Page 47 of King of Envy

He stared at the drink, which came in a smiling gray kitten mug. I had a brief vision of him throwing the poor ceramic kitty against the wall, enraged by its cuteness, but he picked it up without comment. It looked absurdly delicate in his hand.

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh.

Vuk glanced around the kitchen.Your apartment doesn’t look the way I’d imagined it would.

“Do you spend a lot of time imagining my apartment?” I teased, echoing his earlier remark about me looking him up online.

Perhaps it was the lighting, but I could’ve sworn the faintest wash of pink tipped his ears. When I blinked, the color was gone.

I must’ve imagined it. Vuk Markovic didn’t blush. Ever.

Most models don’t collect animal mugs or allow so many colors into their decor.

Most models? How many models’ apartments had he been in?

The need to know itched beneath my skin, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of asking.

“First of all, that’s an overgeneralization. Second of all, not everyone bows at the altar of minimalism,” I said, pushing the image of him with Polina or Indira or Vlada out of my head.

I swept my eyes over emerald green cabinets, copper cookware, and white tiled walls. I’d painted the cabinets myself, and I’d have to paint them back when I moved out. It was worth it; I couldn’t stand their old sterile white color.

“When I first moved to New York, I shared a model apartment with other girls from the agency,” I said. “It was the blandest, most colorless place you could imagine. We didn’t know how long we’d last here, so it didn’t make sense to spend time and money decorating.” Both things had been in short supply back then. My current situation came with its own set of problems, but I would never miss those early days of cattle call castings and constant rejections. “When I finally got my own place, I wanted the exact opposite. So I filled it up with everything I loved, even if those things don’t match.”

I was of the firm belief that a home should feel like a home. Books should be read, couches should be sat on, kitchens should be used. A house wasn’t a museum; it was a tapestry of who we were and the lives we’d lived.

Yet you’ll have to move again soon.Vuk paused.Unless Jordan is moving in with you.

My smile dissolved. “No. He’s not.”

Jordan and I had agreed to move into his Upper East Side townhouse after we got married. I should’ve already started packing, given our new wedding date, but I hadn’t opened a single suitcase.

I wasn’t dreading it. I’d just been busy with Fashion Week. That was all.

“It’ll be great,” I said. “I’ll have so much more…space.” Stuffy, formal, antique-ridden space.

Jordan said I could redecorate to make myself feel more at home, but what was the point when I had to move out ofthathouse in a few years too?

“How did you and Jordan become friends?” I steered the conversation toward safer waters. “I know you were roommates, but lots of college roommates don’t keep in touch this long after graduation.” I’d asked Jordan, but his answer about them “bonding after a while” had been too vague to satisfy me.

Vuk’s expression was so austere I couldn’t believe it belonged to the same person who’d laughed earlier.If I answer, that’ll be your third question.

I groaned. You’d think I was torturing a confession out of him instead of asking for basic background info.

Still, a deal was a deal.

I hesitated, debating whether that was worth using my third question. Perhaps I should ask him something deeper, like how he got his scars or why he chose not to speak, but that seemed too invasive. We didn’t know each other that well, and I didn’t want to force him to discuss something that would make him uncomfortable.

Icouldalso ask what he meant by his note on the plane. It sat in my nightstand drawer, and I revisited it more often than I cared to admit.

I don’t hate you. But I wish I did.

His answers for what it meant could vary, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know any of them.

I nodded, giving him the silent go-ahead. I really was curious about his history with Jordan. They were as different as night and day, and their friendship surprised me more than anything else I’d learned about Vuk so far. Well, besides the bingo thing, which I wasn’t fully convinced he was being honest about.

We weren’t friends at the start. We were civil, but I was too quiet and he was too loud. We had…different interests. Then I got into trouble, and he saved my life.

I sucked in a breath. “He never told me that.”

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