5. Tori
TORI
“Take on meee…” Luka was singing in a corner, getting increasingly louder even amid the din of the lavish hotel ballroom. “Take me ooon…”
This fundraiser was a train wreck. Not necessarily in terms of raising the intended funds, since it seemed to be packed full of wealthy, influential people who were clearly happy to throw money at a problem rather than actually thinking about it.
But Stefan’s family seemed to be imploding in a very public way—or at least, Luka was.
I had spotted him quickly after we arrived, slouching by the open bar serving wine and a few types of classy but small-sized cocktails.
But he must have thrown back a lot of them, because he was clearly drunk.
Very, very drunk. And with no sign of Stefan or Konstantin in the immediate area, I knew it was up to me to do damage control.
As I made my way toward the bar, I consciously forced a relaxed smile onto my face.
Stefan had not uttered a single word to me before we’d left the condo, barely even glancing my way when I came out of the guest bedroom dressed exactly as he had ordered from hair to heels.
It was typical of him lately, but I still felt disappointed—and upset that I’d had to cancel my plans with Gavin and my girlfriends.
I hadn’t even told Stefan about my A. Not that he’d care.
“Luka,” I said, taking his arm and adopting a soothing tone as I interrupted his singing. “Maybe we should go get some air. It’s getting a little hot in here, isn’t it?”
I glanced around. Nobody seemed to be taking much of an interest in my brother-in-law, but I’d noticed a few people looking his way when he’d started singing and I was hoping to convince him to leave quietly.
Maybe the air outside would do him some good, sober him up enough to come back to the party and go through the motions along with the rest of the Zorics.
“You wanna drink, Tor?” he asked, flipping open his blazer to reveal the flask bulging from the inside pocket. “I brought my own. Iss’ always all bougie wine here, you know?”
I felt my smile grow tighter. “I don’t drink, Luka. Not in public, at least. I’m still only eighteen.” But oh, how I wished I could. It’d certainly make the night easier.
“Seen you drink at home,” he argued. “C’mon, take it. No one’s looking.” He tried to pass the flask, but I took a step back, worried someone would see and it’d be all over the news. “Zorics know how to keep secrets, didn’t you know? We’re professionals at hiding things.”
Despite Luka’s slurring, his words were sharp.
It was obvious to me that he was still angry and bitter in the wake of his own recent revelations about KZ Modeling’s covert activities.
I could hardly blame him. My brother-in-law may have been a little spoiled, a player and a partier, but up until a few weeks ago he’d had no idea that his father was a glorified pimp.
If only my husband cared as much. But then, he’d known all along.
“Let’s step out for a minute,” I suggested again.
“What for? Is my little sis not enjoying the rager? Iss’ kinda dull for me, too.”
“I think I need a short break, is all,” I said, looping my arm through Luka’s. “Come on.”
But just then a fur-wrapped older woman with huge diamond earrings hobbled over and placed a hand on Luka’s shoulder. “You’re Luka Zoric,” she cooed with a huge smile. “Gosh, don’t you look just like your father! And what fabulous contributions he’s made this year.”
“You have no idea what my father has contributed to human trafficking,” Luka said. Then he started giggling. Loudly. “No idea at all!”
The woman looked confused, and taken aback.
I cleared my throat and intervened as best I could. “I’m so sorry, but my brother-in-law here has a touch of the flu tonight. He’s not feeling like himself.” She immediately murmured her understanding, stepping back. “I’m going to find us a quiet corner now, if you’ll excuse us.”
But he refused to be herded away, ordering from the bar even as I tugged him toward the exit. I could smell the liquor rolling off him. The last thing he needed was another drink.
“Luka, please,” I begged.
His sloppy grin turned into a tense scowl, and I followed his gaze across the room and saw his father, Konstantin, schmoozing up a group of men in suits. All of them were laughing.
“Victoria, we have a number of other guests to speak with,” a cold voice commanded from behind us. I whirled to find Stefan standing there, glaring between his brother and me.
“But Luka—” I protested.
“Is an adult who can handle himself,” Stefan cut me off, detaching my grip from Luka. “I suggest you get yourself in line, brother,” he said quietly, his voice like steel. “You look sloppy.”
“You don’t like my tie?” Luka slurred, lifting it up for inspection. “It’s a Ferragamo.”
