by Stella Gray
“It wasn’t for show,” he says. “That was real.”
“Mm-hmm. Having been on set with you two myself, I’d say the chemistry certainly wasn’t fake. Did you know that your wife was up to something at that point?”
“You know,” Luka says, leaning forward, “I think the best thing might actually be for me to tell the truth about all of this in my own words, without all the questions. May I?”
There’s a slight pause as the host seems to confer with someone off-camera. My heart leaps into my throat.
“Of course, please do,” she says with a nod.
A fresh glass of wine appears beside me. I grab it from Mateo’s hand and take a huge gulp as Luka takes a breath.
“I think it’s important to address the rumors that are out there right now, so I’ll start off by saying that everything Brooklyn admitted to is true. Except for one thing. I did know about her contract with Elite. Not from the start, but she showed it to me on our honeymoon. I also know, without a doubt, that she never intended to go through with the deal. Those papers sat around, forgotten and untouched, for weeks. She never signed the contract, and she never carried out any of these alleged spying activities.
“Look, I’ll admit that our marriage was a sham. We absolutely entered into a marriage of convenience. She was going to help me clean up my image and turn DRM’s reputation around, and in return, she’d get a career boost. But it wasn’t Brooklyn on her own in the sham, and it was never about her being a gold digger or trying to trick me.”
My throat goes tight. Oh, Luka.
“If what you’re saying is true,” the host prods, “then why would she say the things she did? Her side of the story is that she lied to you and everyone at the agency all along.”
Luka spreads his hands and looks at the camera. His gaze catches mine and I swear I can feel him trying to reach me through the television.
“To protect me, I think. She wanted to take the entire fall to spare me any backlash. Because that’s how she is. Always ready to take a bullet for someone else.”
The interviewer nods. She smiles. “You’re making her sound very selfless.”
“She is,” Luka says firmly. “It’s one thing I learned very early on. She’ll admit when she’s wrong, and she’s not afraid to suffer consequences if it’ll protect the people she loves.”
“So…what I’m hearing from you is that you two had sparks initially, and then you both agreed to this marriage for your mutual benefit. And that you were aware, relatively early on, that Brooklyn had involvement with Elite Image. But ultimately, when it came to the portrayal of the relationship in the media, it was all acting? None of it was, in fact, real?”
Luka slowly shakes his head. “No, that’s not right.”
“Which part?” the host asks.
“I mean yes, our marriage started out as a mutually beneficial relationship, but that’s not where it ended up.”
“How so?”
My heart hammers in my chest as I hang on Luka’s every word, knowing that what he says next could make or break our entire marriage.
“Well…” Luka starts, his gaze searching as he looks off into the distance for a moment, “I have to say, I knew almost immediately that I was going to lose my heart to my wife. I fought it, naturally. Especially given the circumstances under which we got together. But it didn’t take long before I gave up trying to hide my feelings, and it was obvious that she was feeling it, too.”
Tears are rolling down my face, and Mateo takes my half-empty glass and hands me a wad of tissues as Luka goes on.
“When I said ‘I do,’ I meant it—and I’m still fully committed to our relationship, regardless of what the media thinks. I love Brooklyn more than anything. More than the agency, more than my image, more than any pressure the world might try to put on us.” He looks at the camera again as if he’s searching for me. “It’s the realest thing I’ve ever felt.”
Brooklyn
Chapter 27
The interview is over. The show has moved on to the next segment, yet I can’t turn away from the screen. My mind is blown. Did I really just hear what I think I did?
Mateo touches my arm and I look over, still in shock.
“Are you okay, Brookie?”
It hits me then. Why he was so insistent about controlling the remote and why he chose the gossip channel to begin with. “You knew about this all along. Didn’t you.”
He grimaces. “Don’t be pissed at me. I had a few little chats with Luka and he strongly encouraged me to make sure you watched the show, but I didn’t know exactly what he was going to say. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but honestly. Would you have cooperated if I had?”
“I don’t know.”
Luka loves me. He said it on national television. He still wants to be with me. He said I’m more important than his image, his work, other modeling contracts. I can hardly believe it.
“What do I do now?” I ask. I’m too overwhelmed to think straight.
Mateo turns my face toward him, and his eyes are kind. “Go to him, of course.”
Rationally, I know this is the answer. But I’ve made such a mess of things. I ran away and hid like a coward, ignored his calls, and didn’t tell him where I was. I basically forced him to go on TV to plead his case. I can’t even imagine what his family thinks of all of this.
I think about all the voicemails he left. All the texts he sent. I should have at least replied to one, just to let him know that I was okay, but I left him hanging. I wouldn’t blame him for being angry with me. Not one bit. He was frantic, and I’m sure Tori and Emzee were, too.
“God, Mat. I have so much apologizing to do,” I moan.
My best friend laughs softly. “Yeah, you do. But first, let’s do something about…all of this.” He gestures at my yoga pants, my oversized sleep shirt, the messy bun on top of my head.
