18. Stefan
STEFAN
Back at the table, in the aftermath of my declaration, I suddenly realized how good I felt about what I’d said.
Better than good, actually. A huge weight was off my shoulders.
Reasserting control over my life gave me strength and validation.
Power. I’d stated my loyalties resolutely and definitively; now the people closest to me could either support my decision—and my marriage—or stay the fuck out of my way.
It was a win-win. Tori and I were officially done making space in our lives for anyone trying to undermine or oppose us.
Refilling Tori’s wine glass, I glanced around at our guests, trying to gauge their reactions to my announcement.
My wife, of course, had been surprised and moved.
It was clear by her tears and the moment we’d shared in the bedroom that I’d done right by her.
Meanwhile my father had a scowl on his face as he took out his obvious displeasure on his food, shoveling it in, and my sister, the one person at the table who seemed to care for Tori almost as much as I did, was smiling broadly at the two of us as she talked animatedly about her upcoming photography work.
I grinned back at her, happy she was here, bolstered by the knowledge that Emzee was on our team—always had been and always would be.
My brother Luka was staring off into the middle distance with a tumbler of my most expensive whiskey in his hand, undeniably drunk, but that was par for the course for him these days.
I watched him drain the rest of the glass and then nearly stab himself with his razor-sharp knife as he tried to cut a piece of steak on his plate.
It might have been humorous if he wasn’t such a mess.
I made a mental note to look into rehab centers…
though I knew convincing my brother to check into one would be the bigger challenge.
And finally, Anja projected an air of obvious discomfort.
She was barely eating, picking at her dinner and avoiding eye contact as she forced a smile to go along with Emzee’s happy chatter.
If anything, she looked ashamed. I was positive now that she wasn’t a villain like my father.
She was just a single mom trying to do her best with a hard life, who’d gotten drawn into a situation that in many ways was beyond her control.
I’d make sure, no matter what happened, that she and Max were taken care of.
That they weren’t my father’s prisoners and playthings.
Gretna and another staff member bustled in to clear our plates and serve dessert, which consisted of poached pears and white chocolate mousse with an elaborate spun sugar decoration perched on top. As I looked closer, I realized the sugar seemed to be dusted with gold flakes.
“Bon appétit,” Gretna said, bowing a little before leaving the room in her black dress and starched apron.
“Thank you, Gretna,” I called out after her.
I had to stifle a smile—I never made our personal chef wear a uniform, or stick around to serve us. She was merely playing a part tonight, and clearly enjoying the chance to lay it on a little thick, although I hadn’t specifically asked her to do so.
What I had made clear to Tori and the staff, however, was that tonight was meant to be a demonstration of wealth and power.
It was the only language my father understood.
I wanted him to see that I wouldn’t be controlled or threatened by him.
That I was confident enough in my ability to maintain my privilege that I could afford this kind of lavish spending.
Of course, my father was more than done playing second fiddle at this point. Ignoring the artfully constructed dessert, he threw his napkin down and pushed back from the table.
“We’re leaving,” he said, snapping his fingers at Anja.
She obeyed his order immediately, jumping to her feet and going to get her coat.
I wasn’t sorry to see my father go, but I couldn’t stand the way he was treating Anja.
Especially since he had claimed that he viewed her and Max as part of the Zoric family.
How quickly her value had plummeted in my father’s eyes, now that I’d reasserted my commitment to Tori.
“Thank you both so much for coming,” Tori said, rising to follow them to the foyer and escort them out. I knew it was rude not to join my wife in seeing our guests off, but I’d had enough of my father’s pouting. He could stew for all I cared.
The front door slammed, and Luka jumped a little in his seat.
“That went well,” Emzee said sarcastically from across the table.
“As well as could be expected,” I pointed out as Tori came back and sat down again.
Tori smiled at Emzee and Luka and said, “Glad you’re both still here,” though I was pretty sure the comment was directed solely at my sister.
“Of course! Couldn’t let any of this dessert go to waste,” Emzee said, reaching over to slide Konstantin’s untouched dish toward her. “This mousse is a dream.”
