The Secret

Stefan:

I awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of Anja’s heavy breathing, the now-familiar distressed moans escaping from her lips. Another nightmare.

“Anja,” I whispered, reaching for her shoulder. I tucked her lithe, naked body into mine, curling around her protectively from behind.

She gasped for air and turned to face me in the bed. I could see her fearful expression in the glow of the streetlight coming from outside, her eyelids fluttering rapidly as she glanced around my room and struggled to get her bearings.

“Shh. It’s me,” I said.

Her hands reached up to frame the strong lines of my jaw. “Stefan.” Her exotic Romanian accent never failed to send a shock of lust through me, even at times like this.

“You’re safe,” I soothed her, kissing each palm. “You’re with me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, but I could still feel her heart pounding as her chest pressed against mine.

I had no idea what the nightmares were about; Anja refused to give me any details. She said there were certain things about her history that I was better off not knowing. I respected this need for privacy, but I also fucking hated it. Whoever had hurt her, I’d give anything to hunt them down. To make sure nobody else ever touched my girl again.

But now she was climbing on top of me, her lips hungrily seeking mine. That long black hair falling like a sheet of silk against my chest, my fingers instinctively reaching for the soft curves of her breasts. We’d fucked for hours earlier, before falling exhausted into bed, but our bodies were like magnets and I was hard and ready for another round as she straddled me.

“You sure you want to go again?” I teased, nudging my cock against her. “Pretty sure if I make you scream as loud as you did earlier, you’re not gonna have a voice tomorrow.”

“Who needs one?” She leaned back, spreading her thighs, and looked down at me with a smirk. “I don’t have the kind of job where it pays to have a voice.”

Despite her smile, the words had an edge that sent a chill through me. I pulled her mouth down onto mine, wishing my lips could make her pain go away. As we kissed I rolled us over, pinning her to the bed. She reached for my cock.

“Wait. We need to talk first,” I said. My adrenaline was pumping at the thought of telling her my plan, but it was now or never.

She pouted. “Talk is boring.”

I laughed. “I hope what I have to say won’t bore you.”

I’d met Anja Borjan in the fall, at a fashion show in Paris where the models had been painted in gold leaf. Even still, Anja had glowed like no one else on that runway. Her eyes, the bluish-green color of an ocean during a storm, had locked onto mine as she’d pouted her sultry way down the catwalk. I knew in that moment: I had to have her. I soon found out she was one of the up-and-coming new talents recruited by my father for his agency, KZ Modeling, and had quickly become a favorite among his clients. All of his clients.

But as the son of KZM’s owner, I was used to getting what I wanted.

Within a week she had been in my bed, and in the months since, she’d barely gone more than a few nights at a time without returning—even if she sometimes texted me after 2 am so I could sneak down to the lobby of our luxury apartment building and let her in. And to my surprise, I’d become addicted to her. I hadn’t grown tired of Anja as I had with other women.

And I didn’t think I ever would. Something about her anchored me, made me see a future where we were happy together. It didn’t matter that I was seventeen and she was in her twenties, or that her career was on fire and mine hadn’t even begun yet, or that she was so much more worldly than I was (despite my money and my travels and my experiences with women). We just…fit.

My mother had died when I was six, and my father was a lifelong workaholic. Anja had immediately nodded with understanding when I told her how I’d had to grow up fast. My younger siblings and I had been brought up by a series of nannies but they’d always seemed to take little interest in me, probably because I was such a strong-willed, independent child. In many ways, I’d raised myself.

I’d been sleeping with the models from KZM since I was thirteen. As far as I was concerned, it was the best way to gain maturity and life experience, to learn about pleasure and beauty. The talent my father employed were experts in both, and I made it a point to seek out their expertise. Especially in the bedroom. Anyone who didn’t return my interest, though few and far between, was politely passed over in favor of someone who was more attracted to what I had to offer. With my father so focused on running the business, there was no one around to dissuade my particular form of sexual education. It had always been fun. And easy.

But everything had changed with Anja. I’d found myself opening up to her. I trusted her.

What we had going on, though—it wasn’t enough for me anymore. The sneaking around, the incognito coffee dates on the other side of town, these little sexual interludes in between the various jobs she was sent on. I wanted more of her. I wanted all of her.

I was in love and I was going to marry her.

I’d even picked out a ring and everything. Right now it was burning a hole in my bedside table—it was set with a huge, heart-shaped diamond that would sparkle on her finger. I was ready to make her mine, to take our relationship out of the shadows and into the light. I wanted to stop hiding and make things official. She loved me too. I was certain.