I hurry to the bathroom and jump in for a quick shower, and afterward Mateo wastes no time whipping out his makeup kit and working some subtle magic on my face with the neutral palette. I slip into jeans and a white tee and towel dry my hair so it’ll fall in loose waves. It’s a simple look, but it’s the best I can manage—and it’s the first time in days that I don’t look like death warmed over. It has to be good enough.
“He’s going to think you’re beautiful no matter what you look like,” Mateo says, trying to calm my nerves. “Besides, you won’t be wearing this for long anyway.”
I can’t help laughing at the insinuation, and hoping it’s true. I can barely recall my husband’s touch thanks to all the stress lately, and I’m more than eager for a refresher. Once Mateo declares that I look perfect, he ushers me to his car and drives me home. Home. The place I’ve longed to be for the past week. As we pull up to the building, my heart feels like it’s going to explode.
“Oh my God, what if I can’t do this?” I fret.
“Brooklyn, you’ve got this,” Mateo insists. “He loves you. You love him. It really is that simple. As for the details, you two will figure it out. Have faith.”
He pulls into the parking garage and hustles me out of the car, then walks me over to the private elevator and gives me a big squeeze.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “I feel like you’re my fairy godmother.”
“Oh, I definitely am. I’m always here for you, darling. And you know what? So is Luka. You’re so lucky to have a man who loves you the way you deserve. Enjoy it, Brooklyn.”
He punches the elevator button and the doors ding open immediately, kicking my adrenaline into high gear. I take a deep breath, step inside, and flash Mat a little wave goodbye.
As I ride up to the penthouse, every possible scenario that could go horribly wrong plays through my mind. My worst fear? That Luka will simply slam the door in my face. Then again, I suppose it’s possible the crew from Celebrity Chat is still inside, breaking down their gear and wrapping things up after Luka’s interview. Shit. I hadn’t even thought of that.
But when I caut
iously push the door open, I’m met with silence—and Mr. Kibbles waiting for me, as if he somehow knew I was heading up. He sits like a good boy, wagging his tail so hard that it thumps against the floor. I drop to one knee and give him a good scratch.
“Who’s my good boy, huh? Oh, I missed you. Yes, I did.” He jumps up to turn in a circle and lick my face, then sits back down for another ear scratch. “What a good boy he is.”
“Did you miss me, too?”
Shivers race over my skin at the smooth, sexy voice I’ve been dreaming about for days. I don’t look up, worried I might start crying the moment I see him. The subtle scent of Luka’s cologne washes over me, reminding me of hot, sexy nights, and riding to dinner in the car with his hand sliding up my thigh. Talking over a beer while we watch TV. Standing close during his father’s trial.
We’ve been through so much. We’ve grown so much. As individuals and as a couple. Now that I’m here, I can’t believe I stayed away. A sob wells in my chest, so I focus on scratching the dog to keep the tears at bay.
“Yes, I did,” I say, my voice wobbling a little.
Suddenly, Luka’s crouched in front of me, his hands coming up to gently cup my face. Mr. Kibbles wiggles between us, so happy to have us both at his level. I can’t not look at my husband now, and the shock of seeing him so close makes my heart jump.
“I missed you more.” His low, rich voice is the most perfect sound I’ve ever heard.
His gaze is soft, with hope twinkling in his eyes—and no sign of the anger I worried would be there. The dam inside me starts to crack.
“Why did you do it, Luka? I took the fall for you, got you completely off the hook. You could have just walked away and saved face.”
“That’s not who we are,” he says simply. “We’re a team, and that means we work through things together.”
“But people think I’m—”
He pulls me to my feet. “I don’t care how anyone sees you but me. And I know what kind of person you are. I know why you took the blame, and I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me like that ever again.”
My eyes start to blur. “But I heard you on the phone. You told Guy that—”
“I know,” he interrupts. “I said those things to save the company, and maybe it was the best thing for DRM at the time, but I shouldn’t have done or said anything without talking to you first. We should have figured it out together, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I fall into his arms, blinking back tears.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come home. After the Monica story hit, I went to your office right away but you were talking to Guy and after I heard what you said, I just…ran. Spilling the story to TMZ seemed like the only way out for me. I thought we’d both be better off if I just…I don’t know, removed myself from the equation. So you all could move on from the scandal as a family. I’m sorry I couldn’t face you.”
Luka squeezes me. “You are my family, Brooklyn. And look, I know I haven’t made you enough of a priority. But the truth is, you’ve been the most important thing in my life for a long time now, and I’ve done a terrible job at showing you that. It’ll never happen again. And I’ll prove it, if you’ll just give me another chance.”
My lower lips quivers at the sincerity in his voice. “Of course I will.”
He pulls back to look me in the eye again. “I love you, Brooklyn. My family loves you. We’re all behind you, no matter what. We’ve got each other and that’s what matters.”
“I love you, too,” I say.
Luka leans down to kiss me. Then he scoops me up in his arms and carries me to the bedroom, setting me gently on top of his bed. Our bed.
“I want to be with you. Always,” he says, dropping kisses down my neck. “I want to build a life with you, and Mr. Kibbles, and I want us to be happy together.”
