Draining my flute, I set it on the tray of a passing waiter and snag another. I can play my hand one of two ways. I can let him seduce me and use it to arm my way into an audition at KZ Modeling—and finally get the chance with them that I’ve been working toward. Or I can keep my dignity and wait for them to notice me for the strength of my work, not who I slept with.
My parents disapprove of my modeling career, and the least I can do for my mama is keep my dignity. Even if I want to climb Luka Zoric like a tree. Even if merely standing next to him is intoxicating.
“Look,” I say, making up my mind. “I know how this works. And I can’t go to bed with you. So if that’s all you’re after, then it’s only fair you know it upfront.” I raise my champagne to him and smile, hoping to take the edge off my rejection.
“Ouch.” He puts an unconvincing hand over his heart, but the glint in his eye tells me that sex is, in fact, exactly what he’s after. “You mistake my intentions, milady.”
“Do I?” I cock an eyebrow, wishing I wasn’t so turned on by this sexy scoundrel.
“Indeed,” he says, and then tips back the last of his champagne. “Just to sate my curiosity though, why can’t you sleep with me?”
“Because I want to get signed by your agency, and I’m planning to audition at the next open call. Sleeping with you before that would only make things messy. Besides, I’m not here to screw my way into a contract. I’m a hard-working professional and I handle myself accordingly.” I lift my chin and gaze fiercely at him.
The left corner of his mouth twitches up right before he catches my eyes. “You’re an honorable woman, Brooklyn Moss. I can respect that.”
With the barest of a nod, he sets his empty flute on a table, turns his back to me, and walks away. My stomach lurches a little as I watch him go. Did I just drop a huge opportunity? I almost want to call him back or hurry after him.
Sex. With Luka Zoric. God. I can’t even begin to imagine what that would be like. If only I could keep my professional aspirations out of it.
Trying to put the encounter behind me, I start to make my way through the crowd. I barely get across the roof when I feel a light touch on my elbow. I turn and find Luka there, his eyes searching my face.
“A word?”
“Sure,” I say with a nod.
He draws me away from the crowd with a hand on my lower back, and I let him lead me, trying to ignore the hot pulse between my legs.
Then his finger is lifting my chin as he stares greedily at me. “Look, since you were honest, I’ll be honest too. I want to fuck you. That alone is a good indicator that you’re KZM material, but since I have a feeling you want to do this the right way, how about a private audition, right now?”
I’m incredibly turned on by him saying he wants to fuck me, but I force myself to focus on the opportunity he’s just offered me. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
There’s something in his eyes that draws me in and steals my rational thought. Minutes later I find myself in his Bugatti, speeding down the highway and back to the event center that held the fashion show. It feels like a dream, or maybe it’s the two glasses of champagne in fake crystal flutes that I consumed. But this whole thing feels as if it’s happening to someone else. He flips on a few lights in the auditorium, then holds my hand while I step up onto the runway…and stand there, waiting for his instructions and trying not to pinch myself to see if this is real.
I’m doubly glad I’m still in the designer dress, because never in my life did I expect to have an immediate audition with my dream agency.
Luka takes a seat right next to the stage and sets his cellphone on his lap, gazing up at me with a serious expression.
“Let’s have you walk to the main stage and then back to me, please.”
I swallow hard, hoping like hell that I don’t wobble in my heels, and then do as he asks. I make a tight spin when I turn back toward him, one hand on my hip, my other arm moving just right as I strut. I clear my mind, stare into the distance, get in the zone. Even with the champagne making my movements a little loose and languid, I know I’m on point. My heels are loud in the empty room.
“Good. Good.” He pauses and I hope he can’t hear how hard I’m breathing. “Do one more turn for me right here.”
I turn, knowing full well that he’s getting a front row view of my ass from where he’s sitting, but too caught up in the audition to worry about it. He snaps a picture. “That’s perfect. How about both hands on your hips?”
I do as he asks, and he takes more pictures. As he waves me back down the runway, I get little direction, so I help him out—pausing at intervals for photos and flashing my subtly amused half-smile, my sultry scowl, my look of otherworldly distraction. I’ve been doing this for years, and I have all my looks down pat.
Even so, I’m getting the impression that he’s not well-versed in auditions. At least, I’ve never been bumbled through one quite like this before. When I stop before him again, he runs a hand through his hair and looks up at me.
There’s a pause that makes me nervous. Is this real, or was he simply baiting me to get what he wants?
“Do you want my vitals?” I suggest. When he hesitates, I clarify, “My measurements.”
His face lights up. “I do. Yes.”
I give them to him as he types the numbers into his phone. “Anything else you want to know? My resume, where I live?”
He circles a hand in the air. “All of it. Yes. Of course.”
I give him the rundown and cross my arms as I speak. My hopes are getting dashed by the second—it’s obvious I know more about the business than he does, and that says a lot, considering that he’s a Zoric. But then he comes up on the stage and takes my hands in his, a confident smile robbing my breath. His cologne smells amazing and I imagine myself pressed up against that hard chest, running my hands inside his tux.
“Brooklyn Moss, there is no doubt in my mind—everyone is going to know your face. And your name. If you sign an exclusive contract with KZM, I’ll make your career.” His voice is strong and even and he sounds sincere. “I’m not just saying that to get in your pants, either.”
Holy shit, he’s giving me a contract! I touch his chest, lay my palm flat against it as if I’m compelled. “So you’re saying you don’t want to get into my pants?” I say.
He grips my wrist gently and my body breaks out in shivers. “Oh no, I definitely want to have sex with you. But that’s absolutely beside the point.”
“Well then, Luka Zoric,” I say, our eyes locking. “I think you’d better take me home.”
Brooklyn
Chapter 3
Three Years Ago
Luka takes me to his million-dollar penthouse in River North and all I can think of is how nervous I am.
I’m no innocent, but the truth is, I’ve never had a man of his prestige and stature interested in me. Sure, I attract men. Some older, some wealthy. Some young and dirt poor. But I’ve never felt such an enigmatic pull to any man the way I do to Luka Zoric. Maybe it’s because he’s going to launch my career—finally! Maybe it’s because he’s pure masculine perfection, or because of the way he’s had my pulse racing since the very first words that came out of his mouth. I don’t know. All I know for sure is, I don’t want to overthink this or talk myself out of it.