now, and I don’t think we’d bounce back from a loss like that.”
“Luka,” Emzee scolds.
“It’s not just about the money either,” I go on. “We have to think about the agency’s PR status—in case you’ve forgotten, we’re still trying to save face in the industry. Firing Monica and losing Maxilene would hurt us more than it would help us.”
My sister gets back up on the stool and lets her shoulders slump. “I guess you’re right.”
I catch her eye and the sympathy there makes me all the more anxious. What if something’s happened to my wife? And we’re just sitting here moping around, doing nothing?
“Are you sure we shouldn’t call the police and file a missing person’s report?” I wonder out loud. “What if this is worse than we think?”
Em shakes her head, her voice soft and even. “I think she’s just lying low right now. She felt really guilty over this, Luka. Like it’s explicitly her fault. I imagine she’s taking some time to lick her wounds and woman up before she can face you. Just give her some time.”
We don’t have time. We need to handle this now, to create a united front against Monica and the firestorm she’s created. I’m too jittery to sit, so I go to the floor-to-ceiling windows in the living room and look out at the city below. The view usually calms me, but not today.
“Oh fuck,” Emzee blurts from across the room.
I look over to see her staring down at her phone, and my mouth goes dry.
“What is it? Just tell me.”
She shakes her head and opens my laptop. “Get over here and load up the TMZ site. You’re going to want to see this.”
By the time I get over there, she’s already opened up my web browser and navigated to the gossip site. My stomach bottoms out as I see my wife on the screen getting ready to do a live feed, seated in a chair across from an entertainment news reporter, both of them with lav mics clipped to their collars. Brooklyn wears a pale pink blouse, her dark hair pulled back in a bun, with just a touch of makeup. Even with the serious expression on her face, she still manages to look stunning.
The ticker at the bottom of the screen flashes: BROOKLYN MOSS ZORIC TO MAKE LIVE STATEMENT IN RESPONSE TO RECENT ALLEGATIONS.
My ears start ringing, my vision tunneling. “Oh shit,” I murmur.
I feel Emzee’s arm go around my shoulder, and I turn up the volume as desperation wells inside me. Because I know my wife, and I know exactly what she’s about to do.
“So Brooklyn,” the reporter begins, “what would you like the world to know about Monica Shore’s allegations that you were involved in a scheme to trick your husband out of insider secrets in exchange for a modeling contract with Elite Image?”
I lean forward. So does Em.
Brooklyn clears her throat and lifts her chin, leveling her gaze. “That it’s true. Everything in the article was true.”
“It’s…all true?” The reporter sounds ridiculously pleased.
I shake my head. No, no, no. “Brooklyn, what are you doing?” I murmur at the screen.
“Yes. I was approached by Elite after an audition in Los Angeles last year, with an offer for a lucrative contract in exchange for providing them with information about Danica Rose’s business plans and insider information. I believe this was to aid Elite in buying out DRM.”
The reporter nods, feigning concern. “And so you decided the only way for you to really get access to that sort of information was to marry into the family.”
“I—” Brooklyn blinks, hesitating for a second. Then she says, “Yes.”
I can barely draw a breath. Why the hell is she doing this? It’s a lie. I approached her about the marriage, not the other way around. Our union was a ploy to help boost Danica Rose’s public relations status—by legitimizing the most notorious Zoric bad boy. Me.
And now here she is on a live feed, acting like it was her plan all along to seduce me.
I don’t understand why she thinks she needs to twist things. We could have laid low for a while, let this blow over, presented the public with the long-term evidence of our happy marriage and a pile of no comments in the meantime. Why didn’t she come to me first?
“When Luka proposed, I knew it would be the perfect opportunity to give Elite what they were asking for. At the end of the day, I’d have the lavish lifestyle