The crowd suddenly parts and the flash of a camera takes me by surprise. I spin to find two photographers working the room, snapping pics as they mill through the crowd.
“Hey, is that the model who’s marrying the younger Zoric?” someone yells.
“Uh-oh,” Mateo drawls. “You’ve been recognized.” He throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in.
“Brooklyn, can we get a picture?” someone else is shouting now. “Brooklyn, over here!”
I initially freeze because I’m not sure what to do. Mateo nudges me. “Do you want the pictures to look terrible? You’re a professional, girl. Smile!”
Suddenly on autopilot, I manage to paste on a huge grin just as the photog snaps a few rapid-fire pictures. Mateo spins me around and pulls me back into his arms. We bump chests and I laugh. He kisses me on the cheek, clearly loving the media attention more than me. He’s a pro. I’m used to being in front of the camera, but not out in public. Luckily, the photographers snap a few more pictures of Mateo and me and then work their way back through the crowd.
I sigh in relief when they leave. “Okay. I really need a drink now.”
We head to the bar, order, and find a spot at the end to sip our drinks in peace while watching the crowd.
“I really needed this tonight,” I say over the noise. Mateo moves closer to hear what I’m saying.
“Continued trouble in paradise?” he asks around a drink, lifting his brows.
“You could say that.”
The club gets more packed by the minute, and soon bodies are pressed in all around us. Disappointed at the lack of privacy, I move away, thinking Mateo will follow. But he’s watching the crowd, moving his body to the beat of the music, totally oblivious to my exit.
He probably wants to dance and mingle and find his hookup for the night. My need to vent about my personal life is obviously holding him back. I hug a wall and sip the rest of my drink, and he finally makes his way over to me after getting another drink and double fisting it.
“So tell me what the hot asshole is up to now,” he says.
“Luka?” Silly of me to ask. Who else would he be talking about? “Well, what do you want to hear about first? How he humiliated me at the Danica Rose launch party, or ruined my first ever national shoot by being a raging dick to the photographer and the stylist?”
“Ooh, raging dick. My favorite. That one first.”
I tell him how he acted in front of Hans and Ady and the assistant. “He refused to let me wear the vintage lingerie. And then he flipped out when the photographer suggested I go nude.”
His eyes flash. “Nude, huh? Sounds like he’s a bit jealous at the thought of you stripping in front of someone else.”
I roll my eyes. “There were three people there, and they were all professionals.”
Mateo shivers. “Sound like my kind of fun. So, what did you end up wearing?”
Setting my empty glass on a table, I say, “After my hair and makeup was done, Luka wrapped me in a silk robe, like one of those old-fashioned Oriental ones, and set me on the couch. He opened it just enough to bareoneof my shoulders. How scandalous, right?
“And then?”
“Nothing. That’s it. I got to bare one shoulder.”
“What about later? Did you bare anything else when you got home? The caveman thing can be a pretty big turn-on…” He takes a long suck on his straw, eyeing me with hope.
I laugh. “You’re terrible. No, Mateo, nothing when we got home. I was too pissed to even think about it. I wanted to punch him in the face.”
I want to tell him about angry limo sex, but I don’t. His eyes are glassy, and he’s got that excited edge he gets when he’s on the prowl. Just like with Luka, sex is Mateo’s main motivator.
“I bet he likes it when you’re mad.” Mat winks at me. His eyes narrow as if he’s reading my mind about angry limo sex. “I also bet Luka is a beast when he’s pissed. Probably just throws you down and fucks you silly until he gets all that hot rage out.”
Okay. That’s the end of my night. When Mat gets like this, I turn him loose to go have some fun before his balls explode, or else all that sexual energy of his gets directed at me. Disappointment fills me. This was fun, and I’m glad I got to blow off a little steam on the dance floor, but it wasn’t quite the one-on-one time I needed.
“I’m gonna ago,” I tell Mateo, gesturing toward the exit.
“Hey,” he says, grabbing my shoulder. “Let me just throw this out there. I amall into be the filling in an angry Luka-and-Brooklyn sandwich. I’ll do the filling; I’ll take the filling. Whatever, I don’t care. Just let me know if you ever want to open things up for a third party.”
