The Deal (Arranged Book 1)

by Stella Gray

  This would be the first significant time spent with them since the wedding, when our interactions had been brief and perfunctory. If the huge reception didn’t count, we’d never all sat down and had a meal together. I was looking forward to getting to know them better.

  Four pairs of eyes turned toward me as I entered the living room. Three pairs assessed me with appraising once-overs—Stefan, his brother, and his father—and all seemed to approve of my dress. I ignored Konstantin’s overly familiar gaze, and turned a friendly smile toward Stefan’s younger brother, Luka. Ignoring the way his eyes were still weighing me up, I slid past him to greet my sister-in-law, Emzee.

  During the wedding, she had been the friendliest of the family, unabashedly eager to get to know me better. I didn’t know much about her personally, except that she was the baby of the family at twenty-two, and that her photography career was mostly centered around the family business.

  “It’s so good to see you again! I love your dress,” Emzee told me.

  “It’s good to see you all again, too. Now that we’re all here, shall we move into the dining room?” I asked, wanting to appear as much of a proper trophy wife as possible.

  I had a feeling it was important to put on that show for Stefan’s family, especially his father. I didn’t love it, but I had accepted it as part of the deal. I really didn’t like how Konstantin seemed to always be standing just a little too close to me. He was unbearably creepy, his eyes dragging over my body as I walked across the room.

  I didn’t know where to look. I could barely look at Stefan; I knew if I did, I’d think of what had just happened in the closet and the last thing I wanted was to be blushing and flushed in front of his family. I had zero experience trying to act casual after a sexual encounter.

  We all sat down to a beautifully set table, Konstantin on one end, Stefan on the other. I was seated at Stefan’s right hand, with Emzee and Luka across from me. Wine was poured, the food was served, and immediately everyone began discussing work. I shouldn’t have been surprised.

  “How was casting in Budapest?” Konstantin asked Stefan. “Did you find the kind of girls we’re looking for?”

  Stefan nodded, not looking at me. “I think you’ll be pleased with the options.”

  “Options are good,” Luka added, clearly looking for some way to contribute to the conversation. Emzee caught my gaze and flashed me an eye-roll.

  Out of all of Stefan’s family, Luka was the one I’d had the least amount of contact with. Though he was polite enough toward me at the wedding, he’d seemed like a total party boy—and no stranger to women—which was why I hadn’t given him Grace’s number. Not yet, anyway.

  Not that I could blame him. He was young, handsome and rich, with his own MBA freshly under his belt. Of course he wanted to have fun, wield all those gifts to his advantage—especially when he saw the toll that working at KZM took on someone like Stefan, who seemed incapable of having any fun that wasn’t specifically sanctioned by the agency.

  “We’re going to need at least a dozen more girls in the next month,” Konstantin said, ignoring his youngest son.

  “I’m working on it,” Stefan said. “You’ll get what you need.”

  “It’s not what I need,” Konstantin said, and laughed. “It’s what the clients need.”

  Something about the way he said ‘the clients’ made my gut twist, but I didn’t know why. I had to admit, Konstantin made me feel ill at ease in general. It probably had to do with the way I’d seen him hovering outside the balcony doors at my birthday party, spying on my conversation with Stefan and the kiss we’d shared after the proposal.

  “I’ll send you a list of requirements,” Konstantin said, spearing a piece of asparagus on his plate.

  I wanted to ask questions about the business, show that I was interested in and capable of following the conversation, but it was clear by everyone’s tone and body language that this discussion was for the Zoric family only. Is this what it felt like to be a mafia wife?

  I ate quietly, listening passively, perking up only when I heard a familiar name.

  “I’m surprised Oksana didn’t return with you last month,” Konstantin said. “We were expecting her in the States.”

  Stefan gave an overly casual shrug, and suddenly I felt his hand on my knee.

  “We never met up with her in Budapest,” he said. “She was a no show. I’ve been trying to chase her down, but she’s been out of pocket.”

