27. Brooklyn
brOOKLYN
As I spin across the dance floor in my husband’s arms, another woman tries to cut in with a light tap on my shoulder and a saucy grin. Instead of yielding, I block her with a polite yet venomous stare and a firm shake of my head.
I only just got Luka back and I’m not about to let him go, especially to some sassy young thing in a shimmery Hervé Léger bandage dress that looks like it was painted onto her body.
Tonight is a big deal. Danica Rose Management is co-hosting the black-tie event during which the model chosen as the next face of Maxilene—for the company’s biggest worldwide modeling campaign to date—will be announced.
There are press and media people everywhere, models galore, and tons of bigwigs in the industry, all in fancy dress.
And the menu is enough to make your head spin.
Extravagant bespoke cocktails designed just for this party, with names like “Six-two in heels” and “The Gaultier,” gourmet hors d’oeuvres dusted in shaved truffles and gold leaf, and a variety of voices (and accents) shouting so loud to be heard over the music that I can’t believe anyone can carry on a conversation.
It’s fun to be here on the arm of someone so important, though. Even more fun to be the only one Luka takes out on the dance floor. I do love dancing. Unfortunately, I can barely keep up. My anxiety is so bad that I may as well have two left feet.
I’ve tried my best to remain calm since we returned from the Bahamas, knowing this day was rapidly approaching, but nothing has stopped me from losing major sleep over it. The worst part is, I know Luka has to have some insider information…but he won’t share it with me.
Begging and pleading has gotten me nowhere.
My husband just holds up his hands, insisting that Guy hasn’t made any decisions yet but that I’m at the top of the running.
Not helpful. Especially considering the fact that I’m up against some majorly famous faces that are far more established on the scene than I am.
But maybe being a “fresh face” gives me an edge.
I hope so.
Despite his tight lips, Luka has done a great job distracting me at home.
I was worried that once we got back to the real world, we’d go right back to fighting and angry sex and overall aggressive vibes at home.
But it hasn’t been like that at all. In fact, things have been better than ever, and even though we haven’t verbally declared any feelings for each other, I can feel we’re closer now.
We try to eat dinner together, we have movie nights, and we hold hands when we take Kibs out for his evening walk together.
We still have conflict sometimes, of course, but we try to talk it out now, and sometimes we can actually find a resolution. Other times, we just have to agree to disagree.
Another change: I’ve moved into his bedroom.
Not officially—all of my stuff is still in the spare room—but most mornings that’s where I wake up, with one of his arms draped around me.
We’re still finding our way together, but it seems like we’re on the right track.
Like this is the version of us that we were always meant to be.
Luka nuzzles my ear and tightens his arm around my lower back. “You’re always beautiful, but you really outdid yourself tonight.”
I let out a shy laugh. “Comes with the territory, I guess.”
Truth is, I had to work hard to re-volumize my hair and get the flush off my face from the amazing sex we had an hour before it was time to get here.
Thank goodness for hot rollers and powder foundation.
My little black dress has a scoop in the back that dips halfway down my back and is trimmed in tiny silver beads.
The front is modest but off-the-shoulder, and I accessorized with the sunburst brooch Luka gifted me.
He spins me with a questioning look, as if he knows how jacked up my nerves still are.
I wish we had time for a quickie in the coat closet, but even though he looks divine in his Armani tux, I’m so worried about the campaign reveal that I probably wouldn’t be able to get in the mood.
My brain is completely consumed. I try to force a smile, and that’s the tipping point.
“You look tense,” Luka says softly.
I keep my voice intimately low. “I can’t take it anymore. I have to know how this is going to go. Can’t you just give me a teeny tiny hint if I got it? How about a simple yes or no?”
That’s the other thing driving me batty—Luka is the one who’ll be opening the envelope at the end of the evening and publicly announcing the name of the model who will be the next face of Maxilene. He has to know something by now.
“I’m amazed it took you so long to ask.” He spins me again, then pulls me in and plants a kiss on my jawline so he won’t muss my makeup. “Patience, Brooklyn. We have to wait it out.”
There’s a flash of light beside us as a photographer takes a picture.
