2. Tori
TORI
I found myself unable to speak, temporarily struck aphonic—from the Greek aphonos, without sound. Words had always been my salvation and now…nothing. All I felt was the blood draining from my face, my mouth falling open as I tried to process what my father had just said.
Husband?
Husband?
There was no possible way I had heard that correctly. It had to be a joke.
I forced a small laugh, but no one joined in. Everyone was staring at me, their faces expectant. My father was still grinning. The handsome stranger—my new fiancé, ostensibly—wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. He looked…inquisitive. Like he was gauging my reaction.
But he didn’t look surprised.
In fact, no one did. Instead, they all seemed to be waiting for me to say something.
“My…husband?” I somehow managed.
“Congratulations! And happy birthday!” My father put his arm around me and gave my shoulder a squeeze.
I gaped at him.
“Mitch.” My stepmother stepped closer to both of us, then lowered her voice to a respectful whisper. “You didn’t tell her first? What were you thinking?”
Finally, someone else was as shocked as I was.
Except, not for the same reason. Michelle had known what was going on. They had all known. All of them except for me. The person who was supposed to be getting married.
“I was thinking it would be more fun this way,” my father said, sounding a little put out. “It’s a surprise.”
Michelle’s frown was brief and just for us. And then immediately it was gone, the furrow between her brows smoothed out, and she turned to my new fiancé with a warm smile.
“Welcome to the family, Stefan,” she said, reaching out toward him.
“Thank you.” The handsome stranger took her hand and bowed slightly as he clasped it between his own, his bearing as regal as a fairytale prince. Even in my shock, I couldn’t help but be charmed. Just a little.
Then he turned that charm directly on me.
God, was I in trouble.
His smile made my knees literally go weak, those full, gorgeous lips curving into a secret promise of…something. Something good. Then he took my hand firmly in his, drawing it toward that tantalizing mouth, and pressed a kiss to my knuckles.
His lips were hot, their warmth spreading through my entire body as his eyes met mine. When he turned my hand over to place another kiss on the soft skin of my inner wrist, I had to drop my gaze. It was like I could feel that kiss between my legs.
“Victoria Lindsey,” he said softly, finally releasing me. “A pleasure to meet you.”
Was it just my imagination or had he put a small emphasis on pleasure?
I shivered. I’d been overwhelmed by surprise and shock, but now I felt arousal, too. Bodily, chemical attraction, beyond the initial appreciation of his face and figure from before. It hit me hard, and I found it difficult to look away.
Stefan. Even his name sounded exotic and like the promise of something new. Something different. It was also familiar. Or at least, his last name was.
“Zoric—are you related to Konstantin Zoric? The owner of KZ Modeling?”
Something shifted in his gaze, but Stefan nodded. “My father. It’s a family business.”
Of course I’d recognized the name. KZ managed some of the hottest models in the country, possibly in the world. The company was in the headlines frequently.
My head was spinning. I stood frozen, a Barbie doll, stiff and still in my gown.
“Stefan, will you excuse us for just a minute?” Michelle cut in, wearing her perfect hostess smile. “I think we could use a moment alone.”
“Of course,” my fiancé said. My fiancé. It gave me a shock just thinking the word.
My father frowned at her. “They’re just now getting acquainted. It can wait.”
“I think you and Tori need to have a little father-daughter discussion first? In private,” she said, subtly shooting him a look. It was one she rarely used—as she never contradicted my father in public—but it worked.
“Please, go. I’ll be waiting.” Stefan gave a discreet nod and backed off, giving us space.
Taking my elbow, Michelle led me to the small parlor adjacent to the ballroom. My father followed. It was quiet and secluded, and my stepmother furtively pressed a glass of champagne into my underage hand before shutting the door so the three of us could be alone.
I sipped the drink, then downed the rest in one gulp. Reality was beginning to sink in.
My father had arranged a marriage between me and Stefan. A man I had never met before. That was my birthday surprise. Not college. Not tuition. Marriage. I was being given away.
The heat that had spread through me at Stefan’s touch had dissipated, and now I was cold.
Goosebumps rose on my bare arms and I resisted the urge to shiver.
I wanted to wrap my arms around myself, but I knew the body language would make me look like a bratty little girl throwing a tantrum, and I wanted my father to take my next words seriously.
“I thought you’d be pleased,” he said. He spread his hands, looking genuinely baffled. “You knew this was coming.”
“I did, but…” How did he not understand that I’d been completely blindsided by this?
“He’s handsome enough, isn’t he? Rich. Well-connected. He has an MBA from an Ivy League school, for god’s sake,” he continued.
