King of Envy: Chapter 2

That Friday, I showed up as promised at the bistro Jordan booked. The food was delicious, but sadly, it was hard to enjoy even a Michelin-starred meal when the person sitting across from you hated you.

He didn’t say it, of course, but I could feel the animosity rolling off him in waves, and it took all my willpower not to flinch beneath his glare.

I took a sip of water and tried to avoid eye contact while Jordan rambled on about our wedding beside me.

“We secured the castle in Ireland, courtesy of Katrakis,” he said, oblivious to the tension suffocating the table. “Seven hundred guests. Five days in the countryside. Then the Ethiopian ceremony afterward in the States. It’s going to be the wedding of the year, and we’re thrilled. Aren’t we, sweetie?”

“Absolutely.” I smiled.

The idea of spending a week with seven hundred people I barely knew made me want to crawl into a hole and die. That wasn’t even counting the hundreds of guests my parents were inviting to the reception they were throwing for me in D.C.

Nevertheless, I had to play the role of excited fiancée. That was part of our deal. Jordan needed a wife to secure his inheritance; I needed money to get out of the soul-sucking contract my younger self had unwittingly signed in order to help my family.

Five million dollars upfront for five years of my life, plus an extra five mil once Jordan came into his inheritance. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

So why did I feel uneasy every time I thought about the ceremony?

“We’ve gotten RSVPs from almost everyone on the guest list.” Jordan’s voice carried over the din in the restaurant. “Speaking of which, thank you for taking charge of the bachelor party. I know parties are…not your favorite.”

Silence.

It was always silence.

I finally braved a glance across the table, where his best man loomed like an immovable mountain of muscle and scars.

Vuk Markovic.

CEO of Markovic Holdings, chairman of the Valhalla Club’s management committee, and quite possibly the most intimidating person I’d ever met.

At six foot five, he towered over me even while sitting. His stern mouth and the vicious scar bisecting his otherwise devastating face lent him an air of quiet danger, but it was his eyes that sent goosebumps rippling over my skin.

Cold. Impassive. So pale a blue they were nearly white.

They met mine for a brief moment before Vuk flicked his gaze back to Jordan and responded with a few curt hand movements.

I’d learned American Sign Language in high school after my aunt lost her hearing, so I understood Vuk perfectly.

I’m your best man. That’s my job.

Not the most enthusiastic reply, but I couldn’t imagine Vuk expressing enthusiasm over anything. The man was made of ice.

“I know, but still,” Jordan said. “I appreciate it. We appreciate it.”

He squeezed my hand on the table; I faked another smile.

Nothing to see here. We were just another soon-to-be-married couple who were deeply in love with each other. Obviously.

A muscle ticked in Vuk’s jaw.

His eyes touched mine again, and I fought another wave of chills.

Neither Jordan nor I had told anyone else about our arrangement. It was too risky. There were literally millions of dollars riding on our ability to sell our relationship, and as much as I hated keeping secrets from my family, I needed the money.

But sometimes, Vuk looked at us, at me, like he⁠—

The blare of a ringtone derailed my train of thought.

Jordan grimaced. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He removed his hand from mine and stood. “I’ll be right back. No dessert for me if the server asks, okay, babe?”

“Yep. Got it.” I hoped my reply sounded natural and not forced. Although we conversed easily one-on-one, our need to convince the world we were a happy couple put a strain on our interactions around other people.

Once Jordan was gone, Vuk and I lapsed into silence again.

“So,” I said brightly, wishing not for the first time that Jordan had chosen someone less terrifying to be his best man. “What do you have planned for the bachelor party? Poker? Lap dances? Be honest. I won’t get offended.”

I didn’t want to talk about the wedding, but I couldn’t think of anything else we might have in common.

Vuk regarded me coolly. One hand wrapped around his glass, the other remained on the table, and God knew he hadn’t engaged in a single conversation with me since we met over a year ago. I doubted he’d start tonight.

Okay then. I guess he didn’t want to talk about the wedding either.

I held back a sigh and took an unenthusiastic bite of salad.

I’d just forced the greens down when a family of three passed by our table. The daughter, who looked like she was around seven or eight years old, stopped to gawk at Vuk.

“Mom, Dad, look at his face.” Her stage whisper was hardly a whisper when she was standing less than a foot away. “Why does it look like that?”

“Don’t stare,” her father admonished. “It’s rude.”

“But those scars! They’re gross.”

“Emily!” The mother glared at her daughter before casting an embarrassed glance in our direction. “I’m so sorry. She’s…” Boisterous laughter from another table drowned out the rest of her apology.

