Page 130 of Flare

The music crescendoed and then appreciative gasps and murmurs rolled like a Mexican wave along both sides of the runway as the first two looks took to the catwalk.Boththe historical Regency jackets together, and they looked fucking amazing. An excited buzz circled the crowded room and cameras clacked like castanets.

Without seeing the jackets on a live model, I hadn’t appreciated just how fucking sexy they were, and how totally captivating. The rich colours. The decadent flounced shirt fronts. The cinched waists. The boots. The slight military bearing in the buttons and cut. There were so many male fantasy fetishes going on at once, it was kind of epic.

I ran my gaze along the all-important front row buyers and designers and hoped the rapt attention evident in their expressions meant exactly what I thought it did. Then I switched back to the runway in time to catch the two models before they left, and it suddenly hit me what Rhys meant about Alec. He was... mesmerising. And although the second model appeared more relaxed and confident, it was hard to take your eyes off Alec.

Even to my untrained eye, he hadsomething—a life about him, an energy. But more than that, it was as if he knew a secret no one else did. I understood that the models weren’t supposed to detract from the clothes, and it wasn’t that he did. It was more the feeling that you wanted the clothes he modelled because maybe that would get you closer to that secret.

“Alec’samazing,” Jack whispered, almost in awe.

“He is indeed,” the man alongside Jack agreed. “A new face. What’s his last name?”

“Williamson,” Jack answered excitedly. “Rhys discovered him when Alec and his best friend were shopping in Flare. Can you believe this is his first proper show?”

“No.” The man returned his attention to the runway, nodding. “He’s good.”

I tapped Jack’s arm. “Did you know Rhys was going to show both the jackets?”

He flashed a furtive grin. “Since Gloria didn’t end up putting her version of the jacket on the rack, he didn’t have to choose.”

The stranger leaned forward and turned his shrewd eyes on me. “Is Rhys the designer that Gloria supposedly copied some designs from?”

I nodded, wondering who the hell this guy was, but with his question answered, the guy simply nodded and turned back to watch Rhys’s main collection start its run. Forty pieces in various combinations and forms. I’d known Rhys was talented, but my lack of fashion savvy meant I had no idea just how bloody talented he actually was, and with every piece that passed along the runway, my heart burst with pride.

A little over two months after I’d angered Rhys by scoffing at the idea of fashion as art. How fucking ignorant. Now, it was time to sit back and marvel at the creative and beautiful mind of the man I loved.

* * *

Rhys

“Alec, that was brilliant,” I whisper-shouted over the line of models getting primped and pinned, to where Alec was already half-naked in the middle of a quick change. “Maybe cheat to the right a little more going down. You too, Daniel, but good work,” I added for the benefit of the other man.

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel flashed me a wry grin. “I know damn well I’m gonna have to watch this guy. It’s hard to getanyone’sattention when Alec’s on the runway. I’ll work it a bit more next time around.”

I gave him a thumbs up. Daniel was one of the good guys. Not as experienced as Shayne, but good-natured and not easily threatened. He’d have done well internationally, but he had a husband in Wellington and loved his life as it was.

“Besides—” Daniel shot me a wink. “—you should be out there yourself because you look fucking amazing tonight.”

“What this old thing?” I glanced down at my figure-hugging black leather skirt, split to the thigh at the side, and finishing just above a pair of gold stilettos. I’d topped it with a sheer black top, shot through with gold thread, and open at the back to expose a thin gold leather harness. I’d had my eyes painted a deep smoky and gold palate to match, almost like a Venetian mask, and a thin gold chain ran in and out of my hair.

Daniel snorted. “You know you look good.”

I shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m the damn designer. If I can’t work it tonight, when can I?” I caught sight of a model in the line and frowned. “Johnny, come here.” I waved the willowy brunet to the front and tugged at his shirt. “Turn around.” He spun and I shoved a couple more pins in the back seam under his jacket to cinch the shirt a little more. “That’s better, now get back in line, you’re almost on. Anne,” I called out to the petite makeup artist. “Can you fix Lachlan’s eyes? He looks like a fucking panda.”

“On it.” Anne ran to the lofty model third in line, and he bent down so she could work her magic.

“Where the hell is Frankie?”

“Still not here, Boss.” Kip appeared at my side. “Fucking no-shows are gonna kill us. That’s the second. Malcolm is still AWOL as well.”

“Goddammit, he must’ve got a better offer. What is it with these guys? Andrew is going to have to run twice.”

“I’ll get on it.” Kip hesitated, then sighed. “And a head’s up. Gloria is in the audience.”

I spun to face him, gaping. “What the fuck?”

He pulled a face. “Right? Just thought you should know.”

“Jesus Chri—wait, there’s Malcolm.” I waved the breathless man over. “Where the hell were you?”

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