She’d said the words, yes, but it was more than that. I could tell how she felt by the way she looked at me, the way she melted into my arms, the way she kissed me…the way she relaxed at the sound of my voice whenever she woke from her nightmares. She wanted this, too. Something permanent. Something safe. Something…real.

I cleared my throat, checked my nerves, and looked down into those stormy eyes.

“I’ll be graduating from high school soon,” I began, my tone serious.

Anja’s hand froze mid-grope. “I know this…”

I nodded, unable to read her neutral expression. “So. So I’ve been thinking that…that the timing is right, now, for us to start thinking about the future. What’s ahead of us—”

“You are saying you are ready to move on from this?” She was frowning now.

I couldn’t help myself; I laughed. “No! God, no. Anja, I—I love you.” I stroked her cheek, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“And I love you,” she said. She wrapped her legs around me and propped herself up on her elbows to drop kisses down my throat, along my collarbone, moving toward my chest. My cock jumped against her thigh eagerly, but I gently pushed her away. I needed to focus.

“Anja,” I said.

She looked up at me, her angelic face wearing a frown of confusion.

“You don’t want to—?” she gestured to my cock.

I did. I really did, but I took her hand in mine instead.

“I love you,” I said again, slowly, “and I want to marry you.”

Her eyes widened in shock. We’d spoken about it before, in passing—I had made my intentions clear—but for some reason this was still a surprise to her.

“But—what is wrong with what we have?” she asked. “Are you not happy?”

“I am happy,” I said. “What we have is amazing. But…I want more. Don’t you?”

“Stefan.” She laughed softly. “You can’t be serious.”

I looked into her eyes. “I am. I want to be with you. I want to marry you.”

She gently pushed me aside and wriggled out from beneath me. Before I fully realized what was happening, she was getting out of bed, pulling on her clothes.

I leapt to my feet, stopping her with a hand on her shoulder. She stilled but didn’t turn toward me. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked. “I can take care of you. You wouldn’t even have to keep modeling if you didn’t want to, or you could stay focused on your career as long as you want. Either way, we’d get on a good path—together. Build a life of our own.”

Anja finally looked back at me. “You are a wonderful boy. But you know we cannot.”

That word, “boy,” stung. But I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “This can work. My trust fund has enough money to live off of for years, and once I have my MBA I can provide for us even better. If you don’t want to come with me to U Penn, maybe we can—”

“Your father would never allow me to stop working for him,” she cut me off.

I was confused. “You don’t have to stop. You can keep modeling.”

Her shoulders slumped under my touch. “I am not referring to the modeling,” she said.

Of course.

I knew that my father employed his models for more than just print work and runway shows, that some of the clients who came to him expected the women to work in the bedroom as well. I’d always known this. As someone who was naturally curious and expected to take over KZM when I was older, I’d made it my business from a young age to learn everything about how the agency operated. And I did. I knew where to recruit models, how to woo them, what their contracts looked like, how to entice new clients into the fold and keep the established ones. I had no illusions; I knew exactly how our company was run. Including all the things my father kept out of the press. The sex work was just another part of the business. A part that we never discussed, that was kept secret from most of the world, but a part of KZ Modeling nonetheless.

I never judged the models that supplemented their income this way. After all, I had been the grateful recipient of many of the tricks and treats they had doled out while earning additional money. They could live their lives as they saw fit.

And even though I knew it wasn’t entirely legal, I didn’t judge that either. Everyone was making more money, everyone was having a good time, everyone was gaining something. As far as I was concerned, it was a win-win situation. My father made more profits and connections this way, and the models earned more to send home to their families, as most of them were supporting their relatives overseas.

But if Anja and I got married, she wouldn’t need to make that extra income. She would be part of the Zoric family, and all the wealth and perks that that included.

“You don’t need to keep doing that kind of work once we’re married,” I told her. “I meant what I said. I’ll take care of both of us. Of your family, too.”

She pulled away and resumed dressing, zipping her jeans and reaching for her T-shirt.

“That’s not how it works,” she said, her voice quiet.

I didn’t understand her stubbornness, but I wasn’t going to let Anja’s hesitation stand in the way of our happiness. It was a problem I could fix. She just didn’t realize it.

“Don’t you love me?” I asked.

