Page 8 of King of Envy

My nails dug into the leather seat. By “distractions,” he meant my wedding preparations.

Hank and the agency’s management hadn’t been thrilled when I told them I was engaged, but they hadn’t put up a huge fuss until this past month. That was when the wedding prep went into full swing and filled up my schedule. They’d been breathing down my neck ever since.

“I haven’t jeopardized a campaign yet,” I said. “I’ll be back by Monday morning. Don’t worry.”

“Good. Because if you’re not, we’ll be forced to deduct the lost earnings and the cost of time and labor from your next paycheck.”

Anger surged up my throat. I swallowed it before it spilled out in a deluge of curses that would make a trucker blush.

“Understood.” Still calm, still even. I wouldnotlet him hear me panic.

He hung up, and I forced myself to take a deep breath before I unclenched my fist and dropped my phone back into my bag.

Hank hadn’t called because he was worried I would miss Monday’s shoot; he’d called to reassert his authority over me. To remind me that I was beholden to him because of the stupid contract I’d signed when I was nineteen and hadn’t known any better.

My anger spread into my stomach and mixed with nausea.

Six more months.

I had to deal with him for only six more months. After that, I could break my contract and free myself from the agency forever.

I’d wanted to leave for years, but that hadn’t been possible until Jordan came to me with his proposal.

I took another deep breath and faced forward again. I barely had time to compose myself before heat scorched my cheek, and I turned to see Vuk staring at me.

Was that your agent?

I’d known he could hear my end of the conversation, but I was so startled by his sudden desire to converse that it took me a second to respond.

“Yes. We were talking about—about an upcoming photoshoot.”

You sounded upset.

First, he initiated conversation. Now he was concerned about my emotional state?

I almost checked the car for hidden cameras in case we were on a prank show, but Vuk Markovic would never deign to go near reality TV.

Instead, I did what I did best—I deflected.

“Not upset. Just a little stressed with everything going on.” I flashed the same smile that’d landed me a coveted deal with Delamonte Cosmetics. “What about you? Anything exciting going on at work?”

Not the most inspired of topics, but it was the only one I could come up with on the fly.

What did he say to you?

So much for deflection.

“He was reminding me of Monday’s schedule.” I wasn’t going to spill my deepest, darkest secrets to Vuk, of all people. Even Jordan didn’t know how bad things were with Hank. “Why are you so interested in what he said? Don’t tell me you’re looking for an agent.”

I meant it as a light-hearted tease, but Vuk’s glower only deepened.

Hank Carson. That’s his name?

I nodded, hiding my surprise. My agent’s name wasn’t something the average non-industry person memorized.

Vuk’s face shuttered, turning cold and remote. A flicker of darkness passed through his eyes, and goosebumps peppered my flesh.

I crossed and uncrossed my legs again, my stomach warm despite the sudden chill. It was like he was imagining Hank’s murder because…of me?

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