Page 112 of Strut

Rhys snorted. “Tell me about it.”

“I’ve given his name to Tim as well. But talking with Conrad has also been good. And you,” I told him. “To be honest, these days my anxiety is less about the assault and more about the people and media who won’t let it go.” I nodded in the direction of the audience. “But as long as those people out there dig deep in their pockets, regardless of what they think of me, I’ll be happy. Rainbow House and the sexual assault program deserve every penny we can get them from these annual fundraisers. I’d hate to let you down.”

“Not possible.” Rhys eyeballed me. “And we’ll get the money.” He sounded surprisingly certain.

“I hope so.” I glanced at the phone in his hand. “How long till I’m on?”

“Fifteen minutes give or take.” Rhys patted my arm. “We’re not exactly running to time, and you’re ready way early. And don’t worry about the money. We’re halfway to our target already.”

I gaped at him. “Really?”

He nodded. “We had eight of the top ten Australasian labels here tonight, not to mention the Drag Queen Runway Event. Plus, all the raffles and giveaways. And did you see the eye-watering price of the dinner tickets? Plus, on the other side of that wall sits the glitterati of Auckland’s LGBTQ community just waiting to undress you with their eyes. The new it-boy for Berlini? Auckland’s own, Alec Williamson? Hell, they can’t wait.”

“Shut up.” I gave him a playful shove and he laughed.

“If I were you, I’d be worried about getting out of here with your dignity intact,” Rhys continued. “Let alone your clothes. If I’d been smarter, I would’ve auctioned your arse for a date after the show. Dinner with a supermodel? Fuck. We’d have doubled our money.”

“I amnota supermodel,” I protested.

“Tothemyou are.”

It was a bit cringeworthy, but still nice to hear. “Mmm. I somehow think your best friend might’ve had something to say about his boyfriend going under the hammer for a date,” I teased.

Rhys winced. “True. Who’d have thought Mister Pump and Dump had a sappy possessive streak lurking under all that crass fucking around. He’ll be baking cakes next.”

I snorted. “I’ll tell him you said that. And I’ll have you know he’s actually very domestic.”

“Oh god, please don’t.” Rhys rolled his dark-brown eyes. “Bad enough that I saw him open a door for you the other day. Totally fucked with my head.”

A willowy woman with cascading black hair, dark olive skin, and pouty red lips sidled up and kissed my cheek. “This is the best fun, Alec,” Tina Keegan whispered. “I’m so glad we came.” She flashed a smile at Rhys. “We’re making it our mission to get your label to a New York show next year, so be ready. And make sure to bring your yummy boyfriend.” She nodded to where Beck stood holding up a wall and wearing a loopy grin from ear to ear.

Rhys sighed. “He’s one or six champagnes in already, I think.” But there was no hiding the love in his gaze. “He’s gonna be so much fun tonight.”

I shuddered. “Please, you’re messing with my zen.”

Tina laughed and moved on to her next charm offensive and Rhys followed her with his gaze. “How the hell did you get Tina Keegan, Charity Nolan, and Gus Holden to a fundraiser fashion show in little old New Zealand? Three primo supermodels. I’m fucking impressed.”

I shrugged. “It didn’t take much. The lure of a holiday in New Zealand, the chance to strut for up-and-coming international designer Rhys Hellier—” I waggled my eyebrows at him. “—and the opportunity to raise more funds for a sexual assault awareness program, hell you were speaking their language. I barely got the question out when they jumped at it.”

“Jumped at what?” Tall, dark, eminently lickable, and dressed in black Flare from top to toe, Hunter leaned in, hovering just out of kissing range. “God, look at you,” he whisper-growled. “I could eat you alive.”

I leaned back from those advancing lips. “Nuh-uh, mister. Watch the gloss. Not to mention your scruff will mess with my makeup.”

He grinned and swooped sideways to plant a kiss on my shoulder instead, which turned into a nibble... and yes, I might’ve possibly groaned.

“I do like this.” Hunter slid his finger into the silver ring on the dog collar and tugged me close.

And damn, that was all kinds of hot. “You would.” I shot him a wink and ran the tip of my tongue between my lips. “I could see if the stylist will let me take it home?”

“Mmm.” Hunter put his lips beside my ear. “You just do that.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “And that’s me outta here. See you in the line, Alec. And don’t forget, this isn’t fashion week. This is fun. We want their money. Make them throw it. Last run of the night, the runway is yours, sugar. No rules.” He left me with a wave over his shoulder.

Hunter took my elbow and steered me to a quiet space. “You okay?” He knew, as always.

I shrugged and tried not to let him see just how anxious I was. “Kind of. I know I shouldn’t care what people think, but... it’s a work in progress. Like that reporter yesterday asking how a big guy could unwillingly find himself in that position? Jesus Christ.” I scuffed my shoe along the floor.

Hunter tipped my chin up with his fingers until I was looking straight into his beautiful eyes. “You nailed that dumbarse though. Told him that’s pretty much what every bully, rapist, or sexual predator says about their target. That took balls. And it shut him up real fast. He won’t try that again.”

---