Page 33 of Flare

Good God in heaven, thank fuck for that.

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An accident on the motorway meant we didn’t get to Flare until ten after four, and I was forced to accompany Jack inside to explain the delay instead of just dropping him at the door. The universe was a bitch that way. But I needn’t have worried about anyone noticing Jack’s late arrival, as the place was in total chaos.

“Holy shit.” Jack came to a stop just inside the door and I nearly barrelled into his back.

Kip raised a hand. “Wait there a sec. They’re almost done.”

Twenty people and about as many conversations filled the store with an electric buzz of excitement. Three of the men lounged in various states of undress in front of a photographer who was busy directing the angles of their hands and head, while a woman fluffed around brushing cheeks, finessing hair, and draping clothes. Another person adjusted the glaring lights—no doubt to ensure everyone’s flesh cooked evenly since the heat in the store was about a million degrees.

A few seconds later, the photographer called for quiet and the noise in the room dropped to a hum. When he was done, one of the models stood and shook out his arms and legs and just happened to lock eyes with me. Tall, blond, and gorgeous, his mouth curved up in a slow, inviting smile.

I almost turned to see who he was looking at when I caught sight of Rhys glaring at the model before turning those burning eyes on me. I raised my hand and he did the same, a little lacklustre and with a frown in place.Well, fuck you.

He hesitated, then turned and walked across to the photographer and started talking. After a few seconds, they both looked my way.What the hell?The photographer then wrapped an arm around Rhys’s shoulders and something distasteful curled in my belly as my head was dragged from that sand hole it had been rammed into all week. I glanced back to the beautiful model who was clearly amused about the whole thing, and I wondered what the fuck I’d missed.

Kip finally waved us over, apologising for the madness. “We’re doing a shoot for a fashion mag as part of the build-up for Fashion Week. It’s an important plug for the label since we’re tiny minnows in the pond, but interested minds want to know and we need all the publicity we can get. He’s had a hell of a week.” Kip nodded toward Rhys.

“Where do you want me to start?” Jack stared wide-eyed at the mess the store was in.

“Clear any obvious rubbish you can see into bins but don’t throw any fabric out, just in case. Then dump those bins into the skip out back, and maybe clean the kitchen. Do that and I’ll love you forever. It’s a tip in there, so be prepared.”

Jack immediately took off, which impressed the hell out of me, and I grabbed the opportunity to check in with Kip. “How’s he doing?”

Kip glanced behind him, then smiled. “Good. He’s still a bit mouthy at times, but he’s learning that doesn’t fly with us. He does what he’s told without pushback most of the time and we can handle the rest. He’s kind of a whizz with tech, isn’t he?”

Was he?I frowned.

“Fixed our pay machine when it was doing crazy things on Monday and I had a queue of people waiting. And last week we had an issue with our alarm needing some kind of rejigging after an outage. I suck at that shit, let me tell you. But Jack had it sorted after five minutes on the phone with the company.”

“He did?” Shame washed through me. “I... no, I didn’t know that. I guess I should’ve.” I glanced to the back of the shop and made a mental note to talk with Jack about what he saw himself doing in the future. I’d been so focused on just trying to get through each day, I’d completely missed something important again.

Kip directed me to a chair out of the way. “Take a seat. Rhys won’t be long.”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “I have a load of marking I need to get done.”

“Please.” He flashed a full-dimpled smile that no doubt landed him most anything, oranyone, he wanted, but it didn’t fly with me. A pair of rich brown eyes sprang to mind instead of that smile, but I shoved them aside just as quick.

“Come on, sit,” he coaxed. “They’re almost done, and I know Rhys wants to talk to you.”

“He does?” I narrowed my gaze. “About what?”

Kip shrugged. “You know, I can’t remember off the top of my head. Funny that.” His lips quirked up. “Just sit. I’ll get you a coffee.”

And so I sat, berating myself for having caved so easily and absolutely positive Rhys had said no such thing to Kip. And if my gaze just happened to search the room and land back on the man himself, who could blame me? He drew my attention like a fucking magnet, and today was no different—dressed in sinfully low-crotched rust-coloured pants of a style last seen on MC Hammer, and made of some gossamer billowy material that screamed money and was likely produced by a chain-gang of silkworms fed on snow leopard milk and spider webs. They draped over the curve of Rhys’s arse like a soft sigh while hiding practically nothing.

A tight black shirt with a plunging neckline was tucked into the deep waistband, under a military-style jacket with silver buttons and a cinched waist. And to complete the picture, a black leather choker with a silver ring dangling at the front held me captive for far, far too long. The overall effect should’ve been ridiculous. Instead, it was breath-taking and sexy, and I didn’t doubt for a minute it was his own design.

The stunning model who’d smiled my way might’ve been classically more beautiful, but nothing outshone Rhys in that room, even if he did look slightly harried, his dark hair mussed on top like he’d dragged fingers through it all day, and with tight lines of frustration at the corners of his mouth. He glanced my way, frowning once again, and my heart jolted at the lack of their usual spark, and it hit me that beneath the glamour of the clothes, Rhys was tired, bone tired.

I was almost off my chair to walk over and... what? What the fuck did I think I was going to do?

Kip slipped a coffee into my hand and patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’s been a big week, that’s all. The label has to make as much from the publicity around Fashion Week as it can. Rhys can’t do it all on his own, but God love him, he does like to try. Two weeks ago I risked life and limb by making an appointment for Rhys to talk with Kate over there by the window.”

I studied the vibrant twenty-something blonde busy on her phone.

“Rhys nearly ripped my throat out in the nicest possible way because she’s one of the major fashion influencers and her sponsorship doesn’t come cheap. But it made sense and he needs the help. He just won’t accept it. Plus, if we pay herthisyear and she likes what she sees, then hopefully she’ll plug us for free after.”

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