“Just because I love you, it doesn’t mean we can be together. Not like you’re asking. Even though it sounds like a fairytale.” Her voice caught in her throat, and I could see her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

I felt triumphant. She did want to be with me. “If you love me, then trust that I will find a way to make this work,” I said. “Can you do that? Can you just…trust me?”

Finally, her eyes locked on mine. I saw the glimmer of hope there, and felt a surge of emotion go through me, my chest swelling.

“I trust you,” she said. “But…I need some time. Okay?”

I swept her into my arms and kissed her, holding her tightly. I never wanted to let her go.

And if I had my way, I wouldn’t have to.

When she left a few hours later, she had agreed to think about my proposal, just as I had promised to fix whatever problems she was afraid of encountering. I was on top of the world. My whole life was ahead of me, my future bright, and now I’d have Anja at my side.

I still felt that way when I got a text from her a few days later saying we needed to talk. I was certain she was ready to officially say yes, so I rushed over after school, making a stop at home first to grab the engagement ring I was eager to slide onto her finger.

But when I arrived at the apartment KZ Modeling had set her up in, I found it empty. Completely stripped bare. Besides the sparse modern furniture that had been there when she moved in, I found none of her books, no clothes, not even a toothbrush. Even the many vases of fresh flowers that I had delivered to her place each week—which she never threw away—were gone. It was as if she’d never been there at all. None of the other models who lived in the building or on her floor could tell me anything. None of them knew where she had gone.

I texted her and called her, but there was no response.

Unsure of what to do, my adrenaline pumping hard, I got in a cab to go see the one man who had the power to fix anything—and everything. My father.

When I arrived at his office in the KZM building, it was almost as if he’d been waiting for me.

“Anja Borjan is missing,” I said, not caring that I was out of breath. “And everything of hers is gone from her apartment. Something’s not right. I talked to a few of the other girls, but nobody knows where she went.”

“Yes, I know,” my father said disinterestedly.

He had never been a warm man. Never been especially kind or fatherly, but the coldness in his voice at that moment stopped me in my tracks.

“Wait—you knew about this? So where is she?”

He glanced down at the paperwork on his desk, barely paying any attention to me.

“She’s been deported.”

It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me. I sank down in a chair, my knees failing me.

“How? Why? We need to get her back,” I told him.

My father shook his head. “She was here illegally. There’s nothing we can do.”

“But I’m in love with her,” I said, the words coming out of me in a rush. It wasn’t how I had envisioned telling my father about our relationship, but there wasn’t time for that now. “I’m in love with her and I’m going to marry her, so her immigration status won’t be a problem. She’ll be a full citizen.”

My father looked up at me, his gaze hard as diamonds. “You think I didn’t know about your little tryst?” he asked. “You think I haven’t known about every single one of my models you’ve fucked around with?”

I flinched at his words. “This is different,” I said. “Anja is different. I need you to get her back.”

He smiled, and I finally felt myself relax. It was going to be okay.

And then he spoke.

“Why would I get her back?” he asked. “I’m the one who had her deported.”

“What?” I said, my chest caving in. “Why?”

“Because no son of mine is marrying a whore.”

The room seemed to spin as despair turned into fury. I wanted to reach across the desk and grab my father by the lapels of his Armani suit, punch the smug look off his face.

“You hypocrite,” I choked out. “Treating your employees like they’re worthless trash, after all they do for you. For our business. You were an immigrant too, Dad. How could you do this?”

He shrugged, cutting the end off a fresh cigar. “It’s just business. Don’t be naïve, Stefan.”

I shook my head in disgust, disbelieving. “This is how you do business, how you treat our models? Like they’re inferior beings? I can’t believe any of them chose to work for you.”

My father laughed. But when he looked at me, there was no humor in his eyes.

“What makes you think they had a choice?”

It was a punch to the gut. I felt numb in my chair as I watched him light his cigar and take a few languid puffs.

All this time, I had assumed that the women were sleeping with clients of their own free will. That they saw it as an opportunity to help themselves and their families. I never in a million years imagined that they had been coerced into sex work. Never would have imagined that my father had coerced them into it.

I had been a fool. An ignorant, childish fool.

Why hadn’t Anja told me? Why hadn’t she confided in me, as I’d confided in her?

Fury filled me. Not at her, but at my father. The monster in front of me, smoking his cigar and casually flipping through a series of photographs from a recent high fashion shoot.

Fuck him. I was going to find Anja. I would bring her back. I would make things right.

Almost as if he could read my mind, my father set down a photo, the smile slipping.

