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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.
If you were my fiancée, I wouldn’t look at another woman. Entertainment or not.
Jordan was having the time of his life, and I would rather throw myself into a pool of battery acid. It would be a miracle if I got through the night without murdering someone.
“Looks can be deceiving.” Sloane’s cheeks were flushed a deep pink. The margaritas had gotten to her. “According to one of my friends, it’s the quiet ones you have to watch out for.” “Oh, I believe it. You know who fits that description?” A sly smile spread across Indira’s face. “Vuk Markovic.”
“So? That doesn’t make you a nun. Besides, I bet even a nun would have unholy thoughts about that man.” Indira sighed. “Say what you will about his face, but that body? Whew. Anyway, that’s what doggy style is for, or I can turn the lights off when we’re having sex. If he didn’t have those scars, he’d be really hot, but I wouldn’t want to look at his face when I’m about to come, you know?”
Karma was a bitch with different faces. Sometimes it was an attempted assassination; other times, it was a fucking laser tag night with my friend, his fiancée who I was secretly obsessed with, and a model who clung to me like a barnacle. Oh, and a bunch of drunken people I didn’t care about.
A month ago, being alone with Vuk Markovic on a dark street would’ve given me a panic attack. But somehow, somewhere, that had changed. If I could choose anyone to be with at that moment, I would choose him.
Jordan was her fiancé in name, but I was the one she’d turned to first. I was the one who understood what she needed—not comfort, but vengeance. I was the one who would kill and die for her in the same breath. No other man could match that, ring or no ring.
I’ve never told anyone the details of what happened before. Not Jordan. Not my staff. Vuk switched back to signing before he added in a low voice, “Just you.” Warmth unspooled in my chest. “Why me?” “Ayana.” My name sounded like a prayer and a curse on his lips. “You know why.”
Vuk was right. We were going to get through this. As long as we were together, we could get through anything.
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’m not usually a compromise person, srce, but for you, I’d agree to a thousand compromises if you asked.”
“And yet, you won’t translate srce,” I breathed, trying to restore some semblance of control to my emotions. “You know what it means,” Vuk said, his voice tender again. I did. I’d finally looked it up, but even if I hadn’t, I heard the sentiment every time he uttered it. Srce moje. My heart.
Like my mother said, joy didn’t require the absence of grief, and happiness wasn’t always found in the big moments. More often than not, they existed in small pockets of time like these—in a room with an adorable cat, the man I loved, and the knowledge that he loved me back.
“I love you,” she said. “Not because you saved my life but because you’re you.” It was as if she’d read my mind. “Grumpy, sweet, smart, loyal…a little stabby at times, but no one’s perfect.” She smiled at my small huff. “I’m in love with every part of you, Vuk Markovic, and I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. Tonight just happened to be the night I found the courage to do so.”

