Prologue #2
And even though I knew it wasn’t entirely legal, I didn’t judge that either.
Everyone was making more money, everyone was having a good time, everyone was gaining something.
As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win situation.
My father made more profits and connections this way, and the models earned more to send home to their families, as most of them were supporting their relatives overseas.
But if Anja and I got married, she wouldn’t need to make that extra income. She would be part of the Zoric family, and all the wealth and perks that that included.
“You don’t need to keep doing that kind of work once we’re married,” I told her. “I meant what I said. I’ll take care of both of us. Of your family, too.”
She pulled away and resumed dressing, zipping her jeans and reaching for her T-shirt.
“That’s not how it works,” she said, her voice quiet.
I didn’t understand her stubbornness, but I wasn’t going to let Anja’s hesitation stand in the way of our happiness. It was a problem I could fix. She just didn’t realize it.
“Don’t you love me?” I asked.
“Just because I love you, it doesn’t mean we can be together. Not like you’re asking. Even though it sounds like a fairytale.” Her voice caught in her throat, and I could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
I felt triumphant. She did want to be with me. “If you love me, then trust that I will find a way to make this work,” I said. “Can you do that? Can you just…trust me?”
Finally, her eyes locked on mine. I saw the glimmer of hope there, and felt a surge of emotion go through me, my chest swelling.
“I trust you,” she said. “But…I need some time. Okay?”
I swept her into my arms and kissed her, holding her tightly. I never wanted to let her go.
And if I had my way, I wouldn’t have to.
When she left a few hours later, she had agreed to think about my proposal, just as I had promised to fix whatever problems she was afraid of encountering. I was on top of the world. My whole life was ahead of me, my future bright, and now I’d have Anja at my side.
I still felt that way when I got a text from her a few days later saying we needed to talk. I was certain she was ready to officially say yes, so I rushed over after school, making a stop at home first to grab the engagement ring I was eager to slide onto her finger.
But when I arrived at the apartment KZ Modeling had set her up in, I found it empty.
Completely stripped bare. Besides the sparse modern furniture that had been there when she moved in, I found none of her books, no clothes, not even a toothbrush.
Even the many vases of fresh flowers that I had delivered to her place each week—which she never threw away—were gone.
It was as if she’d never been there at all.
None of the other models who lived in the building or on her floor could tell me anything. None of them knew where she had gone.
I texted her and called her, but there was no response.
Unsure of what to do, my adrenaline pumping hard, I got in a cab to go see the one man who had the power to fix anything—and everything. My father.
When I arrived at his office in the KZM building, it was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.
“Anja Borjan is missing,” I said, not caring that I was out of breath. “And everything of hers is gone from her apartment. Something’s not right. I talked to a few of the other girls, but nobody knows where she went.”
“Yes, I know,” my father said disinterestedly.
He had never been a warm man. Never been especially kind or fatherly, but the coldness in his voice at that moment stopped me in my tracks.
“Wait—you knew about this? So where is she?”
He glanced down at the paperwork on his desk, barely paying any attention to me.
“She’s been deported.”
It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. I sank down in a chair, my knees failing me.
“How? Why? We need to get her back,” I told him.
My father shook his head. “She was here illegally. There’s nothing we can do.”
“But I’m in love with her,” I said, the words coming out of me in a rush.
It wasn’t how I had envisioned telling my father about our relationship, but there wasn’t time for that now.
“I’m in love with her and I’m going to marry her, so her immigration status won’t be a problem. She’ll be a full citizen.”
My father looked up at me, his gaze hard as diamonds. “You think I didn’t know about your little tryst?” he asked. “You think I haven’t known about every single one of my models you’ve fucked around with?”
I flinched at his words. “This is different,” I said. “Anja is different. I need you to get her back.”
He smiled, and I finally felt myself relax. It was going to be okay.
And then he spoke.
“Why would I get her back?” he asked. “I’m the one who had her deported.”
“What?” I said, my chest caving in. “Why?”
“Because no son of mine is marrying a whore.”
The room seemed to spin as despair turned into fury. I wanted to reach across the desk and grab my father by the lapels of his Armani suit, punch the smug look off his face.
“You hypocrite,” I choked out. “Treating your employees like they’re worthless trash, after all they do for you. For our business. You were an immigrant too, Dad. How could you do this?”
He shrugged, cutting the end off a fresh cigar. “It’s just business. Don’t be na?ve, Stefan.”
I shook my head in disgust, disbelieving. “This is how you do business, how you treat our models? Like they’re inferior beings? I can’t believe any of them chose to work for you.”
My father laughed. But when he looked at me, there was no humor in his eyes.
“What makes you think they had a choice?”
It was a punch to the gut. I felt numb in my chair as I watched him light his cigar and take a few languid puffs.
All this time, I had assumed that the women were sleeping with clients of their own free will.
That they saw it as an opportunity to help themselves and their families.
I never in a million years imagined that they had been coerced into sex work.
Never would have imagined that my father had coerced them into it.
I had been a fool. An ignorant, childish fool.
Why hadn’t Anja told me? Why hadn’t she confided in me, as I’d confided in her?
Fury filled me. Not at her, but at my father. The monster in front of me, smoking his cigar and casually flipping through a series of photographs from a recent high fashion shoot.
Fuck him. I was going to find Anja. I would bring her back. I would make things right.
Almost as if he could read my mind, my father set down a photo, the smile slipping.
“Don’t even think of going after her,” he said. “You had your fun. It’s time to grow up.”
I didn’t say anything, just returned his gaze, my jaw tightening in order to keep myself from saying things I couldn’t take back.
Because as much as I hated my father in that moment, I was aware that I was still a minor.
Still just seventeen and completely dependent on him and his money.
Money I would need access to if I was ever going to get Anja back.
“If you want any part of this business, boy, you need to get in line with what’s best for the family. Or I’ll make sure you never get a cent of KZM’s profits. Is that clear?”
I was trapped. Like a caged animal. I only shrugged, not wanting to assent.
He went on, “You want to be a partner? Take charge someday, when I retire?”
I did, but it killed me to admit it. “Yes,” I finally ground out.
“Then you’ll do exactly as I say.” He came around the desk, leaning against it so he could look down at me as he smoked. “Zorics always look out for each other. You understand?”
All I could do was nod. One tight, short nod.
“Good. I’ll hear no more of this,” he said.
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed me.
I trudged out of his office defeated and at a loss. And furious.
My father had won this battle, but what he didn’t realize was that the war had just begun.
From now on, I would play smart and I would play quietly.
Because I had to get Anja back. I had to fix what my father had broken.
No matter what. The stakes were too high, the victory too important. There was no other option.
I was going to destroy him.