The Act

by Stella Gray

  She didn’t seem to notice. “And that new headshot of yours. We’ll have to get that retaken. It’s not appropriate. I mean honestly Ford, facial hair? It just isn’t professional.”

  She waited for Ford to respond, but he didn’t.

  “Actually, people don’t really mind a bit of scruff these days,” I cut in, unable to listen to her anymore. “The current generation is…less judgmental.”

  Mr. Malone nodded at me, though he didn’t contradict his wife.

  Still, I knew what I was talking about when it came to headshots, and Ford’s mother was just plain wrong about Ford’s. It was professional and well-lit and fit in well with every other photo that Malone Real Estate had on their site. If anything, the headshot of Ford’s mother was the one that needed to be replaced. It was straight out of the eighties, with soft focus lighting and obvious Photoshopping that was clearly intended to make her look younger, but instead just made her skin look waxy and dull, like a doll’s.

  “The photo is good,” I reiterated. “In my professional photographer’s opinion.”

  Mrs. Malone just sniffed. Ford looked miserable. It made me want to stick up for him, so I figured I might as well sing his praises.

  “I’m not sure if Ford mentioned it,” I said, “but he gave a seminar on the business of real estate last weekend for my nonprofit, and the students absolutely loved it. He’s an excellent teacher. And if he’s half as good at his job as he is at talking about it, I have complete faith that he’s worth his weight in gold at MREH.”

  Ford’s parents were both staring at me now. Then a smile—one I didn’t trust—forced its way onto Mrs. Malone’s face.

  “Well isn’t that lovely,” she cooed. “I’ve heard all about your little charity, Mara. All the good it does. And you know what, we should all be helping out. Don’t you think so, Ford?”

  “Ford already helped out a lot by teaching the class,” I tried to say, but his mother ignored me.

  “I think we should throw a big fundraiser to help out, don’t you?” she kept going. “A big shindig, with all of Chicago’s cream of the crop. Why, I know the perfect person to help.”

  My heart sank. I knew exactly who she meant and where all of this was going. And the worst part was, I’d basically walked right on into it.

  Ford’s parents were taking over, just like they’d done with my marriage. Only this time, they had their sights set on my charity—inserting fucking Claudia into the one thing in my life that I was most proud of, which frankly I’d busted my ass to build from the ground up.

  Claudia. It was always Claudia.

  I couldn’t help wondering if there was some sort of blackmail at play. Did Claudia’s family somehow own the Malones, have dirt on them the way the Malones had something on my family? It would make sense.

  I looked over at Ford, hoping he would object. But as usual, he didn’t.

  Instead he just looked at me and shrugged. “Claudia is good at fundraisers.”

  My heart sank even lower.

  “You see?” Mrs. Malone crowed. “It will be perfect.”

  Right. Of course it would be.

  Emzee

  Chapter 17

  I managed to keep my composure about the Claudia/fundraiser situation while Ford’s parents were still over, for Ford’s sake. The last thing I wanted to do was stand up for him one moment and then go on the attack the next over him not defending me. But I couldn’t wait for the senior Malones to depart, so Ford and I could be alone again. Because I was ready to unload.

  As soon as we’d all said our good nights and Jacques and Pierre had left, I turned on Ford.

  “I think that went…slightly better than last time,” he said. “All things considered.”

  “Why did you let your parents say that Claudia could help with the program?” I blurted.

  He looked at me blankly.

  “I…thought it was a good idea,” he said. “Don’t you want the program to get more exposure? That’s what Claudia’s good at. Her family is even better connected than mine. She knows everybody.”

  “But it’s Claudia! Are you seriously going to stand here and tell me you think she has my best interests in mind?”

  Of course I liked the idea of promoting the program, getting more support and attention focused on it. And we could definitely benefit from more donations—and ideally more mentors. But at the same time, I was concerned about what Claudia would do with something I cared about so much in her vengeful, perfectly manicured hands. She knew how important See Yourself was to me. I didn’t trust her one bit, and I really didn’t want her involved.

  Ford frowned, as if the implications of having his ex-girlfriend throw a fundraiser for someone she despised were only just now starting to sink in.

  “Shit,” he said. “I didn’t even think—”

  “No. You didn’t. That’s the problem.”

  Stalking down the hall to the bedroom, I tried to slow my breathing. I knew my anger was clouding my judgment. The thing was, it felt like we had just gotten Claudia’s ghost out of the apartment, out of our lives, and now she’d been invited right back in—and onto my turf, no less. See Yourself was the one area of my life where I should have had full control. But as far as the Malones were concerned, nothing, not even the nonprofit I had founded, was sacred. The power was all theirs.

  “Em,” Ford said gently, following me into the room.

  I let Munchkin out of his kennel, where he’d been forlornly awaiting his liberation all evening, and he shot straight to Ford without so much as a thank-you slobber for me first.

  “Traitor,” I murmured, shaking my head. To Ford, I said, “I’m getting ready for bed.”

  When I slid under the covers beside him twenty minutes and one hot shower later, I was slightly more calm. Before I could say anything, Ford had turned to me and taken my hand.