  His finger tap-tap-tapped against my knee, signaling me to keep quiet. Why was he lying to his father? I was full of questions. Questions I was sure I’d never get any straight answers to.

  I was confused, and more than a little annoyed. Stefan had ignored me throughout the entire dinner and now he was expecting me to cover for him? I debated ‘accidentally’ exposing his lies to his father, asking if he meant the same Oksana who had taken me sightseeing.

  But as upset as I was with Stefan, I disliked my father-in-law more. Whatever was going on with Oksana, it was clearly being kept a secret for a reason. And I didn’t want Konstantin to find out. In fact, I would have been more comfortable if Konstantin knew literally nothing about my life with Stefan, including the people we’d met up with on our honeymoon.

  Konstantin seemed to notice that something unspoken was happening between me and Stefan, because he turned his unwelcome attention toward me again, those greedy, overly familiar eyes lingering too long on my breasts as he took a bite of his bloody, rare steak.

  “And how is the little wifey enjoying her new palace?” he asked, gesturing around the room with his knife.

  “It’s lovely,” I said. And then I excused myself from the table.

  When I came out of the bathroom, I found someone waiting for me. It wasn’t Stefan, and thankfully it wasn’t Konstantin. It was Luka.

  He was leaning against the wall, but he straightened up when I started to walk back toward the dining room. He put his arm out, blocking my exit.

  “Excuse me,” I said, flashing a tight smile. He’d been drinking vodka cocktails heavily the whole night, and I could tell by his glassy eyes that he wasn’t anywhere near sober.

  “You look good tonight.” He gave me a long, appraising look, but it was different from the leer I’d received from his father. Luka’s look was more clinical. Like he was trying to figure me out.

  “Thank you,” I said, trying to be polite. “The restroom’s all yours.”

  But he didn’t budge, just flashed me the charming smile that I’d seen work so well on all the single women at my wedding. He needn’t have bothered. Luka was cute and charming, but that didn’t change the fact that I was married to his brother. And I also wasn’t interested. Especially after what had happened between me and Stefan in the closet.

  “You’re beautiful enough to be one of our talents,” he said as he leaned closer to me, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. “Would you like to model for me?”

  “No thank you,” I told him firmly, but he didn’t seem to listen.

  He reached out, pushing my hair back from my shoulders, exposing my neck. I hoped there weren’t visible marks, considering how hard Stefan had been sucking and biting me there.

  “I think you would,” he said. “I think you’d get off on it. You strike me as the kind of girl who likes to be the center of attention.”

  “I’m not interested,” I said, inching backward. I would have run, but there was nowhere to go. He was blocking the only way out of the hallway.

  “I’d show you a good time,” he said, stepping closer again. “It doesn’t seem like Stefan will care.”

  I didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t letting me through, he wasn’t listening to anything I was saying, and his hands kept reaching out to graze my hair, my shoulders, my neck, as if I was nothing more than a bolt of fabric for him to fondle. I should have pushed him away, or yelled for help, but I was paralyzed.

  “Please let me pass,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. />
  Luka put his hand on my upper arm, starting to squeeze. Suddenly he was yanked away from me, grunting in pain as Stefan pinned him against the wall, his feet off the ground.

  “Don’t. Touch. Her,” Stefan growled.

  “I didn’t do shit,” Luka snarled back, but his face was abashed. “Put me down.”

  Stefan got in his face. “If I find you alone with her again, I’ll fucking kill you. Nod if you understand.”

  I believed him, and it was clear that Luka did as well. His skin went ashy, and he stopped fighting. They glared at each other in a standoff for a tense moment and then Luka finally nodded. Stefan released his brother, who then stalked down the hall, back toward the dining room.

  I was practically shaking, adrenaline still rushing, and was about to thank Stefan when he turned to me with vile hatred in his eyes.

  “I signed up to marry a virgin,” he told me, as if it were a threat. “Make sure that’s what I get.” He walked away before I could say anything.

