“Listen,” Guy says. “I need to get going, but I’m heading back to LA this week to meet with the team, and rest assured, you’re going to be very happy with our decision. Thanks for the lunch and the talk. I’ll be in touch.”
“Don’t mention it, man.”
He holds out his hand with a grin, and we shake.
There’s no doubt in my mind that the campaign is definitely going to Brooklyn.
Luka
Chapter 1
Brooklyn is packing in a fury. She storms around the penthouse grabbing her things, carrying clothes and toiletries and everything else into the guest room where her two suitcases lie open on the bed. She’s still in her black gown from the Maxilene event, her heels making sharp clicks on the hardwood floor. She hasn’t spoken to me since we got home.
Meanwhile I’m standing in the hall, not wanting to invade her space but not wanting to walk away either. All I can do is watch my wife pack, and rack my brain trying to remember my conversations with the Maxilene rep. What did I say that caused him to choose Monica Shore over my wife for the biggest campaign the company has ever planned to launch?
I would have bet my life on Brooklyn clinching this. I had no idea that when I opened that envelope to publicly announce the new face of Maxilene that I’d pull out a card with Monica’s name written on it. What the hell happened? Where did I go wrong?
Our greyhound, Mr. Kibbles, sits by Brooklyn’s feet. His gaze shifts back and forth between us as she hastily folds some clothes, then loses patience and shoves them into the suitcase in a messy pile. I haven’t fully processed what she’s doing yet. Logically Iknowwhat she’s doing because I’m watching her from the doorway, but it hasn’t completely sunk in.
She’s leaving me.
And…she’s taking our dog.
Mr. Kibbles whines and slinks over to me for a pat on the head. He knows something is up, too, but my touch does little to comfort him. The anger radiating off Brooklyn has both the dog and me tied in knots. I’ve seen her angry before, furious even, but not like this.
This is something else entirely.
“Please,” I say gently. “Talk to me. Say something.”
“What do you want me to say? That I know you’re a liar? The same liar you’ve always been?” she says, her voice deadly calm. “I swear to God, Luka, every time I put my trust in you, I get stabbed in the back!Every time! I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit again.”
She turns away in disgust. Her words have gutted me.
“I swear, I don’t know what happened.”
As she zips up a suitcase, she shouts over her shoulder, “You let me think I had this campaign! You told me they agreed I was perfect for it. When all along, you were conspiring with Monica against me. I can’t think of anything more cruel.”
“That’s not—I swear, I didn’t conspire with anybody.”
“Oh no?” She zips up the second suitcase, and whirls around to glare at me.
I run a hand over my mouth. “Listen, I know it looks bad—”
Brooklyn laughs sarcastically. “No. I’m done ‘listening’ to you. I should have seen this coming, actually. You’re the one who told me the company was in dire straits. That’s why you signed Monica, isn’t it? You knew Maxilene could save DRM’s ass from going under, and you figured she was your best bet at getting the campaign. Did you even pitch meat all?”
“Of course I did,” I insist. “I pushed harder for you than anyone else.”
“Oh, I’m sure. And now we can see the results of all your hard work.”
She pulls the bags to the floor and starts wheeling them toward me.
“It was a mistake to put my career in your hands, Luka. I’ve worked my ass off for years trying to get somewhere, and then you came along with all your big promises and somehow managed to convince me that you actually intended to keep them. But you never keep your promises, do you? You’ve been pulling the bait-and-switch with me since the first time we met.”
I can’t even defend myself. Because what she’s saying has the cold ring of truth. The first time I set eyes on Brooklyn, years ago, I promised her an exclusive modeling contract just to get her into bed. And now, with our marriage contract, it looks like I’ve done the exact same thing all over again.
Stepping aside to let Brooklyn pass, I watch her make her way across the living room, toward the entryway of the apartment. Mr. Kibbles is following her, whining softly.
“I should have known better than to trust a Zoric,” Brooklyn hisses.
