Page 66 of Strut

“Hey.” Rhys’s tone was gentle. “You weren’t exactly strangers.”

I snorted. “He told you, then?”

“Yes. Although not until after he’d seen you there,” Rhys admitted. “And yet another reason to wring his bloody neck.” The line went quiet again. “But as to what Hunter wants you to do aboutthis? To be frank, Alec, I don’t give a fuck what Hunter wants. This is aboutyou.That’s what you need to focus on. What doyouwant to do?”

“I...” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I don’t know. I feel stupid that I let it get that far, you know? I should’ve stopped him. And now I just want it to disappear. I never thought something like this would happen to me, and if I say something, my whole career is at risk, and then Darcy will likely never be prosecuted anyway. But if I say nothing, he gets away with it and will probably do it to someone else, and I could still find my career over.” I drew a shaky breath. “What doyouthink I should do?”

Rhys sighed. “I can’t answer that for you. But you’re right that without physical evidence or witnesses, it’s a case of he said, he said. However, you might not be the first. Maybe the police have a record of complaints against him, which would help your case. Besides, even if Darcy isn’t prosecuted, his reputation would be damaged if he went to court over it. His golden sheen would be tarnished, and that’s no small thing in this industry. The fashion world gossip is vicious. And if there wasn’t enough to take him to court, then your statement would stay on record to back up any future complaints made against him. I’m not sure any of that helps, but it’s worth thinking about.”

He was right on both counts. It didn’t make me feel any better, but it clarified my thinking.

Rhys sighed and his tone softened. “It sounds trite, but I know how you feel, Alec. You’ve read the article. You’re talking to a man who, apart from telling his best friend, kept silent about his own assault for over fifteen years. The only answer I can give you is the one I gave myself to my own question. Would I do it differently now? My answer to that is yes. And it’s got nothing to do with nailing those fuckers from that night and everything to do with my own mental health. I would do it for me, not to get them. But that doesn’t mean it’s your answer. Every situation is different.”

“But what happened to me isn’t nearly as bad as what happened to you.”

“Stop, Alec. This isn’t a competition. We’re talking about sexual assault. They don’t hand out medals for rape over molestation or anything else. Assault is assault. It’s about consent and violation inallits forms. It’s about having the final say in what happens to our own damn bodies and who gets to touch them. I had that taken away from me, and so did you. The degree doesn’t matter at this point.” He paused. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“No. I need to hear this,” I said with a choke in my voice. “I feel so fucking numb, Rhys. I just want to hide.” There, I’d said it. “I want it all to go the fuck away. And I feel pathetic because I don’twantto doanything. I don’t know if I even care about what happens to anyone else, and god, how bad is that? I just want to pretend it never fucking happened.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” There was hoarseness to Rhys’s voice, like he was fighting back tears, and I kind of loved him for it. “I know you do. I did too. But even if you’d let the bastard do what he wanted to you because of his threats, it was still an abuse of power and position. He was trying to manipulate you. To coerce you into believing you had no choice, not if you wanted to succeed in the business. These guys know exactly how desperate models can be to make it, and not because you want success for its own sake, but because so many new ones are young and in debt up to their eyeballs.”

I thought of Tim and Miles and shook my head. “It’s like a smorgasbord for them, isn’t it?”

Rhys huffed. “Unfortunately.Hashtag MeTooisn’t even close to being done, and it didn’t change much in the fashion world, to be honest. Plus, there are subtle but important differences in the issues men have in coming forward. The same toxic masculinity that sees women sexually harassed and assaulted spawns the exact same problem for men in speaking up. And just like everyone else who goes through this kind of thing, none of it is their fault, oryourfault, got it?”

The question fell into that numb space in my brain that wasn’t yet firing. But at a certain level, I knew he was right and I answered, “Got it.” Convincing or not.

He snorted. “Yeah, I can see we’ll need to work on that. You did notlet itget that far. You didn’tletanything happen. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing.You were on a professional shoot.Professional, Alec.Darcy Fenchurch is solely to blame.Hecrossed the line.Hesexually assaulted you.Hethreatened you. Now you have to decide what, if anything, you want to do about it.”

Before I could answer, I felthimthere.Oh, thank God.My eyes closed in relief and my heart stuttered as Hunter slid alongside me on the bench, and his warmth enveloped me.

“Hunter,” I choked out his name and turned to look at him.

His beautiful brown eyes shone suspiciously. “Alec, I’m so fucking sorry.” He wrapped a hand around the back of my neck and pulled me in for a soft kiss. “I did everything wrong. If I’d stopped to think for just a minute, but I was so fucking angry about what he did to you, I still am. But I never meant—”

“Hunter? Is that Hunter?” Rhys called through the phone.

Hunter’s gaze jerked to the phone, then back to me. “Is that Rhys?”

I nodded, handing the phone over. “I, um, needed to talk to someone.”

Hunter accepted the phone without any indication he was hurt by the fact I hadn’t chosen to talk to him, and that gentle acceptance told me everything I needed to know.

The two of them talked but I wasn’t paying much attention, too stuck on Hunter actually being there, his serious eyes and the welcome rumble of his voice. I leaned against him, and the warmth of his arm as it slid around my waist felt like coming home. I put my head on his shoulder and he kissed my hair.

When he handed it back, Rhys was quick to finish up. “I’m going to let you two talk,” he said. “But I’m here whenever you need, middle of the night doesn’t matter. You can call, okay? And think about talking to someone, Alec. A professional. Don’t be an idiot like me.”

I blew out a sigh and nodded. “I will.”

“Good. Now Hunter says you’re sitting outside in the freezing cold. You never told me that, you chook. Go get warm.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Rhys. I really mean that.”

He sniffed. “Of course you do. I’m fucking brilliant. Beck tells me all the time.”

“Like shit I do,” Beck’s voice carried from a distance. “Take care, Alec.”

I wondered how much he’d heard, not that it mattered. I ended the call and shoved the phone in my pocket, then turned to Hunter and kissed him. “I’m sorry I left like that. It just all of a sudden hit me, and then I saw the list and—”

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