flipped a switch inside her. Her haughty scowl retreats, replaced by a self-satisfied grin she didn’t have before.
Ladies and gentlemen, Monica Shore. A woman who loves to be watched. Who loves to cater to an audience.
She’s always been good at putting on a show.
As the shoot finally starts to wrap up, the photographer announces to the crew that there’s a dinner reservation set for tonight that Guy arranged for everyone.
“And it’s on Maxilene, so you all better make the most of your drink tabs!” he says, drawing a few cheers.
I’m not really in the mood to spend my limited quantity of free time with the same people I haven’t been able to get a break from in God knows how long. The only thing I want to do now is take a hot shower, change my clothes, and order in room service.
Turning away from the gondolas, I loosen my tie and point myself in the direction of the nearest elevator. Unfortunately, I don’t get far.
“Luka!” Monica’s squeal grates on my last nerve.
Glancing over my shoulder, I try to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Yes?”
As she rushes up to me, she bats her eyes like a pathetic, injured animal. “Are you going to the dinner later?”
“Eh, I was actually planning to skip it—”
Ignoring my response, she leans in close, running one hand over my chest while adjusting my tie with the other. “Because I would love to have you accompany me tonight.”
I’m torn. It’s been a relentless day. But the lure of a stiff drink is calling me. I could go, order a whiskey sour, do some schmoozing. Better than sitting in my room alone, and I could leave after an hour or so. I’m just about to respond when someone tugs at my other arm.
Turning, I find Brooklyn standing there, looking like a goddess. She’s in a modest sun dress, dark hair loose around her shoulders, fresh off the plane judging by the rolling suitcase she’s got with her. To me, she looks like she’s glowing, even standing next to Monica with all her heavy makeup, professionally poofed hair, and red-and-white striped bodycon dress.
“Actually,” Brooklyn cuts in, “he’s going with me tonight.”
Monica’s mouth pinches. “Maybe we can all go together, then,” she chirps, linking her arm through mine so I’ve got one woman clinging to me on each side.
“Mmm, I don’t think so,” Brooklyn says sweetly. “I expect Luka and I will be a bit late…he hasn’t given me the private tour of our suite yet.” My wife lets out a suggestive little giggle and my scalp prickles at the warm tone of her voice.
“I can think of nothing I’d rather do than give you that tour,” I tell her, a huge grin splitting my face. I can’t believe Brooklyn is really here. Her timing is impeccable. “The restaurant isn’t going anywhere.”
Monica lets go of my arm and has the decency to back up so I can wrap my wife in both arms. She pulls my face down to hers and I lose myself in a long kiss, completely forgetting about Monica and just about everything else going on around us.
Finally, I pull away. “Ready?”
“So ready,” Brooklyn says. She gives a little wave to Monica. “You know how us newlyweds are. Have to sneak in the alone time every chance we get. See you later!”
I wrap my arm around her, grab her suitcase, and spin her away from the daggers I’m sure Monica is throwing with her eyes.
When we’re out of earshot, Brooklyn turns to me, her expression more serious. “Looks like I just saved your image, as usual. You’re welcome.”
“My image?” I parrot back.
She lifts a brow. “I’m sorry, did you not just have Monica Shore sticking to you like white on rice? That sure as hell isn’t going to help the latest PR nightmare, or have you missed all the gossip on social media? Please tell me she hasn’t been like this since you got here.”
I don’t say anything, mind still a little blown that she’s even here to begin with.
She tilts her head and looks up at me with her eyes narrowed, as if she already knows the answer. “Really, Luka, what would Stefan say? It’s lucky I got here when I did.”
As if her arrival has everything to do with maintaining my reputation and nothing else.
“He’d probably say something unrepeatable about how sinfully good you look,” I tell her, letting my gaze linger as it glides over her body. “And I couldn’t agree more.”
As