Prologue

PROLOGUE

EMZEE

I t’s funny how some things can change…but others? They only ever stay the same.

And sometimes, something that looks exactly the same as it always has from the outside can turn out to be completely different on the inside.

Like when your favorite French fusion restaurant on the North Side suddenly revamps its entire menu out of nowhere (even though it was already literal perfection). Or when you find out your scary-tough—but financially indulgent—workaholic father is actually a shady-as-hell international criminal. Or when the modeling agency you do photography work for decides to wholly switch up the way they operate, thanks to the arrest and removal of said father/international criminal as CEO, yet the media still wants to paint the place as an evil sex trafficking empire because they have no idea what’s really going on behind closed doors.

You know. Just as an example.

The sign in the lobby was brand new, and so was our management team, but beyond that, the offices on the twenty-ninth floor looked basically the same. My brothers and I had stopped doing business under the name KZ Modeling over a year ago. Henceforth, we relaunched as Danica Rose Management, named after our late mother. Getting a new sign made was easy—everything else, everything on the inside, well, that was a lot harder.

Still, I liked the familiar comfort I felt when I walked through the lobby of the fancy high-rise we worked out of. The way it felt the same as it did when I was a kid.

I used to love visiting my father at work when I was younger. Everything was so exciting back then. Back when I was too little, too na?ve, too sheltered to know the ugly truth behind the agency’s astronomical wealth and success.

It was still crazy to me how oblivious I had been to things that now seemed so utterly obvious. And it was hard not to be angry about all the secrets everyone had kept from me. Not just my father, but my two older brothers as well. They hadn’t taken part in the crimes, but they’d known about the whole thing long enough to join forces with the feds in order to take KZM down and get our dad thrown in jail. Meanwhile, I’d been left totally in the dark.

The ensuing trial had been lengthy, public, and very ugly. Stefan and Luka had both testified. After being found guilty on about a million felony charges, our dad was sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole, and Stefan took over as the new head of the agency and the family. It was still completely mind-blowing to me.

I didn’t know if I would ever really get over it.

As I headed across the lobby toward the sleek bank of elevators, I waved to Jorge, our head of security.

“Morning, Emzee!” he said, waving back. “You look ready to kick some culo today.”

He said that every day, about me kicking ass, and it always made me smile.

“You know I rock these shitkickers just to impress you,” I said, shaking a combat boot for emphasis.

“You tease,” he said. “I’m sure you have plenty of other men to impress.”

Ha. If only. No men. No boys, even. The only males in my life are my brothers, Stefan and Luka. Well…and Ford, I guess. But he’s definitely not impressed by me.

Technically, I had dressed up today, but not for Jorge. The truth was, the agency wasn’t the only thing undergoing a change. From budding professional photographer to part-owner of my family’s company, I knew I needed to start looking—and dressing—the part.

I still mostly wore black, but instead of jeans and artfully distressed T-shirts with a blazer or leather motorcycle jacket on top, I had added a few actual suits and skirts to my closet. I’d never give up my big black boots, though. They were me .

And yeah, I didn’t need to do much more than sit at a conference table today, but if the zombie apocalypse were to hit in the middle of a PowerPoint, you better believe I’d be ready for it. The only time I’d be caught in a pair of heels would have to be for a wedding (not mine, lol) or maybe a fancy date (which, ha. I wish.). Plus, they helped balance out my lack of height.

My suit was a perfectly tailored black St. John’s with a pencil skirt and a silk blouse underneath. My dark hair was pulled over my shoulder in a fishtail braid instead of hanging loose around my face, which made my gray eyes stand out, and I’d applied my signature winged eyeliner and a touch of nude gloss. Anything more dramatic, I saved for nights out.

Not that I’d had many of those lately.

It would have been easy to blame my perpetually on-the-prowl status on my hectic work schedule—and I was more focused than ever now that we all had something to prove—but the truth was, I’d never been the kind of girl that settled down long-term. I could casually date until I was blue in the face, but rarely did I reach the point of being in an actual “relationship.” Things always seemed to fall apart before then.

Probably for the best. Lord knows the media had devolved into a frenzy over the relationships of my older brothers. At least one of us Zoric children was happy to keep a low profile and stay out of the limelight.

The only exception was for my charity, See Yourself, which I’d founded to help former KZM models. I’d do just about anything to keep operations running. Including going out and getting attention.

