I don’t know why my dad’s voice is so strong in my mind lately, but his words ring true. And I’ve learned from both of my parents that the more you rely on people, the more destroyed you are when they leave you in the end. My mom died when I was four and my relationships with women have been complicated ever since. And my father? I can’t believe I spent my life secretly hungering for his approval. He’s more than just a criminal—he’s a monster. I guess I should be glad he was never around when I was a kid. The last thing I’d want to do is follow in his footsteps.
Settling back into my desk chair, I answer a few client emails, but I can already tell this work day is shot. I need to get my head in the game before my inbox eats me alive, but I can’t stop thinking about my wife—this is exactly what I’ve been worried about.
Getting attached to Brooklyn is playing with fire.
The truth is, I do feel guilty for signing Monica. I shouldn’t. By all accounts, she’s an asset to DRM. This was a good business move, and I know she’ll raise our profile, provide some good PR by reminding the public that we’re a legitimate agency, and rake in a nice commission for us along the way. But I can’t shake the feeling that this is the worst thing I could have done to Brooklyn—and our relationship. I wouldn’t be surprised if Monica’s got something sneaky up her sleeve, too. The whole situation has been too good to be true from the start.
Oh, fuck this. I can’t keep second-guessing myself. What’s done is done. Maybe I can find a way to make it up to Brooklyn and smooth things over, but now isn’t the time to worry about it. I have a conference call in a few minutes and I need to look over some notes. Meanwhile, Brooklyn is at a photoshoot this morning for a luxury hotelier, and it’s the first time I won’t be there to supervise. I left very explicit instructions with the photographer, and I’m sure it will go well. She knows better than to stray from the image I’ve created for her.
Sweet. Wholesome. Innocent.
Thinking of her thick-lashed, dark eyes and those lush lips curved into a squeaky clean, girl-next-door smile, my brain suddenly strays to the last night we had sex, and how amazing it was. Our bodies were connected, totally in sync, but it was more than that. It was like we were the only two people in the world, like I’d finally found something safe and solid—with her.
God, I’m an idiot.
I can’t believe I actually let myself—
“Mr. Zoric?”
My office door opens a crack and my assistant, Damien, pops his head in.
“What is it?” I say, sounding a little more peevish than I’d like.
He points at the phone on my desk, which I now realize has a red light blinking on the display. “Your conference call’s on line four. They’re waiting.”
“Shit, thanks,” I tell him, grabbing the phone and wedging it between my shoulder and ear. “It might be a while, so go ahead and take a long lunch. On me.”
I flip open my wallet and hand him a few bills, then wave him out of the office. The kid smiles as he heads out. He’s barely out of business school and there are days I run him ragged, so I owe him a little break here and there. “Thanks, boss.”
Punching the button for line four, I get on the call with a breezy, “Luka Zoric.”
Before I know it, it’s well past two p.m. and I’ve got a brand-new athleisure brand’s first major campaign to cast. I’m about to take a well-earned break to go grab something to eat when a shadow outside my door grabs my attention. My chest feels lighter as Brooklyn strides in.
She’s wearing black skinny jeans that look painted on, and a billowy white blouse that hangs off one shoulder. Her hair is windswept and loose, and remnants of dark makeup circle her eyes. I get the impression she tried to wipe it off but then left the smudges for me to see.
She smiles warmly and sets a bag of Thai takeout on my desk.
My pulse picks up and I feel a weight lift off me at her presence. It’s almost as if I’ve willed her here. I’m happy to see her. And a little touched that she thought to bring me lunch.
“What are you doing here?” I ask gruffly.
Her smile doesn’t waver. “I thought you might be hungry. I figured you must have averyfull day since you couldn’t make it to my shoot this morning, and seeing as how you’re so involved with managing all my business, I figured you’d want all the details.”
She’s up to something, but my growling stomach won’t let me sleuth just now.
“Thanks.” I pop open a box of glass noodles and start digging in. “What details?”
She sets down her to-go cup of iced tea and sits across from me, crossing her legs loosely as she tossed her hair over one shoulder.
“They decided to go in a different direction than what you discussed,” she says.
Mid-bite, I set my fork down, my stomach clenching. “In what way, exactly? The hotel’s tagline is ‘Get away from your every day,’ so how much different could the direction be?”
She pauses to dig around in her bag and then holds out a USB stick toward me. “For your approval, here are the new images of my—I mean,your—body.”
I take the stick and lean over to plug it into my computer’s USB port, my blood pressure skyrocketing. “Tell me what’s on here.”
“You’ll see.” Shrugging, she adds, “I thought I should show you right away, before you heard about it from someone else.”
