Page 43 of Obeying His Rules

“Not if I get it first!” Charlotte laughs, leaning past Brian. I glance at him, and we both sort of smile at each other. What else are two married men supposed to do in a situation like this? Neither of us knows much about the clothes, and we definitely can’t be checking out the models, so we’re really just along for the ride.

Another model passes wearing a red dress with a single strap that crosses her chest and then somehow seems to spread out into layers that become the rest of the dress until it opens up like a flower just above her knees, billowing as she walks.

This particular girl has a lot of spirit and tosses her hands in the air and smiles, which draws some applause from the crowd.

I still may not know a whole lot about fashion, but I do know from talking to Rain that Janelle would ruin a girl for behaving like that. But I guess that’s the difference in walking for someone nice like Rain and a tyrant like Janelle.

“Oh my God, it’s like a flower!” Taylor comments. “So gorgeous!”

“Right?” Jasmine replies. “I am dying right now. How come Rain isn’t just making stuff for me all the time?”

She turns to me. “Can you please tell your wife that I need some samples, please? You’re like ultra-mega-rich. You can afford to make them up for me, right?”

I chuckle. “Ultra-mega-rich? Is that an official tax bracket?”

“It is,” she says with a smile.

“Oh,” I reply. “Well, I’ll get right on it then.”

The last girl, wearing an angelic white dress with a long train behind it, finishes her walk and vanishes off stage. I instantly sit up in my seat, my hands ready, poised with anticipation.

This is Rain’s biggest show yet–the one that will really get her name out there. After she said yes to my proposal, I immediately started funding her designs. We hired Randy right out from under Janelle’s nose and picked up some more people they suggested and opened a small studio in Brooklyn.

Janelle did what she could to try and blackball Rain, just as Rain had said she would, but there was just one problem: Rain’s designs were just too good. She simply could not be stopped.

Social media went crazy when they saw her work, and with my funding behind her, there was no way Janelle was going to keep her down.

It took a little longer than it might have if we didn’t have a war to fight, but within two years, Rain had a successful women’s fashion brand going that focused mainly on upscale dresses and blouses.

And that’s when we made it official.

I put a wedding ring on her finger in the French Riviera where we vacationed for two weeks, drinking champagne and making love by the sea. Then we went to Paris to check out all the best fashion spots that Rain had always wanted to see but had never had the chance. I spoiled her rotten and loved every second of it.

Then it was back to New York to continue our work.

My company continued its growth as I picked up more and more contracts, and Rain worked harder and faster on her designs, inspired by what she’d seen in Paris. I’d never seen such creative output from her before.

Her collections came one after the other, never stopping, never losing an ounce of quality. The reviews were phenomenal. She was a force to be reckoned with. Celebrities were wearing her stuff, and she was being tagged online. She couldn’t believe it, and every time she would talk about the success of her brand, her eyes would light up.

I couldn’t have been happier for her.

Until today.

I look up as she steps out onto the runway, wearing a simple pair of cropped black jeans and a checkered black and white blouse, her hair up in a ponytail. She told me she didn’t want to dress up because she didn’t want to compete with the models, but I told her there was no competition.

“You’re already going to be the most beautiful woman in that room tonight, baby.”

I’m on my feet in an instant, clapping and cheering as she steps out into the light, looking like she always does: slightly nervous, slightly timid, bashful and anxious, but also proud of herself–as she should be.

She gives a few tiny head-bows, then waves to the crowd a few times. I catch her eye just before she starts to turn away, and blow her a kiss. Brian, Charlotte, Taylor, and Jasmine all shout and cheer and wave with major enthusiasm.

There she is, I think as my heart floods with happiness and joy. My beautiful, talented wife.

I have to brush past what feels like a thousand half-dressed models on my way backstage to find Rain, and although I’ve done this many times now, it still feels awkward. I’m a married man; I’m not here to pick any of these girls up, and even if I was, it just doesn’t feel like the right environment for it.

So I keep my head down and my eyes averted as I thread my way through them as I search for my wife.

To my surprise, I bump into someone I never expected to see here–not in a million years. Janelle Blanc, standing in front of me, wearing a thick wool blood-red pea coat with the collar popped, causing her to look even more villainous than she normally does.

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