“Don’t even think of going after her,” he said. “You had your fun. It’s time to grow up.”

I didn’t say anything, just returned his gaze, my jaw tightening in order to keep myself from saying things I couldn’t take back. Because as much as I hated my father in that moment, I was aware that I was still a minor. Still just seventeen and completely dependent on him and his money. Money I would need access to if I was ever going to get Anja back.

“If you want any part of this business, boy, you need to get in line with what’s best for the family. Or I’ll make sure you never get a cent of KZM’s profits. Is that clear?”

I was trapped. Like a caged animal. I only shrugged, not wanting to assent.

He went on, “You want to be a partner? Take charge someday, when I retire?”

I did, but it killed me to admit it. “Yes,” I finally ground out.

“Then you’ll do exactly as I say.” He came around the desk, leaning against it so he could look down at me as he smoked. “Zorics always look out for each other. You understand?”

All I could do was nod. One tight, short nod.

“Good. I’ll hear no more of this,” he said.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed me.

I trudged out of his office defeated and at a loss. And furious.

My father had won this battle, but what he didn’t realize was that the war had just begun. From now on, I would play smart and I would play quietly. Because I had to get Anja back. I had to fix what my father had broken. No matter what. The stakes were too high, the victory too important. There was no other option.

I was going to destroy him.

Tori:

Tearing my eyes away from Stefan’s cold glare, my hand scrabbled for the doorknob behind me. I burned with rage at the sight of my husband standing there beside my father, both of them completely impassive despite my horror over the explosive, dark secret behind KZ Modeling’s business—a secret I’d just revealed that I had figured out on my own.

“Tori,” my father began.

“Just—don’t.” I shook my head, fury making my voice tremble. It was almost like I was watching the scene from outside my body. My logical mind had retreated, gone somewhere else. I had never felt more betrayed in my life.

My gaze shifted between my father and Stefan, the reality of the situation still sinking in. How could they have known about this, been a part of this? And god, all those women. Scores of women. Degraded and discarded by powerful, careless men who used them for their own gain.

I was disgusted with the men standing before me, but I was also disgusted with myself. For trusting them. For trusting Stefan. For falling in love with him. I felt sick.

“You’re not my father anymore,” I choked out.

My father shook his head at me gently, his expression disapproving. As if I was merely a child throwing a temper tantrum, instead of a grown woman whose father had married her off to a family that used its employees as sexual playthings to be bought and sold.

“I’m going to the authorities,” I said, finally regaining some control, my voice like ice.

They exchanged a glance.

“I’m afraid that won’t go well for you,” my father said. “And you have zero evidence.”

That stopped me cold. He was right. It would be my word against his, against Stefan’s, against the entire Zoric empire. I knew what I had seen with my own eyes, what I had heard from Konstantin’s mouth, but would any of the models agree to back up my story and tell the truth? Would they testify if there could be retribution, if they could lose their jobs or be harmed for talking? Could they find strength in their own numbers?

“I have witnesses,” I bluffed. “They’ll stand with me.”

“It won’t work, Tori,” my father said, his voice like steel.

“You’re not outside the law,” I spat. I glared at my husband. “And neither are you, or your father, or the whole fucking KZM agency. I’m going to burn all of you to the ground.”

I took out my phone, my hands still shaking, but neither of them looked concerned.

“I could call 9-1-1 right now,” I said. “Tell them everything.”

“You’re welcome to try,” my husband taunted me. “See how far that gets you.”

“It would be best to avoid any embarrassing scenes,” my father tsked. “I’d hate to see this on the news later…Senator Lindsey’s daughter making a frantic emergency phone call, raving about delusional scandals and international crime rings. Her mental health called into question.”

He was disgusting. They all were. I lifted my phone, but I couldn’t get my fingers to move. What if he was right? What would I say? What would the authorities do? Anything at all?

“Keep her in her place,” he told Stefan, a warning note in his voice.

My “place”? It was the last straw.

I turned around, flung the door open, and slammed the door behind me before storming toward the bank of elevators.

I wasn’t sure if I could stand to see either one of them ever again.

But when it came to my husband, I didn’t have a choice—because before the elevator could close, Stefan thrust his hand between the doors and stepped inside with me.

I didn’t want to look at him, let alone be in a confined space with him. And still, I hated the way my pulse leapt when he looked at me. The way my body responded as he moved closer.

“Don’t touch me,” I warned as his hand came up to reach for me.

