Mr. Kibbles is curled up with his nose pressed against Luka’s chest, fast asleep.
Brooklyn
Chapter 14
There’s an actual journalist in our house.
Not a glossy, perfectly coiffed media reporter from some fluffy online celebrity blog like we’re used to. Not a writer from an entertainment news channel. In fact, this one is about as far fromCelebrity Chatas you can get. Julia Espinoza is a serious-looking woman in her fifties with a journalism degree and a flawless reputation for reporting the hard facts, and she’s preparing to interview Luka and me in our living room about my father-in-law’s ongoing trial. Onprime time.
I’ve never been this nervous about an interview before, and at this point we’ve done a lot of them. But this is the pinnacle of our PR blitz, and I’m terrified I’ll say the wrong thing. How can Inotfeel intimidated when I know this woman isn’t here to sugarcoat Luka’s dark past or get cutesy quotes from us? She’s going to ask hard, prying questions, completely unrelated to how my modeling career is going or where Luka has his bespoke suits made. She’ll want the ugly truth—the nitty gritty on Konstantin and what went on at KZ modeling behind closed doors.
Luka’s been pacing all morning and I’ve been at a loss as to how to comfort him. He took Mr. Kibbles on two separate walks and then retreated into his office to go over some of the lines Stefan gave him—responses to keep in mind in case the questions get too personal, or if an honest answer might compromise Konstantin’s trial. We also received a list of likely topics.
As for me, I’ve been stress-texting Mateo and trying to take comfort in his efforts to soothe me, in between bouts of frantically tidying our already tidy place. I need to be sure every inch is camera ready. We’ve had interviews in our penthouse before, but this time there’s no staging or set designer. Just Luka and me in our most intimate setting—the sanctuary of our home.
Filming starts in half an hour, so I’m in Luka’s en suite bathroom checking my professionally done hair and makeup. It’s perfect, of course. There’s nothing for me to do, but I can’t quite seem to calm myself down. I hear him moving around in the bedroom, and my heart flutters. We haven’t been together in his bedroom in…well, a long time.
I glance up in the mirror and see him standing in the bathroom doorway. He smiles a little as he catches my eyes in the glass. “Kib’s in his crate. I moved him into my office and loaded him up with chew toys so he won’t bother the film crew.”
I nod. “How are you?” I can see shadows under his eyes and tight lines around his lips.
He shrugs. “Who do you think’s more nervous right now? You or me?”
Damn. I’d hoped that I had a better rein on my feelings. Instead I’ve probably made Luka feel worse by showing how uneasy I am. I force a smile and try to make my voice light.
“Probably you,” I say, dabbing on some lip gloss. “He’s your father, after all. I don’t even know him. I’m just here to offer my support and show the public we’re a united front.”
“Your hand is shaking,” he points out.
I set the gloss down and turn toward him. “I’m more anxious for you than for me,” I admit. “I know there’s a lot riding on this interview, not just for the business but for your whole family’s reputation. And ever since Stefan told you we were doing this, you’ve been totally shut down.” I pause and add, gently, “Even more than usual.”
Luka shrugs, but that’s all I get. “I’m sorry this is upsetting for you, even if it’s on my behalf. I know we haven’t really talked much, but…I can tell you’ve been dreading this, too.”
I’m taken by surprise. Luka’s been paying attention to my feelings? Who is this man?
He looks down and retrieves something from his pocket. I eye him with caution as he opens his hand. A beautiful diamond brooch sits in his palm. The platinum metal is worked into the shape of a sunburst, with a round cluster of diamonds in the center and smaller diamonds trailing down each of the curved rays, with faceted black stones set between each ray.
I gasp. “It’s beautiful.”
He swallows and shifts his weight a little. “It was my mother’s. It’s an antique. This was her favorite for dress-up occasions. I’d like you to wear it for the interview.”
I look up at him. “But it’s a family heirloom,” I say, in awe.
“She’d want you to wear it,” Luka says. “So…will you?”
My hand goes over my heart. “Of course; I’d love to.”
I’m not sure if I should hug him. I don’t want to ruin the moment. Tears prick my eyes and I’m flooded with warmth, even if he’s doing this more for the optics than to calm me.
He doesn’t say anything as he gently turns me toward the mirror and wraps his arms around me to fasten the brooch over the pocket of my dusty rose silk blouse where the material is thick enough to support its weight. It looks absolutely stunning against the fabric.
For a moment we just stand there, the heat of his chest radiating against my back. I can feel my breathing slow, my shoulders start to relax. I’m flooded with a sense of rightness, of belonging—something I’ve been missing ever since we agreed to enter into this relationship. I feel like part of the Zoric family, not just a contractor to it.
“It’s time,” he says, backing up a couple steps and holding his hand out to me.
I take it, letting my husband lead me into the living room where the camera crew has set up their lights and have their cameras perfectly angled. Julia is perched on the edge of our oversized armchair, which she’s angled toward the sofa. Luka has me sit first, and then joins me.
We both smile, but I feel like my face is tighter today. It’s not as easy to plaster on a fake grin. Luka’s hand settles on my thigh and I take it in my own, holding on tight.