The Secret Page 2

  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

  Chapter 1

  Tearing my eyes away from Stefan’s cold glare, my hand scrabbled for the door knob 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 sl
ammed 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.

  Tori

  Chapter 2

  People love saying that the secret to lasting relationships is compromise. But what the hell did they really know about it? By keeping KZ Modeling’s secret, I’d be compromising more than just my wants or needs; this was about human rights, moral standards, basic decency.

  As we sat in traffic just a few blocks away from our condo—Stefan’s condo, I corrected myself—I thought hard about the word compromise. It had originated in the early fifteenth century, and its Latin roots could be traced back to the combination of the words promittere, “to promise,” and com, meaning “together.” My relationship with Stefan, in this respect, had always been a compromise—since the very first time we’d met, at my eighteenth birthday party—a promise we’d made together.

  I hadn’t gone into my marriage impetuously, despite the fact that we’d gotten engaged within minutes of being formally introduced. We’d talked it over first, weighed the implications of the union that our fathers were trying to force us into. Stefan swore that if we got married, we’d make our own lives and our own choices, independent of our controlling fathers’ wishes. We’d forge our own paths. We’d live for ourselves. We’d both get what we wanted. But now here we were, completely at the mercy of the decisions and actions—or inactions—of our fathers. And Stefan had known all along. From day one, my husband had lied to me. Played me.

  Not only that, but now that I knew he’d purposely omitted the truth about the back-room dealings that his family’s agency engaged in, it had completely shattered my trust in him.

  I wasn’t going to let this stand.

  As we stepped into the foyer of the condo, I cleared my throat and leaned against the doorway, blocking Stefan’s route into the living room.

  “I’ve made some decisions,” I told him.

  He nodded, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s hear them, then.”

  “There are things I can’t control or change about my situation, and I recognize that,” I began. “We’re married, at least for the next few years, as we discussed, and I’m dependent on you financially, in many ways. My tuition at UChicago, this condo, transportation, Gretna—”

  My reference to our personal chef got a smile out of him, and I was glad. Let him think he was winning. Let him think I liked having my meals prepared for me more than I liked protecting women from human trafficking. Let him believe I was just a spoiled, selfish princess with no cares beyond my own comfort and well-being.

  “—but while it’s one thing to accept my role, you can’t force me to embrace it,” I finished.

  Stefan’s expression reverted to its scowl. “I don’t expect you to. Just play the part.”

  “Oh, I fully intend to,” I said, my voice low and as cold as I could make it. With that, I twisted off the huge diamond ring on my finger, and the pavé gold band that matched, and placed them both on the entryway table. “When I leave this house, I’ll put them on,” I said, gesturing to my wedding rings. “But wh
en I’m here, at home, I’m not your slave.”

  “Is that what you think?” he growled, reaching to pull my body hard against him.

  Our eyes locked, and I desperately fought against the desire spiking through my veins.

  “It is,” I said, twisting out of his grasp and storming down the hallway.

  Just because we were married, and would remain so, it didn’t mean I had to sleep in the same room as a monster. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I didn’t answer as I marched into the master bedroom. Stefan’s bedroom. Because from now on it would be his, and his alone.

  He stood silently in the doorway, watching me as I started angrily pulling clothes out of the closet and piling them in my arms. When I turned toward him, he didn’t move.

  “Why don’t you put those down,” he said, his voice deceptively reasonable.

  “No,” I said, shocked to hear the word fly out of my mouth so fast. I was defying him.

  “No?” he repeated, and all the gentleness was gone.

  I clutched the clothes I was holding more tightly, not sure what he would do. Would he pull the pile out of my hands, force me to hang everything back up? Would he tell me I had to stay in his room, continue sleeping beside him?

  Even though I felt a tremor of fear, I held my ground. I wasn’t going to back down. After everything that had happened, I needed a victory—I needed to feel like I had some control, no matter how small.

  I braced myself for him to start yelling, or for him to grab my arm and try to force me and my clothes back into the master closet. But instead of just standing there waiting, I set my jaw, lifted my chin, and walked past him into the hallway.

  He said nothing, following me as I went down the hall and deposited the clothes in the guest room. It was half the size of the master, with a tiny closet, but I didn’t care. I was going to have my own space, whether he liked it or not.