“What is this?” I ask.
“Just seeing how you fit next to me,” he answers breezily.
Weird. But okay.
“And now if you’ll just turn toward me,” he says.
I do as he asks so we’re now face to face. I find myself looking up at him because I can’t not. Those sexy eyes slanted a touch at the corners, his lips parted just so. I know how he looks when he’s fucking, when he’s close to orgasm, when he comes. A shiver runs through me.
Just when I’m about to lose my willpower from the intoxicating scent of his damn spicy cologne, he steps back and gestures that I should return to my chair. Taking out his cellphone, he types something into it and then puts it away. Then he leans against the desk and puts on a Prince Charming smile.
“Ms. Moss, one more question.”
I sit, already wondering what kind of nonsense he’s going to ask next. “Go ahead.”
“How do you feel about marriage?”
Brooklyn
Chapter 5
How do I even respond to that?
My mind goes blank.
“M-marriage?” I stutter. “I mean, my focus is on modeling. Is this for some kind of reality show or something? Because I’m not really interested in that kind of thing.”
“It’s not for television. It’s for me.” Luka spreads his hands and I feel my jaw drop. He just smirks. “Not what you were expecting when you came here today, was it?”
That’s an understatement. I had no idea I’d run into him again, despite half hoping I would, and I certainly never imagined he’d be more or less proposing we get hitched.
“You’re right,” I stammer. “I was expecting to audition for a job. Or a contract.”
He clears his throat. “It is a job, if you want to look at it that way.”
I blink at him, still not quite comprehending what he’s offering.
“I know this is a lot to take in,” he says. “But you may find the arrangement to be to your benefit. Perhaps we should discuss it in more detail over dinner. At my penthouse.”
His cheeky smile throws me off-center. It’s the same self-confident, alluring grin that shattered all my defenses three years ago—and the lust that’s been teasing me since I walked in here comes at me full force. It’s awake and alive. If I’m not careful, I’m going to give it free rein.
I’m so torn, but I’m also so intrigued. Plus, I can’t help feeling like I owe it to myself to explore exactly what he’s offering. “I’ll do dinner, but not at your penthouse.”
His eyes drop to my lips. “Fair enough. Meet at Luciana’s at eight?”
It’s a small Italian restaurant, popular with locals and fiercely guarded from tourists. Though the food is incredible, it’s not a five-star restaurant—but still fancy enough to be labeled a date-night destination.
This isn’t a date, I remind myself. It’s a business meeting.
And I am definitely, for sure, one hundred percent not going home with Luka Zoric.
“Sure,” I say.
I’m not going down that road again. This time, my interactions with him will be purely professional. I know better than to accept private auditions, and then offer up my body in exchange for some sweetly placed false words. I’m older now. Stronger and wiser, and come hell or high water, I’m not giving in to the extreme need for Luka’s touch. Even if it kills me.
The only thing I need is to get signed by Danica Rose so I can step into the next phase of my life.
There. I’ve already decided how this evening is going to go. I stand and slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder. Then I extend my hand to where he’s still standing beside the desk. He takes it with a raise of his brows.
“Thank you so much. I’ll see you tonight at eight.”
I turn on my heel and leave, not giving him a chance to reply, forcing myself to walk confidently even though I want to race out of there and rush home to figure out the perfect outfit. I walk into the waiting area only to find it empty. I look around, as if the other models might be hiding behind potted plants or in one of the glass-walled conference rooms, but I see nobody.
The receptionist is still here, typing away on her computer. I consider asking what happened to the others, but I decide not to.
I don’t really care.
As I ride the elevator back down to the lobby, my mind starts racing all over again. I have a non-date with the ex-one-time-lover who ghosted me. No, scratch that way of thinking. I have a business meeting with an agency professional who can make my career.
But he said marriage. He can’t possibly mean like marriage-marriage, can he? I’m both incredibly nervous and curious to find out—but the most nerve-wracking thing of all is being alone with Luka.
I take an Uber to Wicker Park and resist calling Mateo as soon as I step inside the apartment and find that he’s gone. I know he’ll want all the details, and I’m too nervous to talk about it right now. Besides, tonight is the real substance of this whole thing. I’ll call him after my dinner with Luka so he can talk me off a ledge if need be.
After I change into yoga pants and a hoodie, I stop by Heart and Home’s main operations center to help sort donations and then make a Starbucks run for the admins who work so hard in the office. They’re used to seeing me pop in at random hours, especially since I’ve moved back to Chicago, and I’m happy for the distraction…although Luka is never far from my thoughts. Still a mix of giddy and anxious, I grab a quick lunch and then take a long walk in Humboldt Park to burn off some adrenaline, soaking up the weather and the dog-watching along the way. Then I head back home. Mateo’s still out. Time to get ready.
Even though I showered this morning, I’ve had the longest day ever, so I pull my hair up into a bun and take another. The hot water relaxes me and helps me center myself. Then I take my time doing my makeup and styling my hair. It probably doesn’t really matter what I look like for this meeting, but I can’t help fussing—it’s just my nature.
In the end, I opt for a nude look with a little bronzer on my already golden skin, some pale pink cheek tint, and a kiss of clear gloss on my lips. After getting frustrated with my inability to pull off a sexy-messy French twist, I decide to just let my hair fall however it wants, adding some Argon oil for shine, and then slip into a simple navy blue wrap dress. It shows just a little cleavage, but the hem falls past the knee, so it’s both sexy and professional—exactly what I’m going for. As much as I’d love to have Luka desire me so I can turn him down, I don’t want to give off a “sleep with me” vibe, either.
He’s already at Luciana’s when I arrive. The hostess leads me past a roped-off doorway to a private table on the patio, tucked into a corner with a green wrought iron fence behind it, towering hibiscus flowers blooming between the rails. I wonder if he paid the restaurant extra to keep the patio blocked off just for us tonight, or if they did it for him as a favor.
He stands as I approach, a gentlemanly touch I’m not expecting, and his smile is warm. Kind, even.
“Brooklyn Moss,” he says. “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too.” As if there was any chance I’d cop out.