  I sagged against the wall, torn between relief and disappointment. I was glad Stefan had saved me from his brother. But my husband had also confirmed, without any doubt, that I was nothing more than a trophy to him.

  Tori

  Chapter 19

  I wanted to punch a wall.

  If I knew how to do anything after spending a lifetime with a politician for a father, it was how to pretend that everything was fine even when it wasn’t. So despite my altercation with Luka, my objectification by Stefan, and my persistent uneasiness around Konstantin, I’d spent the rest of the evening silently fuming behind polite engagement and a cheerful smile. Michelle would have been proud.

  For their part, Stefan and Luka managed to finish dinner without looking at each other or saying anything directly to the other. If Konstantin or Emzee noticed, they said nothing. Everyone acted as if everything was fine and normal. At one point in the evening, Emzee had pulled me aside to help her find a bottle opener in the kitchen (as if I’d know, anyway) and she’d quietly apologized for how her father and brothers were behaving.

  “They’re always like this,” she said with a sigh. “It’s always work, work, work. As if the world revolves around the agency.”

  “Sounds familiar,” I said with a smile, trying to make light of it as I rifled through utensil drawers.

  “Well, if it ever gets to be too much, just call me,” Emzee said. “I’ll come kidnap you and we’ll go have a night out on the town, or do the River Walk. Maybe get our nails done.”

  This time my smile was genuine. “I’d love that. Really.”

  I handed her the opener.

  Her face lit up. “Ooh, and have you been to the Logan Theatre?”

  “Is that in Logan Square?” I asked. “They play all the indie movies and foreign films, right?”

  Emzee nodded. “It looks like nothing from the outside, but on the inside it’s totally wall-to-wall Art Deco. It’s to die for. Like going back in time. And they have a full bar!”

  “That sounds amazing,” I said. “Guess I’ll have to break out my fake ID.”

  “Gah, I keep forgetting you’re underage!” she said, squeezing my arm. “We’ll both get Shirley Temples, then.”

  We exchanged cell numbers and she had promised to reach out soon.

  Back at the table, I finally gave in and drank a glass of the wine Emzee had offered me, just to try and relax. I hated the way Stefan was treating me, like we were back to square one, but I didn’t know what to do about it. I wanted the man who had finger fucked me in the closet, not the man who was treating me like an object, or the man who acted distant and unyielding about the terms of our marriage, who was so on-edge about work all the time that he barely acknowledged me.

  I was angry at myself, too. I knew the kind of man he was, yet I kept setting myself up for disappointment. And I was in denial about where our relationship might be able to go.

  Finally his family left, and we were alone. Stefan didn’t even look at me, just undid his tie, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt and grabbed a last drink before heading into the bedroom. I followed him. I wasn’t going to let him ignore me. Not tonight. Not after what had happened in the closet and then later, with Luka.

  I was so angry I was practically shaking like the ice cubes in Stefan’s whiskey glass.

  “You know I have to say, for someone who’s so obsessed with the fact that I’m a virgin, you’re pretty fucking prudish yourself,” I said. The wine had made me bold.

  I wanted to push him to the edge. Wanted to make him break so I could get past his walls, the way that he had made me break into a million pieces in the closet.

  He ignored me, but I could see his shoulders tense. It was working.

  “In fact, I bet you couldn’t close the deal if you tried,” I went on. “If I waited for you, I’d still have my hymen intact for my fiftieth birthday. But maybe that’s what you want. The big man’s gotta have all the control, right? Are you a big man, Stefan? Keeping me locked up tight like jewels in a safe so nobody can ever touch me?”

  He turned to face me, anger in his eyes. Good. I wanted him angry. I wanted him pissed.

  “Maybe I should call Luka up,” I taunted, knowing it would drive him over the top. “Because if you’re not going to do anything about my virgin status, I know for a fact that he will.”

  Suddenly, Stefan was in front of me, grabbing my upper arms with a vice grip.

