The Sham

by Stella Gray

  I don’t let it bother me. I’m still feeling amazingly better after lunch with my almost sisters-in-law yesterday. For the first time, I feel as if I have this whole situation under control. If I could only figure out how to get Luka out of my modeling life, everything would be great.

  He glances around, spots the wardrobe assistant, and snaps his fingers at her. “Get her a full bottom panty. She’s not wearing this.”

  The young girl gives him a deer-in-the-headlights look. “I’ll have to check with—”

  “I don’t care if you have to ask the Pope. Just make it happen. Now.”

  Okay. I’ve had it. It would be bad enough if it were only the styling crew staring at us, but it’s literally everybody in the entire room.

  “Luka!” I grab my robe and slip it back on as I approach him.

  Over by the windows, I see Jane throw her hands up and storm away with her phone in her hand, mumbling something that I’m glad I can’t hear.

  “You’re not doing this to me again,” I hiss. “No one is going to want to work with me if you keep this up.”

  He folds his arms, clearly not budging an inch. “Keep what up? Demanding perfection? Wanting what’s best for you?”

  Irritation washes over me in a flood. “What’s ‘best for me’ is for you to let the other professionals in the room do their jobs.”

  He smiles but it’s icy. “I’ve been in the game for years, Brooklyn. I know what I’m talking about. And I’m not going to let a DRM model get a reputation as a slut.”

  I scoff. “Well, you’re very likely going to end up with a reputation as an asshole.”

  Before I can say another word, he’s walking away. He goes straight to the set, ponders for a moment, and then starts rearranging the furniture. Jane darts back over, waving her hands. I tap my foot, listening to the steady clip, clip, clip of my three-inch heel as I take deep yoga breaths, attempting to gather my frustration into a little ball and toss it away.

  The other models chatter behind me, sighing and laughing in animated whispers. I hear one of them say something about Luka’s ass—or maybe that he’s being an ass—but I don’t eavesdrop. I’m not going to be pulled into their gossip.

  Striding over to the set, I stand there making my presence known as Luka plays with a light meter to gauge the temperature of the bulb. I try to give an apologetic look to the photographer, but she won’t hold my gaze.

  I can only imagine how hard it’s going to be to please her after this. None of the shots will meet her expectations, or else I won’t pose right. Hell, I might not be able to get inside my own head enough to play my part effectively. Suddenly, the set designer comes running over, yelling at Luka in what sounds like Portuguese. They get into a shouting match over the position of the bar stools, and I look to the ceiling.

  I’m going to get totally blackballed because of him.

  I can’t stand here and let this happen. My heels click loudly on the tile floor as I stalk over to Luka. He and the set designer pause to look at me, and I place both hands on my fiancé’s chest before he can say another word, pushing him back. His eyes flash daggers at me but he doesn’t resist.

  “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this. You’re fucking this up for me big time. I need you to stop, I’m saying please, and I won’t say it again. I know that you’re worried about my image, but you’re overdoing it.”

  “I won’t have you walking around with your ass on display. It’s gratuitous.”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve worn a similar outfit clubbing before, Luka.” That gets his full attention. “And I’ve worn a string bikini on the beach, okay? This thong isn’t scandalous. It’s just an undergarment. All models wear them.”

  His hands go to my hips. “Well, you won’t be. You’re going to wear something with full coverage.”

  Kicking Luka in the shin right now wouldn’t do anything but make me look like a toddler throwing a tantrum, but I’m seriously tempted. “Why are you so worried about my virtue? I’m a model. I’m paid to wear what the client wants. And this is what the client wants!”

  His fingers press into me through the thin robe. “The only person who gets to see you running around looking like a little slut is me. That sexy-ass bombshell who sucked my cock while I took pictures? She’s mine.”

  My breath hitches at his crudeness. Yes, he’s being an asshole, but it’s hot to hear him talk about me that way. He’s displayed possessiveness before, but he’s never actually claimed ownership over me until now. His eyes drop to my lips and I watch him with anticipation. There might not be love between us, but lately there’s been something new, something neither of us can deny—a flirtatious awareness of each other, a spark. His behavior on these shoots might be annoying, but I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s his passive-aggressive way of displaying his emotions. It’s obvious that he cares enough to not want my body on display for everyone to see.

  He pulls back, looking over his shoulder for someone. “I said brown-red, not pink-red lips,” he’s yelling out into the room. “Where’s the makeup artist?”

  He breaks away from me and storms off, leaving me almost panting and staring after him.

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. It feels good. It would feel better to give him the middle finger, but I don’t. Instead, I hug my middle and head to the refreshments table where I pour a glass of cucumber water and take a nice long chug. This might take a while. In fact, if Luka has his way, I’m sure all my makeup will need to be redone.

  “That’s quite the show the two of you put on.”

  Heather, one of the other models, pours herself a glass of water across the table from me. She’s gone sans robe and has been strutting around in her lingerie like a peacock despite the slight chill. I’ve spent the past few hours trying to be pleasant to her and Sasha, but I’d have to be blind not to see how her gaze lands on my fiancé now and follows him around.