Stefan grabbed the tie, pulling Luka close. “This is a PR event, not a frat party. Get your act together. And you can start by going to the men’s room to freshen up. You’re a mess.”
I watched them stare each other down, until Luka shook his head and stormed off.
Stefan said nothing more, steering me firmly toward a sophisticated-looking couple who were holding court and surrounded by others of their ilk. Obviously my husband was more concerned with keeping up appearances and impressing people than taking care of his brother.
This wasn’t the attention I’d been hoping for.
Stefan had ignored me in the car on the way over, hadn’t even touched me until we arrived at the fundraiser, which was being held at one of the five-star hotels that the Zoric family was connected to.
The moment we pulled up to the curb, where there were a crowd of reporters and photographers, Stefan’s entire demeanor had changed.
At that moment he’d put a toothpaste ad of a smile on his face and taken my arm.
I’d gritted my teeth and played along, feeling betrayed at the way my pulse still leapt at his touch. The way it was doing again right now.
“Try to look like you’re having a good time,” Stefan hissed under his breath.
I heard the threat in his words so I whipped out my well-practiced public smile. No doubt there would be pictures of us splashed all over the news tomorrow, the happy, glamorous couple, working the room like pros at this laudable and worthwhile charity event.
Stefan kept a firm grip on my arm as we made our way around the ballroom.
But as he chatted up yet another older white businessman and his dolled-up Stepford wife, I felt his body stiffen almost imperceptibly next to mine.
I looked up to find his father, Konstantin, stalking over in his signature monochromatic grey. Like a black cloud bearing down on us.
My stomach dropped. Konstantin was the last person I wanted to interact with right now. But I could sense Stefan already turning us toward the man, so I put that fake smile back on my face and waited for my father-in-law to reach us.
“Stefan,” he said, nodding his head at his oldest son before giving me a long, lecherous once-over. He didn’t even bother to properly greet me before turning his attention back to my husband. “Your brother is passed out drunk in the men’s room.”
“I sent him in there to sober up,” Stefan said. “Clearly he failed to do so.”
“No matter. Send him home,” Konstantin ordered. Stefan responded with a curt nod.
I felt fury rise inside of me. I’d never thought I’d side with Luka over anything, but his drunken misbehavior seemed like a perfectly appropriate reaction to the hypocrisy that we were all participating in.
Who would have guessed that my husband’s womanizing, arrogant, inappropriately behaved younger brother would have a stronger grip on morality than Stefan?
Konstantin walked off, probably to hobnob with some more rich people with shady ethics. I turned to Stefan, angry beyond belief. Wasn’t he supposed to be the good guy? Wasn’t he supposed to protect his brother? Instead, he was just doing whatever his father told him to do.
“Better run off in a hurry now and do what daddy says,” I said, smiling all along so that anyone looking at us would think we were having a pleasant conversation.
“And while you’re at it, don’t forget to write a check to support this organization.
An organization that would give anything to shut you and your father down.
How many zeros will you add to this check to assuage your guilt, by the way?
I’m a little fuzzy on the cost of a clean conscience these days. ”
Stefan leveled an ice-cold look in my direction.
“Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”
“Trust me, I understand perfectly. I understand that you’ll go to work tomorrow, probably starting your day off with a blowjob from one of these poor, exploited women, before sending them off on a “job” to service the next well-paying gentleman. Oh, but how silly of me. You don’t have to pay.”
“Stop,” Stefan ordered, his grip tightening until it started to actually hurt.
But I wouldn’t stop. “Do the models even know you’re all here?” I goaded him. “Hiding behind your filthy donations? Rubbing elbows with Chicago’s elite while you eat fucking hors d’oeuvres and pretend to actually give a shit about their welfare?”
“You have no idea what I’m trying to do here,” Stefan said, leading me to a corner.
“You’re a hypocrite,” I hissed. “Do the women working for KZM have any idea that you’re spending the money they earned on a fundraiser that’s ostensibly for them? A fundraiser that will never be able to help them because you and your family are fucking liars?”
“Shut. Your. Mouth.” His eyes flicked around the room, but I didn’t care who saw us.
“Is that what you tell your girls?” I taunted. “Nah, it’s the opposite. Open wider, right?”
Stefan swung me around and pressed me hard against the wall so I had nowhere to look but up at him. His eyes burned with fury, his fingers still gripping my bicep hard.