King of Envy: Chapter 44

When I was stressed, I knitted.

Since last Friday, I’d completed a pair of mittens, a hat, and half a blanket, which was an extraordinary number of items considering I was still a novice and it’d only been a week.

The lawsuit had officially dropped on Monday, and the past few days had been a whirlwind of calls, meetings, and brainstorm sessions with Sloane and Vuk’s lawyers (now my lawyers). The industry’s whisper network was ablaze, and while the news wasn’t big enough to hit the mainstream yet, the fashion gossip blogs were salivating for details. At Sloane’s urging, I’d deleted my social media apps off my phone and stayed off the Internet.

Everyone was waiting with bated breath to see what would happen. The lawyers’ consensus was that the charges were bullshit, but we all knew that. Emmanuelle simply wanted to seed doubt in people’s minds and make my name synonymous with scandal and unprofessionalism, even if it wasn’t true. Sloane agreed and was on top of it.

I trusted her. Nevertheless, I needed a distraction, so I knitted and convinced Vuk to give me a second shooting lesson. Apparently, picturing Emmanuelle did wonders for my aim, because I’d pretended the target was her and hit it right in the face. It’d been deeply satisfying.

My most anticipated distraction, however, was tonight. It was the night that was supposed to officially make up for Vuk leaving me in D.C., and I could hardly contain my curiosity.

Do you ever wear anything except heels? Vuk asked as Sean whisked us uptown in an armored SUV. I thought the armored car was overkill, but I wasn’t a security expert.

He hadn’t mentioned the Brotherhood since the wedding attack, and I was increasingly convinced he’d left D.C. to deal with them without telling me. But he was here and he was alive, so that was a good thing, right?

“Rarely. Are you complaining?” I crossed my legs, purposely showing off their curves. I suppressed a smile when Vuk’s gaze heated.

He’d told me to dress casually, which I had. A cashmere sweater and tailored pants were casual. I’d even selected my oldest pair of pointy-toed pumps instead of something from next season.

Not complaining. Merely questioning your definition of the word “casual.”

“My definition is perfectly valid, and if you’re going to question my fashion choices, have the balls to do so out loud,” I said.

Vuk’s eyes crinkled at the corners. His rich laughter warmed my stomach, and I saw Sean gape at us in the rearview mirror before he caught himself. He faced forward again, but I thought I saw his mouth curve before he did.

Vuk had tried to explain his role to me once, but it went over my head. Sean was Vuk’s security chief, but he was also a bodyguard and a driver? I thought a former Special Ops soldier would have better things to do than ferry us around on a date night, but maybe not.

Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a plain red brick building on a quiet street. I squinted at the gleam of silver letters over the entrance.

“The Greenberg Senior Citizen Center?” I frowned. Why would Vuk take me to…oh my God. The pieces clicked, and my eyes flew to his face. “You didn’t. Are you serious?”

He shrugged. The spark of boyish mischief in his eyes made me grin almost as much as his laugh.

Sean told us he’d wait for us outside, and we entered the center to a delighted greeting.

“Vuk!” The plump, pleasant-faced woman behind the reception desk beamed when she saw us. “It’s good to see you again. It’s been too long. And you brought a girl! It’s about time. Aren’t you just beautiful, dear? Well, don’t let me keep you. Go on ahead. It’s about to start.”

The other staff members we passed on our way to wherever Vuk was taking me greeted him with equally warm hellos.

Eventually, we stopped at a pair of blue double doors. He opened them, and we entered what appeared to be a community room. Round tables dotted the space. Residents occupied most of the chairs, colorful plastic chips in hand. Several squinted at sheets of paper in front of them. At the front of the room, a dark-haired woman with a microphone stood next to a professional bingo ball dispenser.

It was bingo night at the senior center, and Vuk had finally answered my question about whether or not he was joking about his love for the game.

My chest felt like it would burst.

We took a seat at an empty table in the back. Several residents waved to Vuk, and a male nurse in scrubs handed us our chips and bingo cards.

“I can’t believe it.” I tried to wrap my head around this confirmed new side of Vuk, the bingo lover. It was like finding out the governor of New York spent his free time playing with Barbies, or a mob boss had a side gig performing clown tricks at children’s birthday parties. “You need to give me the backstory on this. When did you start coming here? How⁠—”

Shh. Later. He studied his bingo card, his brow furrowed in concentration. The game’s about to start.

My mouth snapped shut.

Over the course of the next hour, two things became clear: 1) Vuk Markovic was really into the game. Like, he refused to talk at all while it was happening, and 2) he was competitive as hell. It was a game of chance, but I was convinced he’d wrestle Lady Luck to the ground for victory’s sake if he could.

I hadn’t played since my fifth-grade Spanish teacher used the game to teach us vocabulary words, but I had a surprisingly great time. X’ing out squares on my card was quite therapeutic.

