8. Brooklyn
brOOKLYN
Now that I’m standing in Luka’s penthouse, I’m not entirely sure how to play this.
I’d been so sure of myself on the way over, but then he had to answer the door wearing nothing but a pair of clingy sweatpants, flashing that ridiculous six-pack and those broad shoulders I’ve never forgotten.
It takes all my willpower to keep my eyes off the obscene bulge of his cock.
His skin is flushed and there’s a light sheen of sweat at his temples, as if he’d just been working out or something. Too bad I hadn’t gotten here earlier. I could have been his workout.
No, Brooklyn! I made a deal with myself that I wasn’t going to think about sex, or kissing, or Luka naked with me under him. None of that. This is going to be a professional meeting. I know what I want from this visit, and it’s not an orgasm.
I sweep my gaze over his chest, my hands twitchy with the need to trace the dips and lines there. Who am I kidding? An orgasm is exactly what I want.
He runs a hand through his hair. His eyes are lit up as if he’s happy to see me. “Hello to you, too. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“No.” I grip the strap of my purse with both hands and clear my throat. “I just came to talk. I’m…open to discussing your proposition some more.”
“In that case, have a seat while I get you a drink.”
I’m about to decline the drink, but I don’t. I might need something to calm my nerves.
He gestures to the end of the short hall where it opens into his living room.
I swallow hard as I enter the room, remembering it from the last time I was here.
I can’t indicate that I know anything about this place, though.
He obviously doesn’t remember having me over, and I’m not about to burst that bubble.
I take a seat on the edge of the couch. “This is a beautiful place.”
His right brow hitches up and I feel like he’s assessing me. “Thanks.”
“Professionally designed, or is interior decorating one of your talents?”
There’s different artwork on the living room walls than when I was here last, large prints of antique architectural sketches, but they somehow lend a distinctly modern feel. I expect Luka to quip something about his talents resting solely in the bedroom.
“Designer. You would not want to see this place if I was left to my own devices.”
He puts up a finger to indicate he’ll be right back and disappears in the direction of the kitchen.
I let out a deep breath and give myself a mental shake.
I’m determined to stick to the script in my head.
I have questions. We’ll talk about it. Make a plan, and then I’ll decide if an arranged marriage is something I really want to do.
Mateo’s words keep playing in my head. What if this is my only hope of getting a break? I hate having so few options, and like it or not, the most promising one on the horizon is becoming Luka’s wife.
He returns before I get too nervous and hands me a glass of wine. Cracking open a bottle of water for himself, he ignores the open expanse of the massive L-shaped couch and sits beside me, close enough that I get a clear whiff of his sexy male scent mixed with his high-end cologne.
“How did you know where I live?” he asks casually.
I tilt the wine glass to my lips, stalling for time. Shit. I have no idea how to answer that without giving myself away.
He shrugs as I swallow down half the glass. “You must have seen my address on my driver’s license when we were comparing mug shots.”
Relieved, I laugh, hoping I don’t sound as nervous as I think I do. “Yes. I did.”
He shifts a little and my pulse starts to race. “Okay. So let’s talk.”
Well, he just opened the door and there’s no backing out now. Stick to the script. “I’d like to know what your plans are for this whole marriage thing. How would it work, exactly?”
Maybe it’s my imagination because I’m nervous, but he appears way too calm. Like this is something he’s really committed to, not just some whim.
“I hadn’t really thought out all the details to be honest—I was going to work through it on the fly. How about this? You tell me what you’d need to make it work.”
Ah, good. The door is really wide open now. I set my glass on the side table and clasp my hands together. His thigh brushes against mine. My breath hitches and I momentarily forget what I was about to say. Did he move closer to me? Why is it so hot in here?
“I want a modeling contract for the length of the marriage, with the option to renew afterward if it’s mutually agreeable.
” The words tumble out and my confidence feeds off of them.
“And I want an active role in choosing the assignments that come my way, so I can decide which are best for me. Also, I’d like to be kept in the loop about Danica Rose—you know, like if the company is bouncing back the way you’re all hoping.
Considering it’s my future on the line, too, I feel like I should know how the general health of the business is doing. ”
He eyes me thoughtfully and I hope the blip of nerves I feel doesn’t show.
Yes, I do want to know how DRM is doing.
Another scandal could put me out of a job and seriously affect my future.
But also, the more info I have in my back pocket to use at my disposal, the better.
Insider information could pay off for me in the long run—though I don’t mention that to him.
“Anything else, Brooklyn?”
My confidence comes back as he moves along.
“I want to pick out my ring.”
It’s petty, I know, but if I’m doing this, I want it to be Instagram perfect. I’ve already started thinking about how I’d stage the ring on my hand, with a background at the Navy Pier botanical gardens, catching the flash of the diamond in just the right light.
Luka chuckles a little and spreads his hands. “Is that all?”
“I might think of something else, but those are the main requirements.”
It’s not my imagination; he did move closer. Our legs press firmly from knee to hip and he’s looking at me as if waiting for more. Should I have asked for something else? I scramble to think of something I missed, when his hand slides over mine and my brain ceases to think.
“You don’t have any conditions on when we get married, or where? No conditions on where we’ll live…or where we’ll sleep?” he asks.
Our eyes lock, and my nipples pull hard inside my thin bralette. His gaze drops there, my pulse rising as he spies the visible proof of my arousal. I can’t think like this.
“Um, maybe…maybe you could put some more clothes on,” I suggest.
He lets out a low, sexy laugh. I want to touch him so badly, have him flip me onto my back on the couch and cover me with every inch of that gorgeous body. I want to feel the length of his cock through his pants, grind up against him as I—
“On second thought,” I say, “go get dressed so we can take this conversation to the coffee shop down the street.”
“What’s the problem with discussing things here?” he asks. “It’s our chemistry, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that,” I lie. “I just think professional boundaries are a good idea.”
“You know, it helps that we’re attracted to each other,” he says. He reaches up his hand, trailing it across my cheek. I feel the sparks through my entire body. “That energy between us. That heat that makes your throat dry and your pussy wet.”
Clenching my thighs together, I uselessly attempt to hold back my desire. But my core is throbbing in the way it does only for Luka.
The one man who could completely ruin me.
I can’t let him sweet talk his way into my pants again. No. Modeling contract signed and delivered, then we’ll talk sex.
Luka dips his head to my ear, his hot breath washing over my skin. It’s like our first meeting all over again. “It’s good that you want to fuck me, Brooklyn. It’ll make our relationship look real.”
He takes my chin and tilts it up, and when our eyes lock, I start subconsciously leaning toward him, my lips parting almost without me realizing it.
Fuck, what am I doing?
I jump to my feet and cross my arms. “I was under the impression you needed to clean up your rep, not dirty it. It’s obvious this arrangement isn’t your main focus. Give me a call if you decide you’re ready to take this seriously. Until then, I’m out.”
Turning away, I grab my purse and storm out of the apartment.
As the elevator doors close me in, I slump against the wall and try to catch my breath.
I did it. I stood up for myself. Great.
But I still fucking want him.