I run my fingers through his hair. “I want to be with you, too. I couldn’t stand being away all this time. I’m sorry for making you leave all those voicemails.”
“So many,” he murmurs in between kisses. “I made myself hoarse. But I meant them, every single one.”
I wince a little. “I…actually, I couldn’t bring myself to listen to them.”
He draws back in mock horror. “None of them? I poured my heart and soul out to you!”
I kiss him, slow and soft, and then I kiss him again harder. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”
Luka settles himself between my legs and tugs my shirt up, cruising his lips along my ribcage and making me laugh. “Hell yes, you will.”
I pull his face back up to mine and catch his eyes. “I promise not to hide from you ever again.”
“Unless we’re playing a sexy game of hide-and-seek, you mean.”
“Yes.”
He traces my jaw with a finger. “I promise to always put you first. Always.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Luka sits up to whip his shirt off, and then takes my hand and places it on his bare chest, right over his heart. “This is yours, okay? It’s gonna be me and you, together. Always.”
I loop my arms around his neck and tug him back down on top of me. “I really like the sound of that. And I think we should start now.”
Epilogue
Luka
Two months later
There’s a knock on the door.
Brooklyn rushes to answer. So does Mr. Kibbles, who is determined not to let us out of his sight now that Mommy and Daddy are happy again and giving him all the scritches and walks he could possibly dream of. The funny part is that both of us have to walk him now, together, like a little family, or else he refuses to do his business.
I’d say Mr. Kibbles is thrilled that Brooklyn is home to stay, and he’s determined to do whatever it takes to keep us all together. I’m with Kibs on that.
The florist delivery people come in with two huge urns of pale pink, periwinkle blue, and soft yellow flowers, and other assorted greenery. Brooklyn directs them to place the urns near the sofa. My chest swells as I watch her putter around. It’s a big day for us. We’ve had several of those recently, and honestly, I’ve never been happier.
We sidestepped most of the fallout and increased drama caused by Monica’s exposé, though it seems like her story has gotten buried in the wake of the Brooklyn & Luka Saga. Which is funny, since we’ve been so focused on our marriage and growing our business together that we’ve barely kept up with the gossip anyway.
Paradoxically, celebrity media has gone even more mad for our relationship. We’ve become front and center of a hundred tabloids, but for the most part we’ve been able to set the narratives we choose—which is great, since we’re getting more interview requests and having more articles written about us than I can count. All focusing on how we’ve overcome tough challenges and come out stronger. We’re happy to let the media speculate on exactly what our special sauce is, and though we have clear boundaries set with the media now, we do try to accommodate them within reason. With Brooklyn and me acting as a unified force, I’m finding all the attention to be less of a pain in the ass than it once was.
This is the real us. The imperfect us. The messy, and yet totally in love, us.
Meanwhile, Monica continues to make money for Danica Rose Management, since Elite Image quietly stepped away from her after she spilled her story to the press. I made the decision to resign as her manager and let my former assistant Damien take over. He’s been promoted to junior agent, and even though he’s a rookie, he’s been killing it signing new talent. Monica seems to like him. I’d say it all worked out for the best.
“How does this look, Luca?” Brooklyn tilts her head and assesses the flowers. “I think I want this one over here more.” She grabs the heavy urn and moves to lift it. I rush to her side and shake my head.
“Brooklyn. Let me.”
She stands back with a little smile and directs me. “Much better. Thank you, love.”
“You’re welcome.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my f
inger. “I love you, too.”
My wife grins up at me, and I drop a quick kiss on her lips before rushing off to the kitchen to handle the food placement.
I don’t know how we got this lucky. I never imagined I could feel this way before. It’s like once I committed fully to my marriage and my future, the last bit of weight I’d been carrying around from all the past traumas and fuck-ups of my life just…floated off my shoulders. Now when I look at Brooklyn, I’m filled with contentment. And happiness. And hope.
We have so much ahead of us to look forward to.
“Oh, by the way,” I shout across the apartment. “A courier dropped this off last night.”
I grab a manila envelope off the kitchen counter and walk back over to hand it to her. I’ve already looked, but I can’t wait to see her expression. Her eyebrows go up as she opens the envelope and pulls out a copy of US Times.
Her photo graces the front of the magazine, along with a sidebar about Emzee’s mentoring program. During an interview on how we made our marriage stronger, Brooklyn seamlessly inserted a plug for Em’s work helping some of the models our father forced into prostitution, mentoring them into new careers if they don’t want to return to modeling.
Brooklyn is so passionate about it that she introduced Emzee to her friends at Heart and Home Chicago, who helped Em with all the legal steps necessary to create an official nonprofit. They’ve already raised tens of thousands of dollars to assist these young women with college tuition and career training, and Emzee hopes to branch out some day and extend services to other victims of trafficking, not just former KZ models.
My wife’s eyes go wide as she eagerly flips to the page with her interview. Mr. Kibbles starts to wiggle at her excitement, clearly thinking she’s up to something fun.