The new clothes helped with that, too.

Still, I hated being noticed.

Growing up, I’d been told many times that I’d be a great asset to my father’s company if I decided to give modeling a try. I couldn’t do runway—I was too short for that—but, people suggested, I’d be great for print work. I was lucky to have inherited my mother’s hourglass figure, and my entire Serbian family had been blessed with good looks.

But what was beauty, anyway? I’d grown up around models, around photographers, and around all the people that flocked to them. Beauty was fleeting, and subjective.

It could be dangerous, too.

That was something I’d learned from my father, even though I hadn’t realized it at the time. I had simply never wanted to be stared at the way the KZ models were. Assessed. Admired. Objectified.

Shaking away my thoughts, I stepped into the elevator and jabbed the button that would take me up to the twenty-ninth floor. I checked my Shinola watch. Five minutes early. Excellent.

Stefan hadn’t said much in his email last night. Just that we needed to have a family meeting, stat. I twisted the strap of my bag nervously between my fingers. With everything that had happened to the business—to our family—in the past year or so, I’d gotten used to these meetings being full of bad news. It didn’t feel like today’s would be any different.

Though things weren’t all bad.

Ever since KZM had become Danica Rose, the atmosphere had changed. I came to work and saw smiling faces. People seemed more relaxed, no longer shrinking back every time my father stormed down the hallways. The models who had decided to stay with us (although technically, they signed new contracts with DRM) were happier, too.

And as for me and my brothers? For the first time, it felt like we were a real family. One that didn’t keep secrets.

I’d always looked up to my brothers, and I knew they loved me, but we’d been raised very differently. I was the baby. Coddled, sheltered, and, in so many words, a bit spoiled.

Stefan and Luka, on the other hand, were brought up in my father’s image, brought up to be a certain type of man. The type that was the head of a typical Eastern European family. The type that was like my father.

It created distance between us because their lives were so different than mine. Separate. I knew now that they’d been forced to do things they hated, that my father’s special attention—especially the type he bestowed on Stefan, his heir—came with painful consequences. It had nearly cost our family everything.

Thankfully, our father was out of the picture, and things were heading in the right direction. Both of my brothers had married amazing, genius, incredibly decent human beings, and Tori and Brooklyn had changed my brothers’ lives. And mine.

I’d wanted sisters my entire life, and with a few “I do”s, I got to have two.

Soon, they were both going to be mothers. I was going to be an aunt. Auntie Em.

I was beyond thrilled.

The elevator doors dinged open and I headed down the hallway with an extra bounce in my step, waving at our receptionist and a few agents, all who smiled and waved back at me. Knowing everything we’d gone through to get to this point, I felt a surge of pride.

No matter what Stefan had to say today, I knew I could hold on to that feeling.

Despite being a few minutes early, both Stefan and Luka were already waiting in the conference room when I swung the door open. Both of them looked tense. As expected.

“Morning,” I chirped, trying to lighten the mood. “Is that carafe full, or do I need to swing by the break room for some fresh coffee?”

“Damien just dropped it off, along with some pastries,” Luka said. “Help yourself.”

Gosh, it would’ve been nice to have an assistant of my own at my beck and call. Always ready with the piping hot coffee and donuts. When I popped open the pink box, I locked eyes romantically with the guava cheese pastry, which I then snatched up before Stefan could grab it. Then I took a huge bite and got comfortable in my chair, waiting for the verbal bomb to go off.

Stefan let out a long sigh.

“Whatever it is, I can handle it. Just spit it out,” I said. “Also it’s making me nervous that you’re both standing there looming over me. Can you two sit down?”

They dropped into chairs across from me, but the vibe stayed anxious.

A year ago, the sight of both of my brothers in a conference room, side by side, ready for business, would have been a real shocker. Stefan had always been devoted to the company, sometimes to his own detriment, but Luka? Luka wouldn’t have been caught dead doing anything resembling work when he could have been out banging models and getting drunk.

It was amazing how much they both had changed.

Now, Stefan wasn’t living at the office, working around my father as he tried to find a way to save the women who were being trafficked through our company. My oldest brother was still busy as all get out, but he was devoted to Tori and I knew he was over the moon about the newest little addition that would be joining the family soon.

