Page 66 of Her Every Fantasy

My pulse jumped into my throat as the frenzied rush intensified.

The soft drone of voices filtered in as the main doors were opened to welcome VIP guests. The event organisers were serving premium champagne and world-class canapés as the music seeped backstage.

I forced myself to take a breath. ‘I have to go.’

Bryce stared at me for a moment before his features softened and he nodded. ‘Everything looks amazing, rosebud. You’ve got this.’

A lump swelled in my throat, snatching the words from me.

It will be fine.

It will be a success.

I’d deal with business. Then I’d deal with whatever fate held in store for me and Bryce.

But the words, no matter how brave, couldn’t stop fear knotting in my belly as I returned backstage and threw myself back into the fray.

It was still there, growing larger as the main lights dimmed and the thumping Afrobeat I’d picked for the event throbbed through the speakers. From my vantage point, I watched the gold-and-purple spotlights hit the four models suspended in wicker baskets above the catwalk. Legs slowly swinging back and forth, bodies seductively reclined, they looked like barely clad African goddesses, right down to the ethnic bangles on their wrists and forearms.

But the moment the cables lowered them on the four corners of the catwalk and they stepped onto the runway, the focus fell on the lingerie.

Bold and striking and proudly plus size, they strutted down the long purple carpet to the sound of gasps and applause.

My breath caught again, my heart flipping up to lodge in my throat for the solid hour the twelve models showcased the forty-eight outfits chosen for the show.

‘Savvie?’

I turned at the soft whisper of my name. Nellie stood behind me, the garment bag draped reverently over her arms. ‘It’s time.’

Nodding, I stepped away from the curtains.

In my small dressing room, I changed into my outfit. The black-and-purple corset-and-garter ensemble was trimmed in predominately purple Ghanaian-made kente cloth, the matching black silk dressing gown also trimmed in the rich fabric. I pulled on glossy black lace-topped stockings, adjusted the garter belt, and fastened the bespoke headdress into place. My make-up artist had worked her magic earlier, so all I needed was a touch-up and the costume jewellery that completed the ensemble.

‘Wow,’ Nellie whispered when I stepped out.

Nerves held at bayby sheer willpower threatened to break out. I shook out my fingers and took three deep breaths. On the fourth, the curtains parted, leaving me framed in blinding light.

Shoulders back.

Chin up.

Smile.

For the longest time I’d faked confidence until it became second nature. But tonight felt...different. Maybe it was stunned gasps where there’d been electric buzzing for my models before as I stepped out in sky-high heels to begin my walk down the runway. Or the fact thatIwas different. That the concerns and hurts and uncertainty of my place in the world were suddenly reduced to a small, manageable kernel and in its place a wild acceptance that I was doing what I was born to do.

You’ve got this.

Bryce’s words pulsed through me as I strutted down the catwalk. As the gasps turned into excited whispers and then outright shouts of admiration as I stood poised at the end of the long gangplank, hand on hip, letting the photographers have their fill before executing a neat pivot.

My gaze landed on Bryce. The raw intensity in his eyes made my heart stutter, then surge with wild hope.

You’ve got this...

I love you, I wanted to scream.

I bit my lip just in time. With my eyes on him, I slid off the robe, and while the audience basked in the full effect of the outfit, I basked in the look on Bryce’s face and dared to believe that this wasn’t just a risky little game we were playing.

That therecouldbe more.

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