  “He’s got a vision,” I concede, not wanting to say too much about Luka, or my relationship with him.

  “Really?” she says. “Because to me, it looks more like his compulsive need to dominate is the problem.” She lifts a brow at me over the rim of her glass. “Though he’s always had a bit of a temper. Especially when he doesn’t get his way.”

  Ah. Another one of Luka’s conquests. She’s opened the proverbial door, but I don’t want to walk through it. I move to leave, but she sets her glass down hard, drawing my attention. With a catty grin, she refills it while staring at me.

  “I told him once that I wasn’t going to have a threesome with him and my best friend. Crossing lines and all that. But you know how persuasive he can be and, well, I gave in. Turns out it was the best sex I’ve ever had. He’s…quite talented in that department.”

  I stand to my full height and find myself smiling. It feels surprisingly good to put my shoulders back, straighten my spine, and look down at her. In these heels, I’m a solid two inches taller than she is. Her sneer fades quickly. She probably doesn’t want to crease her makeup, but if she keeps talking, I’ll be happy to mess it up for her.

  “You know what the craziest thing of all is?” I say. “I’m not even bothered by what you just said. Because you’re right. He is talented. In that department.”

  I smile again, and realize my words are genuine. A couple weeks ago, her admission would have wrecked me and twisted me up inside, killing my confidence. But not today.

  She crosses her arms, narrowing her eyes. Clearly this battle isn’t over for her. “How does it feel to know he’s been inside every woman in this room?” She glances over her shoulder pointedly. “The makeup artist, the hairstylist? And the other model, Sasha? He fucked her twice, once in front of an audience at an underground club. Members only, of course.”

  I can’t help it. I actually laugh.

  “I hope he had fun with that,” I say. “Especially considering that his bachelor days are over now.”

  “Mmm, you’re right.” Heather pulls her hair over
one shoulder, still catty as hell. “Though I also recall that he’s a real asshole when he doesn’t get laid enough. Considering how pissy he is today, I have to wonder if you’re not doing a good enough job in bed to keep his temper under control.”

  My fists clench. I’ve never resorted to actual violence in moments of anger, but I’m getting pretty close to going in for my first right hook. Luka and I have been dancing around each other ever since the day he took those pictures of me sucking him off. Every time I get near him, it’s a struggle not to just give in and beg him to let me ride his cock, but I’m still too afraid of getting my heart involved.

  For now, I can handle pissy Luka. And I’m not going to let this woman get the upper hand. If I don’t make any new friends in this industry, oh well. I’ve got Mateo, my family, and maybe even my new sisters. Time to lay it all out for this bitch.

  “You know, Heather,” I say sweetly as I set down my glass and start around the table to her side. “I honestly don’t care if every woman in the state of Illinois has fucked Luka. Because that’s all in the past. And now? I have something they don’t.”

  She stiffens when I stop before her and slap my left hand on the table beside her. She looks down, her nostrils flaring a little as my ridiculous glitter bomb of a diamond ring flashes in the light. I smile big and warm, though I’m sure she can see the murderous glint in my eyes. Lord knows I’m feeling it.

  “And for the record, no one gets to talk shit about my hot-as-fuck fiancé but me.” I take one more step toward her and she backs up. With an indignant huff, she turns and clomps off.

  I don’t bother lowering my voice as I wave and call out toward her retreating back, “He’s in my bed now, sweetheart. Be sure to tell all your friends. Bye bye now.”

  I glare after her with one thought flashing in my mind.

  I may not love Luka…but that man is mine.

  Brooklyn

  Chapter 21

  I stay near the table sipping my glass of water for a few more minutes after Heather storms off. My heart is pounding, but not from stress. Instead it’s pure adrenaline and a heady feeling of self-assurance. I stood up to her. It was empowering, and not something I would normally do. I’ve never been a complete pushover, but I’m not confrontational, either. Being diplomatic is the way to go in most situations. But you need a strong backbone to make it to the top, and though I’ve been working on it, standing up to that bitch was a big step for me.

  I can’t have women with agendas like Heather constantly trying to plow me over with their jealousy and gossip. And I just proved to myself that I have the strength to prevent them from getting to me. Guess I’m a little bit of a badass, after all.

  With a barely suppressed smile, I glance to where Heather has rejoined the other model, Sasha. Their heads are bent together, but I don’t even care what they’re talking about. I’m already over it. Just then, I catch the sight of Luka’s long, muscular body leaning against the wall in the shadows off to my left. He’s pretty relaxed, as if he’s been there for a while. Was he eavesdropping this whole time? That controlling ass.

  An arrogant grin tugs at his gorgeous lips as he saunters over to me with his hands in his pockets, which is more than enough answer to my question. I set my jaw, annoyed that he would lurk, and equally irritated that he did nothing to step in and back me up.

  “How long were you standing there?” I cock my head, challenging him to lie to me.

  “Long enough to appreciate the fact that you can fight your own battles.”

  Pride washes over me, and suddenly I’m glad he didn’t try to intervene. “That’s something you should know by now,” I say, matching his cockiness with a bit of my own.