  “While you’re married to me, your body is mine. Nobody else touches you. Do you understand?”

  He was breathing hard, his eyes intense.

  It was incredibly hot.

  “If you ever even speak about giving your body to someone else, I swear to god I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” I goaded him. The tension between us was so taut I could almost feel it, like a rubber band about to snap. And yet, I wanted it to break. I wanted to break through the barriers between us. I wanted to make him lose control, give in to me.

  His face was so close to mine that I could feel his breath on my cheeks.

  “I don’t think you’ll do a goddamn thing,” I said, smirking.

  His lips crashed down on mine

  It was just like it had been earlier that day. Wild, frenzied, and totally, completely hot. This time, however, we were alone. No one else in our apartment. Nothing was going to stop us from finishing what we had started all those hours before.

  Stefan’s tongue was hot on mine. I was ready for more, ready to take what he had to offer. I fumbled for his shirt, wanting to get rid of everything that was between us.

  But before I could undo a single button, Stefan’s hands were around my wrists.

  “Don’t,” he ordered, forcing my arms up and above my head.

  He walked me backwards to the wall, pressing me up against it, green eyes blazing. I couldn’t have slipped his grasp if I’d tried. It was so fucking hot to be pinned there, unable to move. With one hand holding my wrists together, he ran his other down the side of my neck, down over my cleavage until it reached the neckline of my dress.

  “Did I pay for this?” he asked.

  I nodded wordlessly, my entire body throbbing with need.

  With a hard jerk, he ripped the fabric from my body. The dress tore at the seams and fell to the floor, the material crumpling at my feet. I gasped with the shock and pleasure of it all. I stood in front of him wearing nothing but my heels, lace panties, and matching strapless bra.

  “You’re mine,” Stefan said, thrusting his knee between my legs, forcing them wide.

  His thigh was hard as it pressed almost painfully against me, stimulating my clit, and the sensation was so intense that I almost came from the pressure. Stefan caught my little groan of pleasure with his mouth, his hand still pinning me to the wall. I rode his thigh as his other hand tore my bra away, grinding hungrily against him.

  I was naked except for my underwear, and just like when we were in the closet before, he was still fully dressed. His hand went to my breas
t, grabbing my nipple and twisting it roughly. It hurt, but I liked it. I liked it a lot, and I moaned against his mouth.

  “More,” I begged.

  “You’re mine,” he said, twisting the other nipple. “Say it. Tell me who you belong to.”

  “I belong to you,” I gasped.

  His hand left my breast and I let out a sigh of disappointment, one that was quickly silenced as my underwear was torn away and his finger slid down to stroke my clit.

  “You’re so wet for me,” he rasped, and then shoved his finger deep inside me.

  I cried out. The penetration felt even more intense this time, even deeper now that I had already climaxed just hours ago, and it wasn’t long before he added another finger and was fucking me hard with both of them, my pussy stretching to accommodate their thickness.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he growled against my throat. “Your soaking wet little pussy is going to feel so good on my cock.”

  My knees went weak as he whispered all these dirty, forceful things to me. I wanted all of it. And I wanted it now.

  Apparently, he couldn’t wait either, because he released his grip on my wrists.

  “Go to the bed,” he ordered, slapping my ass—hard—when I didn’t move fast enough.

  I nearly raced across the room, turning to find that he was taking his clothes off with quick, jerking movements.

  “Get up on the bed and spread your legs,” he told me. “Leave your shoes on.”

  I did as he said, straining my neck to watch him as he peeled off his clothes. Finally naked, he was even more gorgeous than I had imagined, his cock long and rigid and perfectly formed. Something about the sight of it made my mouth water.

  He stalked toward the bed, and I spread my legs even wider for him, my heels digging into the down comforter. I wanted this so bad. I was ready to do whatever he wanted.

  “Are you on the pill?” he asked, crawling onto the bed.

  I nodded, my throat dry.