“B24!” the caller announced. She’d barely finished speaking before Vuk shoved a sheet of paper in the air. It said BINGO! in big black letters.

“And we have a winner!” the caller said amidst a cacophony of groans. “Let’s break for intermission. The next game will start in ten minutes.”

“Goddammit.” A white-haired woman at a neighboring table banged her fist against her armrest. “That’s the third time in a row I’ve lost!”

“Shut up, Fran,” the man next to her said. He had a hunched back and a raspy voice. He looked like he was at least ninety. “You used to swindle tourists with rigged card games in the park. This is karma.”

Fran cackled but didn’t deny the accusation. “Only people I swindled were those stupid enough to fall for it.”

Fran and Tom,Vuk said in response to my curious glance. I guess he was okay with talking now that the game was over. They’re dating.

Oh! Well, good for them.

“I see. Congratulations. You beat a room full of seniors,” I teased. “You must be proud.”

I told you. Vuk appeared quite pleased with himself. I always win.

“Uh-huh.” I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling. “Tell me. When did the big, bad Vuk Markovic first enter the thrilling world of competitive bingo?”

Big and bad, huh? He looked even cockier than he had a second ago.

I kicked him playfully under the table.

He laughed, but he gave me a serious response a moment later.

A few years ago, I was trying to close a big deal with a subsidiary. The father of the CEO at the time was a resident here. He loved Friday bingo nights, so the CEO tried to play with him at least once a month. We were down to the wire in negotiations, and Friday night was his last night in the city before he left on a long trip to Asia. I offered to close out our negotiations here.

I tilted my head. “You negotiated a multimillion-dollar deal with another Fortune 500 CEO at a senior center bingo night?” I asked doubtfully.

Vuk smirked. It’s not any better or worse than closing deals on a golf course or over dinner.

Okay, valid.

His father passed soon after the deal closed, but I enjoyed our bingo night so much that I came back the next week, and the week after that. Like I said, it’s nice to unwind with something that doesn’t require much thought or strategy.

“The center lets you play even though you don’t have family here?”

Vuk just looked at me.

“Right.” I shook my head. Did anyone ever say no to him?

Some staff members were wary at first, but they got used to seeing me here. I also donate a lot of money to them every year, and I paid for a professional bingo setup. I think…He was quiet for a moment. My father would’ve liked it. Not the nursing home part, but the fun and camaraderie. He loved playing games, especially with strangers. He used to sit in the park and challenge passersby to checkers or chess. He almost always won.

My heart twisted. “You must miss him very much,” I said softly.

It was Vuk’s first time discussing his parents. I read somewhere that both of them died of different illnesses a while ago.

It’s been years. I got used to his absence. Despite his efforts to hide it, I caught a glimpse of pain in Vuk’s eyes.

He obviously didn’t want to talk about his family anymore, but I felt compelled to share something equal in return.

I toyed with the edge of my bingo card, debating, before I said, “My father’s the reason I signed with Beaumont. When Hank scouted me, my family was going through a tough time. The restaurant hadn’t quite taken off yet, and my father’s hand got injured in a kitchen accident. It was…horrific. He needed extensive surgery and physical rehab after. His insurance only covered a fraction of the costs; we had to pay the rest out of pocket or forgo rehab altogether. But the doctors warned us that if he skipped rehab, he might never regain full use of his hand. He wouldn’t be able to cook like he used to.”

Memories collided with the ghost of helplessness. Vuk listened, his eyes never straying from my face.

“He already gave up one of his dreams,” I said. “He’d studied engineering in Ethiopia, but once he immigrated to the U.S., his degree was worthless. So he turned to his second love, cooking. If he lost that too…it would’ve devastated him. We had to make it work.” I ripped off a corner of the bingo card. “Liya and I were both in school at the time. My mother and Aaron worked at the restaurant, and it was all they could do to keep it afloat in my father’s absence. We tried our best, but we didn’t have enough money to cover the medical bills. Not even close. When Hank came along and offered me this glamorous modeling career, it seemed too good to be true.”

I’d been right. It was too good to be true. The career had worked out, but at what cost?

I should’ve stopped there—I doubted Vuk wanted to hear the whole, sordid tale—but now that the floodgates had opened, I couldn’t prevent the rest of the words from pouring out.

“He said they’d offer a bonus if I signed with Beaumont. The bonus alone was enough to pay for months of rehab. They also paid for my headshots, transport to casting calls, everything I needed to get started. I’d heard of Beaumont, and all my research suggested they were a legit agency. One of the best, in fact. Plus, I was so desperate to help with the bills that I didn’t review the contract as thoroughly as I should’ve. I saw a few red flags, but Hank assured me they were standard for the industry, and we didn’t have money for a lawyer. So I signed with them. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how predatory the contract really was. Plus all those headshots and costs they so ‘generously’ covered for me? They took those out of my paycheck. Even when I started getting bookings, I was in debt to them for two years.”