She placed a hand on the little girl’s shoulder and quickly ushered her out of the restaurant. The father trailed after them, taking great care not to look at Vuk.

Cold metal bit into my palm. I hadn’t realized how hard I’d been gripping my fork, and I had to physically force my hand to uncurl.

Vuk, on the other hand, hadn’t moved an inch. If it weren’t for the near-imperceptible tightening of his lips, I would’ve thought he hadn’t heard the girl at all.

How often did people openly stare and whisper for him to act so unfazed?

My earlier annoyance softened with sympathy. I wasn’t sure whether I should address what happened, so I let the silence stretch on while I debated what to say next.

Besides the scar on his face, Vuk had additional burn scars wrapped around his throat. They peeked out from the neck of his shirt, and though they weren’t as visible, they were enough to make the average person do a double take.

But the little girl was wrong. They weren’t gross; they were simply a part of him. Some people had freckles and moles; he had scars.

Vuk’s lips tightened further. If my appearance disturbs you so much, we can end dinner early. His movements were sharp enough to cut glass. I wouldn’t want you to lose your appetite.

Blood rushed to my face. I was mortified that I’d been caught staring—the very thing the little girl had done—but his assumptions regarding my character made me bristle.

Did he think me so rude and shallow that I would blatantly judge the way he looked over dinner?

“I wasn’t staring at you because of your appearance,” I said. “You’re sitting across from me. It’s natural that I look at you. I wasn’t even thinking about you.”

It was a bald-faced lie, but I certainly wasn’t going to share my real thoughts with him. I had a feeling he’d hate sympathy more than he would rudeness.

Vuk arched his brow a fraction of an inch.

“I wasn’t.” I lifted my chin. “I was thinking about…Ireland. And how excited I am to visit.”

He looked unimpressed. You’ve been to Ireland before.

This time, I was the one whose eyebrows flew up. “How do you know that?”

I’d studied abroad in Dublin for a summer, before I was scouted and dropped out of Howard to pursue modeling full-time. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t common knowledge either.

There was a short pause before Vuk answered. .Jordan told me

I frowned. I didn’t remember telling Jordan about Dublin, but I could be wrong. The past year and a half had been such a blur that I barely remembered what life was like before I agreed to Jordan’s marriage of convenience.

It was a long engagement, but I was marrying the heir to Jacob Ford. People expected us to have a lavish wedding, and those took time to plan.

Our ceremony was set for February, six months from now. After that, I’d receive my first five-million-dollar payment, and I could finally leave my agency.

They’d already taken too much of my money and soul; if I lost any more pieces of myself, I’d have nothing left.

“Are you bringing anyone to the wedding?” I asked Vuk.

Despite his public profile as a major CEO, he was notoriously private.

I knew he’d been born in Serbia and that his family moved to the U.S. when he was ten. He’d studied chemical engineering in college, where he met Jordan, and the pair had been roommates for their last two years at Thayer.

Some people called him the Serb because they said he hated being called by his real name, but I suspected that was just a rumor. Jordan always called him Vuk, and he never said a thing about it.

That was all I knew about him.

There was zero information about Vuk’s personal life online, and I was oddly curious about his dating habits.

I’d never seen him out with a date, but he was rich, single, and powerful—the holy trinity, as far as half the women in Manhattan were concerned. He had to be dating someone, if only casually.

An indiscernible emotion flickered across his face. Perhaps.

“That’s not really an answer.”

If I had another answer, I would’ve given it.

I glared at him. “Do you get off on being difficult, or does it just come naturally to you?”

Both.

A small growl of frustration slipped out.

Vuk’s mouth twitched. On anyone else, it might’ve passed for a hint of a smile, but the mere idea of Vuk Markovic smiling was so far-fetched, I was certain I was imagining things.

“I—”

A whoosh of air interrupted what I was sure would’ve been a thoroughly witty reply on my part.

“Sorry about that.” Jordan sounded breathless as he settled back into his seat. I’d been so fixated on my conversation with Vuk, I hadn’t even noticed his approach. “The call took longer than expected.”

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

A furrow dug between his brows, and his previously neat hair stuck up like he’d been running his fingers through it.

“Not really.” Jordan’s voice was tight. “It’s my grandmother. You were right. She’s…not doing so well. I have to go to Rhode Island tomorrow to see her.”

Orla had returned to her Newport estate after the party on Tuesday.

“What do you mean by not doing well?” I asked, concerned.

“I’m not sure. Her assistant just said I should go up and see her ASAP.”

That couldn’t be good.