  He reaches for a glass and pours some water, takes a small sip, and eyes me over the rim of the glass. “You know, the way you talked to Heather about me—got all feisty and possessive? That was pretty hot.”

  I give a nonchalant shrug. “If I’m going to be fully invested in our agreement, I have to act the part. Do you really think I wouldn’t defend our ‘relationship’ in public?”

  Luka’s smile widens and he puts his arm around me, drawing me close.

  “Is that all it was?” he asks, looking down into my eyes. “An act?”

  Tingles race down my spine. “Of course. What else would it be?”

  Our lips are inches apart, body heat flaring between us, and Luka’s gazing at me with an intensity that makes my pussy ache. I almost wish someone would bring me the damn full-ass panty that he was barking orders about so I’d have more of a barrier than this tiny thong between us. Female voices get closer and I glance over to see the other models walking our way. Heather gives Luka a wink and makes a show of sneering at me as they sashay toward us.

  His eyes narrow with a spark of his asshole side—I know he’s about to do something. But I’m still not prepared as he takes my chin to tip my face up, and suddenly he’s kissing me, his arm tightening around my waist as he pulls me tighter against him.

  “Luka,” I half moan, finally drawing away a little to catch my breath.

  Instead of letting up, he steals another searing kiss, cupping my face and tilting my head back so my neck is bared and my breasts push forward. He grins against my lips as if he’s enjoying the little display he’s putting on for the benefit of the other models.

  “You’re mine,” he growls, but it’s only loud enough for me to hear. The timbre of his voice jacks my need and it takes all my willpower not to wrap my leg around his and pull his hips closer to mine. Luka nibbles at my neck and works his way up, and I gasp at the contact.

  Regardless of the fact that this is all for show, the chemistry between us is real.

  My chest hitches at the warm luxury of his mouth brushing across mine gently before he takes my lips again fully, demanding that I part them with a push of his tongue. I do, and his tongue slicks along mine until I’m completely breathless, practically panting in his arms. He cradles the back of my head with the palm of his hand as he pulls away. His eyes are clouded with desire and also something I haven’t seen in him before.

  Pride.

  “What was that for?” I step back and smooth my robe with my palms, realizing that Heather and Sasha are gone. They must have gotten the message after seeing Luka all over me. “And why are you looking at me like that?”

  Glancing around, I see that the photographer and everyone else on the crew has left, too. The set area is empty save for me and Luka, the space completely quiet. They all must have left to take a meal break.

  “Just pleased to see my fiancée turn into such a lioness,” he says.

  “No thanks to you,” I huff. “You could have stepped in. Backed me up some.”

  The dark lust in his eyes deepens and all at once I’m glad everyone is gone…because I’m two seconds away from getting on the table and fucking him right here.

  “You want me to back you up, Brooklyn?” he says. “How about I back you up against the wall and wrap your legs around my waist so I can fuck you hard and deep? Or maybe I’ll back you up against the couch over there and bend you over it so I can take you from behind.”

  “Jesus.” My face flushes hot and I’m so needy and wanting that I can hardly stand still.

  He takes my hand. “I prefer when you call me ‘Oh, God.’”

  “Is that so?” I say, my voice a challenge, my pulse racing.

  Our eyes catch for a hot second and then we’re hurrying from the room and down a hallway. He makes quick work of checking door handles until he finds a room that’s open. We tumble inside, into semi-darkness. He shuts the door quietly, and suddenly my back is pressed against it and his hand is on my hip. He flicks on a light and we both go completely still.

  My eyes dart around the room and I laugh. I can’t help it. Of all the places to fuck in this luxury building, we found a storage closet. The corners of his eyes crinkle. “We’re the adventurous kind, aren’t we?”

  “You could say that,” I agree.

&nbs
p; He laughs, and this banter feels good. It’s light and easy, and sexy because we’re sharing this odd moment in an even odder place. Just then, the overhead light shuts off. He laughs again, and then the soft glow of his cellphone flashlight illuminates the room.

  “Oooh, ambiance,” I croon.

  “Now you don’t have to worry about stepping in a mop bucket while I make you come.”

  His hands and lips are suddenly everywhere, and I surrender to his ministrations. He opens the tie to my robe. It flutters open, bringing cool air over my desire-heated skin. I shiver and Luka responds by running hot kisses over my collarbone, between my breasts, and down my torso. Clutching his head between my hands, I run my fingers through his hair and let my head fall back against the door.

  Trails of electric pleasure follow the path of his lips across my skin. His kisses are eager and urgent, but soothing. I moan softly at the delicate pleasure, panting when Luka traces a finger along the front of my thong. The fabric is fragile, and he could easily rip it off me. Instead he brushes it carefully to the side, taking care to let the pads of his fingers trail along my sensitive, needy skin. Then he drops to his knees and pulls my left leg over his shoulder, his finger tracing the seam of my bare pussy.

  With a gasp, I push into his touch, needing more.

  He looks up at me. He’s so wickedly handsome on his knees for me that I swear I might orgasm just from the sight of him. The light gives him an angelic glow, and I want to crack a joke, but the intensity of his expression robs me of clear thought.