I’d been so naive to think they’d paid those costs as an investment in my career. Beaumont never did something out of the goodness of their hearts.

“Things changed when Jordan chose me to be the face of Jacob Ford. That was my breakout campaign, and I was booked solid after that,” I said. “But even after I got out of debt with Beaumont, I had issues with late payments and random fees. I would’ve left ages ago, but my contract also included a clause that held me liable for a significant amount of money if I tried to terminate without ‘just cause’ as determined by them. The penalty would’ve wiped out my savings, and I was also scared Emmanuelle would blacklist me if I left on bad terms.” I let out a humorless laugh. “I guess I should’ve done it anyway since I ended up in pretty much the same place I was trying to avoid.”

She’s not going to blacklist you. Vuk finally spoke. Intermission was drawing to a close, but he didn’t seem so concerned with the game anymore. You have more power than you think. Don’t let her intimidate you.

“I’ll try,” I said with a weak smile. “I told my parents Beaumont and I parted ways, but I kind of…glossed over the details.” Hopefully, they never found out the ugly truth. “If the lawsuit news hits the major outlets⁠—”

It won’t. I’ll take care of it.

If Vuk were anyone else, I’d call bullshit, but he exuded such confident authority, he could tell me he’d bring down the moon and I’d believe him.

“Thank you. For sharing this with me…” I gestured around the community room. “And for listening.”

His face softened. Anytime.

Our gazes broke apart when the dark-haired woman called the next game into session, but the warmth from our conversation lingered.

It was funny how talking about the hard things with Vuk always made me feel better afterward, not worse.

We stayed at the center for another hour. Neither of us felt like going out after bingo night officially wrapped, so Vuk had Sean drive us to my apartment. He walked me upstairs while his security chief waited in the car.

“You should come in,” I said. “For a nightcap.”

“If I come in, I won’t leave, srce.”

“I’m okay with that,” I said shyly.

We hadn’t had the “so what are we?” conversation yet, and he’d never stayed over at my place. But there was no better time to start than now, right?

To my disappointment, Vuk shook his head. “As much as I’d love to spend the night with you, I have a meeting with Singapore in half an hour. It’s about our expansion there. I’ve already pushed it back once; the board will kill me if I postpone again.” He gave me a rueful smile. “I’ve been neglecting the company. Lots of distractions lately.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Are you calling me a distraction again?”

A shadow passed over his face, but it disappeared before I could say anything. “The best kind.” He leaned down and gave me a lingering kiss. “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

That was the date of our next shooting lesson.

I nodded. We said good night, and he waited until I safely entered my apartment before he left. I heard his footsteps fade as I slumped against the door, my lips still tingling from his kiss. I couldn’t suppress a huge grin.

Even though he couldn’t stay over, tonight had been incredible. Seeing a new side of Vuk and hearing him open up about his family, even a little, was better than any fancy date or expensive gift.

I basked in the afterglow for a minute longer. Then I turned on the lights, tossed my bag on the couch, and was about to head for the shower when the hairs on my nape prickled.

Something was wrong. I felt it in my gut.

The warmth evaporated from my skin. My pulse accelerated, and I almost unlocked the front door so I could easily escape into the hall if needed. But what if there were intruders outside, waiting for me to do just that?

Instead, I pulled up Vuk’s number. I kept my thumb over the call button while I listened for strange noises.

Dead silence.

Nevertheless, I crept into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I inched my way through the apartment, my heart racing. A quick check of the closets, bedroom, bathroom, and even under the sink revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The windows were closed, and everything was where I’d left it.

I released a slow, shaky breath that gradually turned into a laugh. I was fine. I was simply being paranoid.

I returned the knife to the kitchen and went back to the living room to grab my water bottle. It was halfway out of my purse when a manila envelope caught my eye. It sat on the coffee table amidst a pile of magazines, knitting needles, and a legal pad filled with notes from my last call with Sloane. It blended in with the mess, which was why I’d missed it earlier.

My heart picked up speed again. I stared at it, frozen.

There was no return address or text on the envelope. It was perfectly innocuous.

It was also proof that someone had been inside my apartment because it definitely hadn’t been there when I left.

I edged toward the table and picked up the envelope with a trembling hand. Whoever left this was gone, but that didn’t stop an army of ants from crawling over my skin.

I wanted to run downstairs and open it in the safety of company or toss it in the trash and pretend I never saw it.

But I didn’t.

I retrieved its contents and⁠—

My stomach lurched. I gagged, the remnants of dinner surging up my throat as I stared at the images in horror.

They were photos. Bloody, gruesome photos of a man’s mutilated corpse. He was so mangled, he looked like something out of a slasher movie.

There was a note clipped to one of the photos. It contained one sentence typed out in neat black font.

It’s time you found out exactly the type of man Vuk Markovic really is.