The whole room seemed to have stopped holding its breath now that my father was gone.
And Tori seemed more relaxed and glowing as well.
I was so impressed with her. She’d kept her head high and managed to treat my father in a distant but polite way throughout the entire meal, despite her nerves and the fact that he’d never been kind to her. It took a lot of strength.
As Emzee dove back into her descriptions of the assignment she’d soon be shooting in the indigenous forests of South America, Luka quietly eased out of his chair and half-walked, half-stumbled to the bar in the adjoining living room.
Tori reached over and put a hand on my arm.
“He’s so drunk already,” she whispered. I could hear the worry in her tone.
I nodded, already rising from my seat. Even though my younger brother was an adult, I still felt responsible for him.
Still felt as though I needed to take care of him, to protect him from the world.
My father certainly never had. And as much as I disapproved of Luka’s self-medicating and destructive behavior, I thought I understood where it came from.
“Luka,” I started as I walked over to the bar, where my brother was pouring himself another very generous glass of aged Glenfiddich.
I doubted he could even taste it at this point, he was so intoxicated.
“Brother!” Luka slurred, raising his glass in my direction. “Great dinner,” he said with a sneer. “Great toast. Really livened up the party.”
He reeked of booze, as if he was sweating it out of his skin, to the point that I had to take a step back.
Now that I was standing in front of him, I realized exactly how terrible he looked.
It wasn’t just that Luka was intoxicated; I’d seen plenty of that lately.
His shirt was only half tucked, and buttoned incorrectly.
His hair stuck up greasily in places, as if he hadn’t showered properly in days.
And his face had changed, with new lines fanning out from his eyes, and a pale puffiness that hadn’t been there before. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days.
“You look pretty peaked,” I told him honestly. “Maybe you should cool it on the booze.”
“Maybe you should mind your own business,” he said, glaring at me. “I’m perfec’ly capable of handling my shit.” He was slurring.
“Okay,” I said skeptically.
I suppressed the urge to knock the glass out of his hand.
Truthfully, I was torn between giving Luka a dose of tough love or treating him with more compassion.
I didn’t want to enable his drinking, but at the same time I knew that he had only just recently learned the truth about what our father did behind the scenes of KZ Modeling.
The fact that KZM made most of its money via sex trafficking had clearly hit Luka hard. And he in turn had hit the bottle hard.
I wasn’t unsympathetic—I’d been shocked as well when I found out—and I still felt a little guilty that I hadn’t been able to protect my brother better.
I also hated that I couldn’t tell him about my current plants to ensure that our father’s illegal business dealings would crash and burn.
I loved Luka, and I knew he would be on my side, but at the same time I couldn’t trust him not to say anything to our father.
Not when he was constantly in a drunken state like this.
Still, I could at least try to help him not lose his life to alcohol.
Luka was taking a long gulp of whiskey, not realizing that he was dribbling a good portion of his drink down the front of his shirt.
“You’ve had enough,” I told him firmly, trying to ease the glass from his hand.
Instead of giving it up, he wrestled it away from me, managing to slosh the rest of the whiskey all over the hand knotted silk rug. Realizing what he’d done, he slammed the empty glass on top of the bar.
“Who are you to boss me around, anyway?” he railed. “Everybody was drinking tonight, and that was just fine—how come I’m the one who gets the spotlight on me?”
“Everything okay in there?” Tori called out through the doorway to the dining room.
“We’re great!” Luka slurred, pulling the whiskey bottle across the bar toward him.
I turned toward the doorway and motioned for Tori to stay at the table, trying to give her a reassuring smile. The last thing I wanted was for her to witness this altercation.
“You’re done,” I repeated to Luka, grabbing the bottle and locking it in the cabinet.
It didn’t feel good treating him like he was a child that needed to be protected from himself, but the fact was, it wasn’t so far from the truth.
“You’re a real fucking drag, Stefan,” Luka said.