As we’ve done off and on all night, we pause in our dance to turn and smile for the camera.
We had our picture taken by the backdrop earlier and it was all I could do not to fidget.
I know we looked good, though. Just like a happy, successful couple in a glossy magazine should look.
Luka’s been getting waved down and pulled away most of the evening by industry professionals wanting to chat or get a picture with him.
It makes me feel proud to be his partner.
All those things his family said about him at his birthday dinner are true.
Luka pulled himself out of a hole and completely changed his life. And it’s paying off.
“Remember what I said?” He moves us to a more intimate corner of the dance floor.
“Guy’s seen your portfolio, video of live shoots, complete spreads with you front and center.
He even agreed when I told him that you’d be perfect for this campaign.
I did everything humanly possible to get you in his good graces. ”
Luka’s said all of this a hundred times, and I know I should trust him, but I can’t help second-guessing his words. I keep telling myself everything will turn out okay, but I won’t really believe it until I hear the results out loud.
I take a small breath. “Okay. I’m going to stay calm, I promise.”
“Good. Let’s get a drink, maybe something to eat? I don’t think you’ve had anything all day.”
He’s right. I’ve been too anxious to sit still and force down food since breakfast.
We make small talk with a few people as we head away from the dance floor, but thankfully, no one pulls us in for deeper conversation. I put together a plate of fancy snack foods and make myself eat a bit of everything, though each bite goes down like ash.
There’s no way this night won’t end on a good note. Luka has been nothing but sweet and doting. He wouldn’t be acting like this if the contract weren’t going to me. He’d be warning me, gently cautioning me against getting my hopes up. Trying to protect me from a hard fall.
An older gentleman I don’t recognize slaps Luka on the shoulder. “I heard you did a hell of a job pitching your models for this campaign. Guy’s done nothing but sing DRM’s praises since he flew out here. Says your agency is disrupting the whole industry, rewriting the rules.”
Did he say models? I continue chewing the bite in my mouth.
“Thanks, Sebastian. Fingers crossed it goes our way.”
I narrow my eyes at Luka as the man heads off in another direction.
“Who else did you pitch?” I ask.
Luka just shrugs. “He wanted a new face. I handed over everything I had on the models we’ve signed in the last year or so. But you’re the one I was gunning for all along, I promise.”
I nod, but my throat suddenly feels tight.
I excuse myself to the ladies’ room, toss the rest of my food, and then lock myself in the big stall at the farthest end of the restroom.
I need to get a grip. Of course DRM pitched other models, right?
They can’t take a gamble on just one candidate.
People like to have choices, especially for a campaign this big.
I can’t imagine Luka would fight for anyone more strongly than he’d fight for me.
I reapply my lipstick and a touch of gloss, then fluff my hair and take some calming breaths.
Feeling more centered, I head back out to the ballroom, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray en route.
I find Luka in the center of a group of DRM’s models, all getting their picture taken with toothy grins.
He excuses himself the moment he spots me.
“Feeling better?”
I tip my glass and wink. “Much better. Having fun since I was gone?”
His eyes flash as they fall to my lips. “Finish that drink and I’ll show you some fun.”
Smoothing a hand down his tie, I shake my head. “Not now. You’ll wrinkle my dress.”
I down the rest of my drink and hand off the empty glass just in time for Luka to pull me back out onto the dance floor.
We sway slowly, our bodies pressed tightly together.
“All right, now,” he whispers in my ear. “I can’t say anything for sure—nobody’s seen what’s inside the envelope except for Guy himself—but I talked to him while you stepped out, and let’s just say things are looking good. He assured me I’d be very pleased with the outcome.”
A huge grin splits my face, and it takes all my self-control not to start hopping up and down.
Luka kisses the top of my head, and I lean happily on his shoulder as the slow dance continues.
This whole night has been utterly magical, like a fairy tale.
Luka has been so attentive and kind. Showing me off, hardly leaving my side.
Part of me feels like I should be cautious at the sudden change in our relationship, but I’ve craved this for so long that I don’t want to be scared or second-guess it all.
I just want to enjoy it and hold it close.
This is what our marriage should have been all along, and we have a lot of lost time to make up for.