“He is an exceptional young man,” my stepmother agreed. “I think Tori was just taken off-guard by the arrangement.” She gave me an encouraging look. “Weren’t you, darling?”
I managed a nod, knowing that Michelle was doing me a kindness in helping me navigate this confusion and surprise with some grace.
Because any fleeting hope I’d had that this was a joke was long gone now. Even though Michelle had stood up for me, rescuing me from the humiliation of having this discussion in public, it was clear that she wasn’t going to contradict my father’s decision about my future.
Except, it was my future. I was eighteen now. An adult. I didn’t have to marry Stefan.
Did I?
I had to admit, I was completely dependent on my father for everything. I’d never had a job beyond my volunteer work and community service, had never earned money of my own. Everything I had came from him. I’d always known there were strings attached.
I just hadn’t realized the strings would be this major. This life-changing. This soon.
“Why Stefan?” I asked. “He’s not from a political family. This doesn’t make sense.”
“It makes perfect sense. These are exactly the kind of people we need in our inner circle,” my father said, tugging on his cuffs, as he did when he was feeling impatient.
“How so?” It was obvious he didn’t want to explain, but I needed him to. Surely he had his reasons. He never did anything without endless hours of planning and decision-making.
Michelle cleared her throat. “Tori, the Zorics are wealthy and generous, and they have a vast network of influence. The bond your marriage will create between their family and ours will be essential for your father at reelection time next year. Do you understand?”
I nodded my comprehension, feeling numb. Of course. It all came down to hefty campaign contributions and securing the maximum number of votes.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. My father was facing a tough batch of rivals next year and needed all the help he could get. This was the help he was turning to. No doubt the Zorics would be an invaluable asset.
“You should consider yourself lucky,” my father said. “This guy’s a catch! Men like Konstantin and his sons are surrounded by beautiful women every day. Stefan could have chosen any number of brides, but he agreed to marry you. He’s making a sacrifice too.”
That stung.
“This is all just…happening so fast,” I murmured. “What if it’s a mistake?”
“Don’t be childish, Victoria,” my father snapped, losing patience. “I saw the way you looked at him. You were practically undressing him with your eyes. You’re clearly halfway in love already. This is a win-win.”
It was a little embarrassing that my father could read my interest so plainly.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing some piece of the puzzle.
Even if I was intrigued by the possibility of being married to a man like him—powerful, confident, with a jaw that could cut glass—what did Stefan stand to gain?
Our fathers’ interests were more than clear… but what about my fiancé’s?
“I still don’t understand what he’s getting out of this.”
“Oh, Tori,” Michelle said, shaking her head. “You know how men are about shiny objects. But just think—this is someone who can take care of you. Give you security.”
“What more could you ask for?” my father added. “He’ll be able to give you everything you want.”
“You have no idea what I want!” I said, shocking myself. I never talked back to him.
But I still had dreams of my own. Dreams I’d assumed I would get to pursue before settling down with someone. And now my college plans were off the table. Because my father needed me to drop everything that mattered so I could be a trophy wife to the son of his ally.
“Is this about your little underwater basket-weaving degree? You still want that? Well, guess what. Your new husband can afford it,” he said.
I pressed my lips together, gazing out the window while I collected myself. He had a point. This situation could benefit me. My father would get what he wanted, and maybe I could, too. Plus, he wasn’t wrong about Stefan being good looking. And I’d be his.
At least until I got my degree. Four years, maybe eight if I decided I wanted my doctorate.
I could stand to be married to a man as handsome as Stefan for a few years. Couldn’t I? Sharing a home, a life…a bed.
My head was swimming.
“This was always the plan, Tori,” my father said. “This man—his family—can provide you with anything you could possibly dream of. I’m offering you the chance to have a life of luxury and ease. You should be thanking me for finding you such a match.”
“It’s just…so much to think about,” I said, my temples suddenly throbbing.
“Then stop thinking!” my father ordered.
Michelle put her hand on his shoulder. “Mitch. You catch more flies with honey.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered. “I feel trapped.”
“Dance with him,” Michelle suggested, turning toward me. “Go back out there and take a turn around that ballroom and see how it feels to be in his arms. Then you can decide what you want to do. I know you’ll make the right decision.”
“I suggest you take your stepmother’s advice,” my father said, a warning in his voice.
I nodded my acquiescence. Michelle’s words had been kinder than his, but the implication was clear—you can dance with him, but in the end you’re going to marry him, no matter what.
I guess I did know something, after all. I knew I had no choice.