  I’m sorry,” he told me. “I was just so focused on what a great opportunity it would be for you and the program that I wasn’t even thinking about Claudia. I understand if you want to call the whole thing off.”

  Sighing, I shook my head. “I don’t know. I feel like the ball is already rolling. It just makes me so anxious to have my nemesis in charge of anything to do with the nonprofit.”

  Ford nodded, his eyes searching mine. “I understand. Although at this point, she honestly seems to mean more to you than she does to me.”

  For a second, I couldn’t process his words. Was he trying to say that Claudia didn’t matter to him anymore? That I cared more about their former relationship than he did?

  “I meant what I said before,” he went on. “I can get rid of Claudia if you want.”

  “Okay…” I said, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “But before I do, maybe you can really think about everything you could accomplish with her and my parents’ backing. I know it sounds shitty, but we should take advantage of it. You and your mentees would have access to so many resources. Isn’t that the most important thing?”

  “I will think about it,” I said, leaning back against my pillows.

  Ford turned off the lights, and we settled in, but I couldn’t get comfortable, and I wasn’t even remotely tired with the way my brain was kicking into overdrive.

  Ugh. I hated to admit it, but Ford was right. I was being unreasonable.

  I couldn’t let my feelings for Claudia get in the way of something that could be genuinely beneficial to my organization in the long run. Because as much as I disliked her on a personal level, I also knew that she was a pro when it came to hosting fundraisers and galas. It was practically her superpower.

  Sure, she’d probably use any opportunity she could to get back in with Ford, but she was probably going to do that anyway, fundraising or not. After all, she had the rest of the Malone family on her side. I should probably be grateful that she hadn’t been invited to dinner tonight.

  The other (depressingly obvious) thing I needed to take into account was that my relationship with Ford wasn
’t even real. Our whole marriage was a sham—a sham with a ticking clock attached to it. I had no right to be jealous and possessive about his exes. Especially since there was no doubt in my mind that the minute the ink had dried on the divorce papers, Claudia would be all over him, offering him her “support.” It was inevitable.

  Even though I hated thinking about it, I had to be realistic.

  Did I want to work with Claudia? Hells to the no. Did I know—in my deepest of hearts—that she would be able to bring money and attention to a cause I would give my right tit for? Yes. There were just so many people we could help with this.

  Mid-turmoil, Munchkin let out a cartoonishly loud doggie snore from his bed across the room. Ford let out a chuckle, and then Munchie did it again, and before I knew it I was joining in with the giggles, Ford and I both laughing until we were gasping for breath.

  “He sounds like the tiniest little chainsaw,” I said, which set off Ford all over again.

  Once I had myself under control, I slid over to Ford’s side of the bed and climbed on top of him, nuzzling his neck as his hands came around to massage my back.

  “Okay,” I said, sighing.

  Ford paused. “Okay what?”

  Judging by the growing bulge in his pants, he had no idea that I was referring to the fundraiser, rather than suggesting we have sex. Not that I was opposed.

  “I’ll let the fundraiser happen. I’ll accept Claudia’s help,” I said. “Your parents’ too. If they’re willing to help with See Yourself, I’d be happy to have them.”

  He took a moment before saying, “I’m glad. I think it’s the right thing to do.”

  I wasn’t exactly sure about that myself, but I hoped he was right. While we were on the topic of his parents, however, there was one more thing I wanted to discuss.

  “One more thing,” I said, just as Ford slid his hand down the back of my pj pants.

  His hand stilled, mid-grab. “Yes?” he asked.

  It was clear from his tone that he was done talking. But this was important.

  “I don’t understand your relationship with your parents,” I said. “Why you’re so set on pleasing them all the time when it seems like nothing you do ever makes them happy.”

  “That’s not true,” Ford said defensively.

  “It isn’t? They were nothing but disparaging tonight,” I pointed out. “Your mom found something to criticize about everything—the deal you made, your new hire, even your headshot. And your dad, no offense, might be the most passive person I’ve ever met.”

  Ford sighed, kissed my forehead, and then gently moved my body off of his. Apparently any possibility of sex was now off the table.

  “My parents have high standards,” he said. “All Malones do.”

  Then he rolled over, his back facing me.

  “Why do you let them be so hard on you?” I asked, refusing to let it go so easily.

  “I don’t let them do anything.”

  “But—”

  “You don’t know anything about my family,” he said harshly. “Let it go.”

  “Well, I’d like to,” I said. “I’d like to understand.”

  I held my breath, hoping he would talk to me. Confide in me. Like he used to back in high school. And for a long, long moment, I thought he might. But then he just let out a sigh.

  “It’s complicated,” he said. “End of discussion.”

  Feeling dejected, I stared up at the ceiling, listening to his breathing smooth out, wondering if I’d ever get the truth about his family. If I’d ever get the truth about anything from him.

  Maybe it was time to stop hoping I would.

  Emzee

  Chapter 18

  The last time I’d been called in for a private conference at DRM with my brothers, Stefan had told us that the Russian mob was threatening our family. I was praying today’s team meeting wouldn’t be a repeat of that. I’d gotten more than enough negativity dumped on me lately.

