look shorter. Either way, I love the vibe.
The photographer, Hans, bald and black-turtlenecked with huge horn-rimmed glasses, waves me over onto the set. I go eagerly, pointedly ignoring Luka.
“I’m going to have you do a few quick poses for me first, so I can get a sense of how your face and body play against the backdrop and the lighting. Then we can make adjustments while you’re getting ready.”
I nod and wait for his instructions. Luka is a few feet behind the photographer now, his expression intent as if he’s going to watch and critique my every move. He steps onto the set and waves a hand.
“The lighting in here is all wrong,” he says, brow furrowing. “Brooklyn’s hair is so dark that you need to put a separate back light on it. Otherwise your key light is going to wash out her skin tone and blow the whole exposure. That thing shouldn’t be over 3,000K.”
