I spread my hands in a gesture of uncertainty. Why does he think I would know? My sole experience with KZ Modeling consists of the one-night stand I had with Luka years ago—during which he made false promises of a contract in order to get me in bed. And there lies the beginning and end of my interaction with KZM.
By all accounts, the Zorics have recently gone full speed ahead in trying to clean up their image publicly, starting with a name change and a rebranding campaign. But as much of a douche as Luka is, I can’t see him or his family carrying on with any sex trafficking now that their patriarch is in prison. I’m sure they’re fully committed to keeping their hands clean.
“They seem to be on the up-and-up,” I say. “I wouldn’t know the full details, of course.”
Austin dips his head. “Of course.” He pulls a document from a folder on his desk and sets it facedown on the top. “KZ Modeling, or should I say Danica Rose Management, is exceptionally vulnerable right now. With all the bad PR and a slew of models breaking their contracts with the company, they’re going to have a difficult time staying afloat. In fact, their first quarter returns were frankly pretty dismal. You’ve heard about all of that, I’m sure.”
“I have,” I admit. “Though the majority of the models were happy to sign on with Danica Rose under new terms. I imagine they’ll bounce back eventually.”
Austin shrugs. “Who’s to say? Their future is very uncertain. Uncertain enough that another agency could swoop in right now and take them over. Buy the company outright. Wouldn’t you think?”
“It’s possible,” I say noncommittally.
The truth is, I don’t really know. I’m not in the habit of spending my time pondering the financial health of the modeling agencies back in my hometown. I have no idea why Austin is talking to me about this. I have zero connection to the Zorics. At the same time, as strange as this interview is, I don’t want to come across to him as indifferent.
“Is this buyout something Elite is interested in?” I ask, watching his face for a tell.
“It’s possible,” he echoes me. He gets up and walks to the huge windows, looking out at the view of the Hollywood Hills, pacing casually like this whole conversation is no big deal. But I know I’ve hit the mark. He’s being pretty obvious. “Could you still get a contract with them?”
My heart lurches again. “Maybe. Though it wouldn’t make much sense, honestly. I’m in LA now and I don’t plan on moving back to Chicago any time soon.”
Austin frowns as he turns back toward me. “That’s too bad. I see something special in you. And if you were to, say, work your way back into KZ—I mean, Danica Rose—and gather valuable information…information that could be used to assist in a takeover…well, you wouldn’t just be special anymore. You’d be Maxilene-special.”
I don’t get a chance to even consider a response as he continues, “Elite will take over Danica Rose with or without your help, Brooklyn. But it will go smoother, faster, and a lot more painless with someone on the inside. Especially if we’re able to make them an informed offer.”
I frown. “I—”
“I’ve read your CV,” he interrupts, walking closer. “Come on. You’ve been pounding the pavement for years. You should be national by now. You’ve got the look, the experience, the attitude. Let us help you. A face like yours is one DRM will take a second look at.”
He flips over the paper on his desk and I take a look. It’s a short summary of the Maxilene campaign…with a lot of dollar signs attached to it. I flick my gaze to his. Austin is smiling as if he’s known all along that I couldn’t turn my back on something this good.
“Are you going to go back to your old agency and be a nobody forever, Brooklyn? Or are you going to finally make a name for yourself? Tell me you’re in.”
No, I don’t want to go back to my old agency. I outgrew them a long time ago. I want more. I want bigger. Better.
I want Maxilene.
I slide the paper back to him as I rise and smooth the front of my dress. Lifting my chin, I try not to let my conscience in. There will be plenty of time for that later.
My mind is made up.
With a cool smile I tell him, “I’ll see what I can do.”
Luka
Chapter 1
She betrayed me. My wife betrayed me.
As I storm through the suite, hands at my temples, my stomach roils at the thought of the devastating message I received from Monica Shore this morning. I can’t stop turning the truth of it over in my mind. Brooklyn has been lying to me all along. And now I’m on my honeymoon with a deceitful, backstabbing liar who planned to sell me and my family out to Elite Image.
They’re not just the competition—they’re our agency’s nemesis. For years, Elite has monopolized all the top talent in the modeling industry, raking in new clients with hardly any effort and scalping all the highest-earning models off of other companies whenever they get the chance. Now that they’ve got their sights set on DRM, I know they’ll stop at nothing to buy us out. It’s no secret that our agency is struggling—but it still feels like a knife to the gut knowing that my wife planned to hand us over on a platter to their vile CEO, Austin Spears.
I don’t know what makes me more enraged: that I never saw this coming, or that I’d actually started to develop feelings for Brooklyn. Both accounts remind me that I’m an idiot. Especially considering the fact that I’ve been with plenty of women before, and I know exactly how they act once they find out who I am and what I can do for them. I should have known.
In the end, one thing’s for certain, though—my heart and my judgement can’t be trusted. Weighing people’s integrity isn’t something I’ve had to do often, I guess, and it shows. Instead of being the decent person she presented herself as, she’s nothing more than a self-serving manipulator.
I try to remind myself that I’m no saint, that I can’t turn my nose up too far. I’ve certainly had sex with women for my own purposes. But the difference between me and my wife is that Brooklyn was malicious enough to actually go out of her way to make me feel something real for her. At least in my case, I never tried to deceive the women I bedded into developing feelings for me. I made it clear that I expected nothing beyond a good lay and some discretion after the fact. I’d say it turned out pretty well for me.
Yet thanks to Brooklyn, I’m now trapped in this decadent Parisian honeymoon suite with the last woman on Earth I want to be with. I never should have gotten close to her. I can’t even look at her, even though I can feel her eyes on me and she won’t stop sniffling as if she’s holding back tears. More manipulation, I’m sure. Women are good at playing the crying game. I’ve never fallen for it in the past, and I’m sure as hell not about to start now.
“Luka, please,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. “I wasn’t going to go through with it. I swear. I destroyed that contract; I had no intention of holding up my end.”
“Hmm.”
Refusing to respond beyond that, I continue gathering up her things from the bedroom as she follows me around making excuse after excuse.