My teeth dug into my lip. I wasn’t close with Jordan’s family, but I didn’t want anything to happen to his grandmother either.

She was the reason for our arrangement. Orla had tired of waiting for her only grandchild to settle down, and she gave Jordan an ultimatum last year: marry within the next twenty-four months and stay married for at least five years, or she’d donate the entire family fortune to charity.

All one hundred and twenty million dollars of it.

Needless to say, Jordan had approached me days later with his proposition. I’d accepted, and here we were.

I have to go to Rhode Island tomorrow to see her.

The rest of his words suddenly clicked. “If you have to leave tomorrow, does that mean…”

“I can’t make it to the cake tasting,” he said apologetically. “I’m so sorry. I know how hard it was to get that appointment.”

We were scheduled to fly to California tomorrow to meet with Sammy Yu, whose wedding cakes had become a status symbol for those in the know. Brides across the country waited months to get a tasting appointment. Couples literally booked a whole trip to San Francisco just to see him.

“No. It’s okay.” I shook my head. “We’ll reschedule. Your family is more important.”

“I doubt we’ll be able to reschedule before the wedding. We’re cutting it close as it is, and my mother will pitch a fit if we don’t have a Sammy Yu cake at the reception.” Jordan rubbed a hand over his face. “The shitty part is, she wants to take the jet to Rhode Island, so you can’t use it for Cali. And I don’t want you to do the tasting alone. If only…” His gaze slid across the table.

Dread suddenly coalesced in my stomach. No.

“Vuk, I know this is a lot to ask, but would you mind taking Ayana to San Francisco tomorrow?” A pleading note entered Jordan’s voice. “You have your jet in New York, right? It’ll only be for the weekend, and I’ll owe you one.”

I braved another glance at Vuk.

Any hint of warmth he might’ve shown earlier had disappeared. He resembled a stone statue, his mouth a grim slash as he stared at Jordan like the other man had asked him to peel off his flesh and fashion it into a carpet for me to walk on.

Okay, ouch. I knew he didn’t like me, but he didn’t have to look that horrified at the prospect of traveling with me.

“Please. I don’t trust anyone else to go with Ayana, and you know how my mother is,” Jordan said. “I’ll never hear the end of it if we don’t get this damn cake.”

She can take the jet. Vuk didn’t look at me. I don’t need to go with her.

I bristled. While I appreciated his jet offer (sort of), I did not appreciate them talking about me as if I weren’t here.

“I don’t need a jet,” I said. “I’ll book a commercial flight like a normal person.”

“That’s too much hassle,” Jordan argued. “You need to be back by Monday morning, and there’ve been so many cancelled flights lately because of that big IT outage.” He turned to Vuk again. “Two days. That’s it. You know my food preferences, so you can sub in for me at the tasting, and Ayana doesn’t like flying alone.”

I winced. My anxiety over flying wasn’t a secret, per se, but it seemed too intimate a detail to share with Vuk.

Everything seemed too intimate to share with him.

His features twisted into a scowl. If he was annoyed before, he was downright irritated now.

Part of me hoped he’d say no. Yes, flying private was much more appealing than popping a Valium before a crowded flight, but Vuk and I had never been alone together before.

Even now, surrounded by dozens of diners in one of the city’s hottest restaurants, he managed to suck all the oxygen out of the room. His presence was like a black hole—powerful, inescapable, and so all-consuming everything else paled in comparison.

Fine. His expression was pure ice. . I’ll goThis weekend only.

“Great.” Jordan’s relief was palpable. “I appreciate it, man.” He squeezed my hand again. “Isn’t that great, sweetie?”

“So great.” I beamed so hard my cheeks hurt.

If I were an actress instead of a model, I’d get fired on the spot. Luckily, Vuk didn’t notice my pitiful attempt at feigning enthusiasm because he still hadn’t acknowledged my presence.

It was like Jordan’s return had flipped a switch. He’d gone from sort of carrying on a conversation to straight up ignoring me.

Okay. I could deal with that. I’d rather have a silent companion than one who didn’t understand boundaries.

Besides, it was a cake tasting. It wasn’t like Vuk was accompanying me to buy bridal lingerie.

One round-trip flight and one weekend in California. It’d be easy.

I reached for my water again, my ridiculously opulent engagement ring flashing beneath the lights. It wasn’t my style at all, but Jordan had insisted on something showy “for appearance’s sake.”

Vuk’s eyes narrowed. They bore a hole in the diamond before they slid up to meet mine.

A fresh wave of goosebumps scattered over my arms.

Easy. I swallowed. The water tasted like metal. Right.