And Luka, well. He had finally stopped looking for himself at the bottom of a liquor bottle. He’d become a completely different person since marrying Brooklyn. Thank God for that.

There were times I felt a slight twinge of jealousy, knowing they got to go home at the end of the day to a partner who loved them, while all I was going home to was Munchkin.

I loved my rescued French bulldog—seriously adored him—but it wasn’t quite the same.

Studying Stefan and Luka more closely, I realized that something else was off. Usually Tori and Brooklyn were present for these family meetings. Not today, apparently.

Stefan adjusted his tie, took a sip of coffee, and then cleared his throat.

“We have a problem,” he said. “A very big one.”

Even though I’d been expecting it, my heart still sank.

“Of course we do. What is it this time?” Luka asked, running a hand over his face. He suddenly looked as nerve-racked as I felt. We’d been through so much over the past year, and every time things started getting better, we were hit with some heinous new catastrophe.

“This…is much worse than anything we’ve dealt with before,” Stefan said. “I don’t even know how to say it.”

“If you could figure it out soon, it’d be much appreciated,” I said dryly. “I have a nail appointment at noon.”

Luka shot me an eye roll, which I knew I deserved, but you couldn’t blame me for trying to insert a little levity after hearing something so heavy and ominous.

“This is the thing. Despite dismantling KZM’s operations here in the US, the trafficking organization Dad was a part of is still active internationally,” Stefan said. “It’s thriving.”

“Okay…” Luka said. “And this affects us how?”

Stefan’s lips thinned into a hard line, and all of a sudden I thought I knew what was coming next. Dread curled low in my belly, and I pushed my pastry away, suddenly nauseated.

“The organization is not pleased that they’ve now lost one of their biggest outposts,” Stefan went on. “I’ve been contacted by the Bratva.”

Luka let out a long breath, and my jaw fell open. Even I knew who the Bratva were.

“The Russian mob?” I blurted. “Fuck. We’re dead.”

Stefan nodded. “We’ve cost them money with Danica Rose going legitimate, and they have now determined a dollar amount equivalent to what we owe them. Our debt, as they put it.”

“This is bullshit!” Luka exploded. “We don’t owe them a goddamn thing. We’re not like KZ. We don’t have to roll around in the muck with them anymore.”

“Unfortunately, that is not how they see it,” Stefan said.

He took out a piece of paper and wrote something on it.

“This is what they believe is owed to them,” he said before passing it to Luka.

“ Jesus Christ .” Luka looked like he was going to be sick. “This can’t be real.”

He passed it to me and my eyes bugged out at the number.

It was impossible.

We’d worked so hard, as a family, to get this business into the clear, to drag it free from my father’s corrupt hands, and now this?

“We don’t have this kind of money,” I said. “And even if we did…we can’t just hand it over to them.”

“There must be something we can do,” Luka said.

Stefan took the piece of paper from me and tore it into pieces.

“This information does not leave the room we’re in,” he said. “There’s a reason that Tori and Brooklyn aren’t here. They don’t need to know anything about this. Got it?”

Luka and I nodded, even though I was barely paying attention. All I could think about was the money. That the Russian mob wanted. From us. The Bratva—the Brotherhood—was nothing to be fucked with. I knew the cruelty, the violence, the inhumanity they were capable of.

And I knew they wouldn’t hesitate to act if someone got in their way. Danica Rose Management was, apparently, in their way.

This was bad. Very, very bad.

Stefan said, “Look. I know this is…”

“Fucked,” I finished for him. “Totally, completely, irrevocably fucked .”

“Accurate. But the point is, we’ll figure it out,” he said, his expression softening a little.

I hated that so much of this fell on his shoulders. It didn’t seem fair.

With that sense of dread and uncertainty hovering around us, we all left the conference room. My brothers went back to their executive suites. I went for a long walk.

Outside in the fresh Chicago air, all I wanted to do was call my best friend, my oldest friend. All I wanted was to talk to Ford, to tell him what was going on. He was more than just my friend…he was my hero. In all the years I’d known him, he’d always been the one other person (besides my brothers) that I could depend on. He’d always been there for me, and would go out of his way to come to the rescue and fix whatever problem I had. I trusted him completely.

But I couldn’t trust him with this.

Not just because Stefan had made us promise to keep it secret. But because I knew that this was one thing that Ford couldn’t fix. Maybe nobody could.