“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 moneytheyearned on a fundraiser that’s ostensibly forthem? 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.
“If you don’t shut your mouth, I’ll shut it for you.” His voice was threatening, but low enough that only I could hear it. “I’ll push you down on your knees and force my cock down your throat. You won’t be able to say one more word while I’m fucking your mouth—while everyone sees that you’re just as much of a whore as the women benefiting from this charity.”
His words were coarse. Disgusting. Unbelievably cruel. But somehow, it was hot anyway.
“Don’t you have enough women’s mouths to enjoy?” I spat back at him, clinging to my rage in self-defense.
He laughed. “Jealous, are we? And here I thought your own mouth was too busy with your little friend’s cock for you to even think about mine. What’s his name? Gavin, isn’t it? You two having a lot of fun these days?”