  “Sorry I’m late!” I apologized as I burst through the door. “It took forever to get Munch checked in at the doggie daycare, and then the traffic downtown was—”

  “It’s all good,” Luka said. “Have a seat.”

  Neither he nor Stefan looked as if the executioner’s axe was about to drop, so I relaxed a little into my chair as Stefan poured us all coffee. And I took it as a good sign that my brothers seemed unbothered by my tardiness. Maybe they even had some positive news to share.

  How wrong I was.

  “Things going okay at home?” Stefan asked me. “You and Ford getting along?”

  “Um.” My cheeks heated, and I took a quick gulp of coffee to stall. “We’re great,” I lied.

  “Good, good,” Stefan said, nodding. “What about See Yourself? Still going strong?”

  I glanced over at Luka, confused about the line of questioning, but he wouldn’t meet my gaze. “The nonprofit is fine. Ford just taught a fantastic real estate seminar and the Malones are helping put together a big fundraiser for it. I’m not sure when, but you’ll all be invited.”

  “Nice,” Luka said, forcing a smile. “I can’t wait.”

  Enough was enough.

  “Why are you two acting so weird?” I huffed, looking back and forth between my brothers. “And what’s with the interrogation? I thought we were here to talk about Danica Rose, not my personal life. Somebody better start talking.”

  Luka rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh. “All right, Stefan,” he said. “Why don’t you get down to it?”

  Instinctively, I held my breath. Of course it would have been too much to hope that the Russian mob would just disappear on its own. But that was exactly why I’d bargained with the devil—er, Mrs. Malone. In order to make the Bratva go away. Was she not holding up her end of the agreement? My stomach started to churn.

  Stefan nodded. “Okay. The reason I’m asking about your life is because…there’s still a very real possibility looming that DRM will go under and all of us will end up jobless and starting from scratch—”

  “If not actually murdered in our sleep,” Luka cut in.

  “Luka!” Stefan scolded.

  “Sorry,” Luka said with a shrug. “I’m just saying.”

  “Anyway. I’m still not convinced we’ll be able to work things out with the Bratva, so I’d like all of us to have a contingency plan in place. The subject certainly bears consideration,” Stefan finished.

  “Hope for the best and prepare for the worst?” I added.

  My brothers nodded grimly.

  “I can appreciate the practicality,” I said, trying to lighten the mood.

  “Yeah,” Luka said drily. “Thanks for that, Dad.”

  “Look, at the end of the day I’m not trying to run anyone’s life—I just want to make sure we’re all okay.” Stefan looked grim as he drank his coffee.

  “What will you do if the agency folds?” I asked him.

  I felt a little sick just saying it out loud. I didn’t miss what KZ Modeling had been, but Danica Rose was ours. My brothers and I had built the agency back up from the charred ashes of personal and professional ruin that our criminal father had left it in, and it would break my heart if it was taken away from us. Especially because of something our father had done.

  “I’ve been thinking about it,” Stefan confessed, leaning back in his chair. “Especially with a baby on the way. But I’ll be fine. I’ve made a ton of business connections and I know I could hit up my contacts and find someone looking for help running their company.”

  Smiling, I added, “And with Tori’s Linguistics degree and her gift for languages, international business would be a natural next step if it comes down to it.”

  “Indeed,” Stefan said. He looked over at Luka, who nodded.

  “Brooklyn and I will be okay too,” Luka said. “I’m sure if we put feelers out, we’d find clients interested in any kind of advertising and marketing firm we started. And actually, with Brooklyn’s background in modeling and my MBA, we could encapsulate wh
atever type of modeling business we want, and use her experience and connections to get it off the ground.”

  Now both of my brothers were looking at me expectantly, and I realized that this meeting was more about my plans than theirs. They seemed to have everything well in hand, but they were obviously worried about what would happen to their little sister if DRM folded.

  I was both touched and annoyed at their concern. After all, I was an adult, too. A grown-ass woman with a fancy photography degree, a banging portfolio under my belt, and—most importantly—years of professional job experience

  “Guess I’ll find out if art really can pay the bills,” I said lightly.

  They exchanged a look.

  “What about Ford?” Stefan asked. “You think he’d be okay with supporting you for a bit, if necessary? Just until you figure things out.”

  Bristling at the insinuation that I might not be able to pull my own weight with my photography gigs, I lashed out with, “Well he can certainly afford to cover me, can’t he?”

  I was feeling more snappish than they’d probably expected, even though it wasn’t their fault that we were in this mess—and it really wasn’t their fault that I’d entered into a contract first with Ford and then with his family…both of which were bound to make me miserable at the end of the year. But I still wasn’t ready to admit any of that to my brothers.

  They had no idea I’d gambled all of our futures—and the future of Danica Rose—on my fake marriage, hoping against hope that the upcoming year would give us enough time to pull off this deus ex machina.

  I decided I’d better head them off at the pass before they could ask more questions about me and Ford, so I volunteered, “I was actually just speaking with Andrew Apellido about a job opportunity recently. Have you heard of him?”

  “Andrew Apellido?” Luka’s eyebrows went up. “Holy shit, dude’s a legend! I love that guy. He launched a new magazine project a few months ago. Stefan, have you checked it out?”