The server, who has been waiting patiently this whole time, gestures at the dish and gives us another rundown, spooning sauce along the branches as he talks. I have no idea how we’re supposed to utilize this to our advantage. Apparently, it’s some exotic bean and sassafras pâté sandwiched between celery root, chervil, and sumac crackers served over fresh juniper. When the server walks away, we all exchange perplexed glances.
“Screw it, I’m using my hands,” Tori finally says, reaching for one of the cracker sandwiches. She takes a bite and grins as she chews, clearly enjoying whatever it is.
Emzee and I join in, and soon enough we’ve devoured the course in all its bizarre deliciousness. As out of my element as I am, this whole concept is kind of fun.
Next, we’re served huge round plates with intricate Moroccan-style designs around a painting of a cow’s head. At the tip of the cow’s nose is a tall, round pastry holding a soft filling. Some herbs poke out of the top, and two smears of paste on the plate resemble yellow petals.
I poke at the food without thinking. “Who’s down to hit up the nearest Taco Bell on our way out of here?” I cut through my pastry and take a bite. They both laugh.
Emzee takes a long drink of her wine and then shakes her head slowly at me. “You’re actually really funny. And fun. I feel like I was completely wrong about you.”
“In what way?” I ask, keeping my tone light, not sure I’ll like what she has to say.
Crossing her arms at the edge of the table as she chews, Emzee regards me and my apprehension grows. “I guess, when I first met you,” she says, “I assumed you were like all the rest of my brother’s harem.”
Tori puts down her fork and looks between us, her mouth puckering as if she’s concerned about what her sister-in-law might say.
“Every woman he’s with ends up using him,” Emzee says. “Money, photo shoots, contracts, that kind of thing. And probably sex, but I don’t even want to think about that.” She grimaces in disgust.
“Emzee,” Tori chirps, overly cheerful. “Why don’t we tell Brooklyn about that cool avant-garde florist shop you found on Insta—”
But Emzee’s already picked up where she left off. “You’re different, though. He actually seems—and this is insane to me, only because it’s Luka—but he actually seems invested in this marriage. In you. I didn’t think he’d last a week before breaking off this engagement, but…”
Our server is back with a helper this time, and they start clearing our plates. Then they set down what looks like a chunk cut from a log. The top is smooth and glossy, the center hollowed out and holding a single, hot coal. Three pieces of meat on skewers sit on top of the coal. Other finger-food type items are arranged around the outside. Emzee wastes no time digging in.
“The thing about Luka is,” she says between bites, “he never had any stable female relationships growing up. Our mom was gone. We had plenty of nannies, but they were all temporary, and our dad sure didn’t keep any women around long enough to get attached to.
“Point is, I know Luka can be a real dick, and I’m not trying to excuse him, but he never had a solid relationship in his life to look at and learn from. I don’t expect you to understand and I’m not going to explain it any more than I have. But I can see that you’re different in a way that counts to my brother…so it counts with me, too. Even if this whole thing was arranged by Stefan and has, oh, a ninety-percent chance of being a disaster.” She laughs.
I’m reeling from Emzee’s words, my chest gone tight. I don’t know how to respond.
Tori circles her fork in Emzee’s direction. “Need I remind you that myownarranged marriage started out as my dad trying to land me a Zoric?”
“You guys had an arranged marriage, too?” I ask, totally floored by this revelation.
“Yup,” Tori says. “And it’s turned out fine.”
“Has it?” Emzee teases. As she grins at me, I realize she’s accepted me into the fold, as much as she can, I suspect. Warmth floods through me, pushing out the doubts I had earlier.
“Yes, it has!” Tori says. “I didn’t expect to fall for Stefan. We went into our marriage with our own goals in mind, and they had nothing to do with love.” She takes a bite of food and savors it before continuing. “Just goes to show, you never know when love will find you.”
“Right now, I’m just worried about Luka keeping his nose out of my photo shoots,” I say.
Falling in love with Luka? I can’t imagine our relationship will ever develop to that point. We have attraction, sure. Okay, fine, it’s lust. But love is a whole other part of the brain, and the heart. Changing the subject is the only way I know to not think about that right now.
“Oh, do tell,” Tori says. “How have the jobs been going, by the way?”
Our conversation turns to my latest modeling gigs and Luka’s domineering alpha mentality in making sure everything goes his way during each shoot. By the time our dessert course of freeze-dried fruit, chocolate mousse, and various edible flowers arranged on a slab of rock arrives, I feel light and warm and completely included.
Tori and Emzee like me. They believe in me and in my ability to help DRM’s image. I’m on the right track, I’m a player in this game, and I’mthis closeto having the career of my dreams.
And maybe things will progress with Luka in a way I never thought possible.
My driver arrives and I give Tori and Emzee hugs, feeling more optimistic and energized than I have in weeks. Slipping into the back seat, I realize that I really might have it all.
Now, if I can only keep Luka in check at my next photo shoot, things will be perfect.
Brooklyn
