Page 39 of The Contract
“Cheers.” I keep my gaze steadily on hers.
She takes a sip. “Well, what do you think? Does your agency’s offer still stand?”
“I think it would be mutually beneficial for you to sign with us, of course. But you have to really want it—and I’m not sure you do.”
She laughs as if she can’t believe it. “What makes you say that?”
“Because instead of calling DRM and asking us for an electronic contract, which we could have easily sent to you within forty-eight hours, you flew all the way from LA to Chicago and then reached out to ask if I’d meet up with you.”
She laughs again and swats at my hand playfully. “Oh, Luka. Can’t I check up on an old friend when I’m in town? Besides, I wanted to make sure we still click.”
“Sure,” I say, nodding.
When our food arrives, I waste no time digging in. Monica takes a bite of her salad. She’s slow to pull the fork from between her lips and bats her eyes as she makes a show of sliding it from her mouth. An appreciative little sound rumbles from her throat.
At one time, I would have found this irresistible. Monica is beautiful in the classic Scandinavian way. She has wide blue eyes, high cheekbones, and these full, pouty lips. Her fork is a lucky bastard for the pleasure of slipping between them again and again.
Yet all the things I appreciated about her before are escaping me now. I can appreciate her beauty. Objectively, I know she’s flawless. But…she just doesn’t do it for me anymore.
“So, howismarried life, Luka?” she purrs. “You never seemed like the type to settle. Down, I mean.”
I take a couple more bites of my chilled salmon salad before I answer.
“What exactly would you like to know?” It’s obvious what she’s after. She wants the details on how things went after she exposed my wife’s betrayal to me while we were in Paris.
“I just worry about you, that’s all. You seem very happy, if the media is to be believed.”
“We do get a ton of press. Brooklyn draws a lot of attention. She’s got a good heart.”
Monica eyes me over her wine glass. Her expression flickers with venom and it solidifies for me that she isn’t just after a new contract—she’s after my wife. Maybe more.
Finally she sighs, trailing two fingers over my wrist. “All right, enough dancing around it. I’d like to officially sign with you. I already gave my notice with Elite, so I’d like to contract with a new agency as soon as possible. How should we nail this down?”
Gently, I pull away from her touch. If she’s going to be an employee, it’d be best to stay on her good side. I don’t need her creating any more waves for me. Or for Brooklyn.
The waiter comes to clear our plates, and I hand over my credit card to settle the bill. The sooner I can end this, the better.
“Come into the office later this week. I’ll let contracts know to expect you. Welcome aboard.” I don’t know if I really believe that she’s going to sign with us, but I’m game to go along with it until I know for sure.
She pouts. “So…you don’t want to seal the deal today?”
Something touches my ankle. I almost jerk back before I realize it’s her foot.
“I’m afraid I have other commitments.” I smile apologetically.
The waiter returns with the receipt and I sign. Monica drinks her second glass of wine, savoring it in small sips, making it clear that she’s in no rush.
I make a big deal of checking my watch. “I should get going. Can I walk you out?”
“Let me dial an Uber real quick.”
She takes out her phone and taps at the screen, then holds out a hand for me to take. I help her to feet, and maybe it’s the wine, but her cheeks flush as she steps close to me, leaning into me as we head back outside into the sunshine.
I don’t like her closeness, but I’m not going to make a scene or give her the impression I’m rejecting her outright. As my father always said, keep your enemies closer.
We stand at the curb to wait for her ride. Her fingers stroke my lower back and it takes all my will not to pull away.
“You’re the best. It’s going to be so exciting working with you! Oh, there’s my Uber.”