I took a long breath, searching for the kind of words that might get through to him. “I care about you, Luka. And I know you’re an adult who can make his own choices. But this has to stop. You’re destroying yourself.”
Luka laughed bitterly. “You’re not my father,” he said, and then he gave me a mean smile. “Though you are somebody’s father now, aren’t you? Kind of funny, isn’t it?”
“Luka,” I warned.
He ignored me. “I’m not entirely convinced, though,” he said, tapping his finger against his chin. “You know, I’ve seen the brat myself.”
“His name. Is Max,” I grinded out, tamping down the first stirrings of rage.
“Sure, Max,” Luka repeated, before glancing up at me and tilting his head as if he was studying me. “The thing is…he doesn’t really look like you, does he?”
I didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“You’re drunk,” I told him.
“Are you sure he’s even yours?” Luka said. An uncomfortable chill went up my spine. “You might have loved that bitch, but let’s not forget she was a hooker for a living.”
Without realizing I’d made the choice to do so, I had Luka shoved up against the wall, my hand around his neck. Fear flashed in his eyes, but he still had the nerve to smirk at me as I stood there breathing hard and trying to calm down.
“Shut the fuck up,” I seethed.
“The truth hurts, brother,” he said, his voice rasping from the pressure on his neck.
Suddenly, Tori appeared in my periphery, a steaming cup of coffee in her hand. I wondered how much of the conversation she had heard.
She cleared her throat and I released my brother, stepping back. I regretted my outburst.
“Here’s some coffee for you, Luka,” she said, in a much kinder tone than he deserved. “Why don’t you go sit with Emzee for a bit?”
I half expected Luka to argue with Tori, to start cursing or trying to pour another drink for himself, but he took the coffee without comment, his head lowered like a chastened dog.
“Sure,” he said quietly and shuffled back to the dining room, where my sister was waiting—hopefully to pour a carafe of coffee into him before sending him home.
I leaned back against the bar, feeling suddenly weary. Tori squeezed my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I glanced in the direction my brother had gone in. “I don’t know,” I said honestly.
“I heard him,” Tori admitted. Her voice was low; perhaps she didn’t want Emzee to hear. “He’s…very drunk.”
“Yeah,” I responded. “Anyway. Let’s go sit.”
As I sipped coffee back at the table, I couldn’t help brooding.
I knew Luka was drunk and spouting off, but I couldn’t deny that he’d succeeded in planting the seeds of doubt in my mind.
And he had a point about Anja. A solid one.
She’d slept with other men—that was a fact.
I didn’t judge her for it, but it certainly called the issue of paternity into question.
And then that first day at the zoo with Max, I remembered thinking that although he had seemed familiar, especially his expressions and quirks, he hadn’t really reminded me of myself.
And he didn’t look anything like the younger versions of me that I’d seen in my childhood photos.
Maybe the familiarity was just seeing Anja in the kid, but I wasn’t sure.
I’d believed her when she’d said Max was mine, but Luka’s words had thrown everything into question.
I continued mulling it over as I helped Emzee escort Luka to the foyer.
“Can you make sure he gets home safe?” I asked her as he struggled with his coat.
“I’m fine,” Luka mumbled, misaligning the buttons.
Emzee nodded. “Sure. In fact, I won’t leave his side until he sobers up. My boyfriend’s at home with Munchkin anyway, so I don’t need to rush back to my apartment any time soon.”
“Life saver,” I told her. At least there was one person in my family I could always depend on. Then I gave Luka a hug, even though he tried to pull away. “Take care of yourself,” I said.
Once Tori and I had ushered them out the door, we sank onto the living room sofa with the last of the coffee. The staff was already in the process of dismantling the décor and candles in the dining room and cleaning up the remaining dishes on the table.
As the comforting, familiar sound of Gretna’s humming issued from the kitchen, I leaned my head against Tori’s and went silent for a long time, lost in thought.
Finally, I turned to look at my wife.
“I’m going to ask Anja for a DNA test,” I told her. “What do you think?”
She nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. You need to know the truth.”