Thankfully he listened, his hand hovering between us for a moment before he let it fall at his side. “I can’t let you leave here alone,” he said. “I won’t let you process this by yourself.”

I scoffed. “Really? Pretty sure I just heard Senator Lindsey tell you to keep me in my place. So if that’s what you’re here to do, forget about it. I’m calling the cops. If I were you—”

He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me back against the wall, not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to shock me into shutting my mouth. I couldn’t read the expression on his face as I looked up at him, but what else was new? He was just as inscrutable as ever. But at least he wasn’t wearing the same smug look my father had been.

“The thing is…” he said, his body pressing against mine, “my father and your father both have friends on the force. High up in the force. You understand? Calling the police won’t work.”

“I’ll go to the FBI, then,” I shot back. “You won’t get away with this.”

He sighed. “Tori, listen. KZM is operating under the knowledge—and protection—of people in the highest levels of law enforcement in the country.” He paused a moment, letting his meaning sink in. “No matter where you turn, you won’t find a sympathetic ear. And you won’t be helping any of those girls, either. If anything, they’ll be endangered. I can guarantee you that my father wouldn’t bat an eye at making them disappear. And I’m worried about you, too.”

“Is that a threat?” I asked. I tried to sound tough, even though I was scared.

“It’s a promise—and a warning,” he said. “You know how my father is. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. You’ll do more harm than good trying to blow a whistle. So don’t try to play the vigilante, please. You won’t be safe. I swear to god, I’m telling you the truth.”

And god damn it, but he was. I could tell that much.

The elevator dinged and Stefan stepped back.

“I want to be alone,” I said, walking past him and out into the lobby.

I needed a chance to process this information, to figure out what my next move was. I wasn’t going to just let this stand, but I had to come up with a plan. Flying off the handle in a hot rage like this wouldn’t help anyone. Not those women and definitely not me. My own father was against me, and Stefan was right about Konstantin as well—he was a dangerous man.

I felt helpless and hopeless. I was just one person up against a huge and evil corporation that had a powerful politician—and the law—in its corner. What could I do? Who could I trust?

Back on the street outside, I tried to hail a cab, but Stefan grabbed my hand.

“We’re going back to the apartment,” he told me, punching a text into his phone.

I glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“You need to grow up,” he snapped. “Did you listen to anything I just said? These women’s lives are at stake. And if you threaten KZM’s livelihood, you threaten theirs too. So you’ll keep your mouth shut and accept the reality of the situation.” He looked around and then lowered his voice. “Because if you don’t, we’re all fucked. Their careers, the families they care for, our income and apartment, my job, your education, your father’s Senate seat—”

“I can’t believe you’re on their side,” I said, fighting back tears. “How could you?”

“You have to understand, Tori—everything is on the line. For all of us.”

Stefan’s private car pulled up to the curb, and the driver got out and held the door open for us. With a scowl, I slid into the backseat. Stefan climbed in beside me.

As we pulled into traffic, he leaned close, his voice hot in my ear.

“This is how it has to be,” he told me. “You’ve known from the beginning what your life would be, what this agreement would be—so stay in your box. Your role is to go to college, play nice at social events, and at the end of the day you come home and suck my dick every night. You can’t dwell on the men’s business. This is the only way you’ll be safe. Understand?”

I stared at him, unable to speak. How could this man be two completely conflicting people at the same time? Kind and caring one moment and cruel beyond belief the next?

“Just keep your head down and be the obedient wife you were raised to be,” he went on. “You know your place.”

I didn’t say anything, just stared down at his hand wrapped tightly around my arm.

“Tell me you understand, and that you’re not still thinking about endangering yourself or anyone else,” he demanded, his green eyes blazing.

I managed a nod, even though my heart was breaking into a million pieces. Finally Stefan released me. I turned away to stare out the window at the Chicago streets flashing past us. I could feel my pulse finally start to relax, and I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

As much as I loathed to admit it, he was right. His life, my life, and the livelihoods of these women depended on KZ Modeling and its success. So until I came up with a brilliant plan that would keep us all safe and see justice served without interference, I would have to bite my tongue and play the part they all wanted me to play. I’d be the obedient wife Stefan wanted.

The thought of doing so nearly killed me, but I knew that I had no other choice—not yet, anyway. Not with Konstantin keeping an eye on me, not with the law in his pocket, not with my own father willing to stop at nothing to keep me silent.

But I wouldn’t stay silent forever.