Page 39 of Flare

“He thought it was yours,” Hunter explained. “And since he knew I had the same shirt in a different material, he took a photo to show how all the beautiful people were wearing your stuff. But it’snotyours, is it? There’s that subtle difference in the yolk and I couldn’t remember seeing it in that shade of blue. But fuck, Rhys, other than that, it looks exactly like yours. I thought you should know.”

I kept staring at the image, hoping it would change, but there was no escaping the bald truth that someone had fucking stolen my design. The yolk was a shade different and the fabric was a cheaper silk mix rather than full silk, but everything else wasexactlythe same, down to the silver thread on the cuffs and the point at which the placket ruffles faded into silver buttons above the belt. I’d deliberately lengthened that section to give more swagger to the cut, something no one else had on the market. It was one of my debut signature pieces and had flown out the door when it first hit the racks. Tiny differences aside, it was unmistakeably my design.

“Can you do anything?”

“Probably not.” I white-knuckled the phone and suppressed the urge to throw it against the wall. “Fashion has fuck-all copyright protection and the differences only need to be subtle unless you’re some huge label with a documented history, like Louboutin wanting to trademark the red soles of their shoes. Or unless the thief tries to use my actual label on the piece, because thatistrademarked.Orif it uses an original print of mine on the fabric itself. And I would need to have the design registered, which is a long, complicated process for a bit player like me, especially when it only takes a small change to render the copywrite completely fucking useless, like that yolk, for example. So yeah, thanks for making my day.”

Hunter winced. “Sorry. But I thought you’d want to know.”

I handed his phone back. “I do. Send me a copy, will you?”

He forwarded one and my phone dinged in my pocket. Then he kissed my cheek. “We’re about done here, now. So how about you forget all about people ripping off your shit for the moment and go rescue your sexy sasquatch.”

I turned my attention to Beck, which immediately made everything just a little bit brighter. “He’s not that hairy,” I protested crossly. “And it’s actually kind of cute.”

Hunter smiled. “And my work here is done.” He gave me a little shove before wandering back to his models, who were mostly naked and climbing into their own clothes while completely ignoring the empty change cubicles. I barely gave them a glance, having seen enough beautiful bodies in my time that the free show didn’t even raise a brow, let alone anything else.

Alec raised a hand to ask if he was needed for anything else and I shook my head, adding a heartfelt, “Thank you.” All three had done well, but Alec had proved himself the natural talent I’d hoped for. He was going to raise a tidal wave of interest at Fashion Week when he strutted that runway for the first time as my ring-in. He had no idea what was about to hit him, and the fact he’d proven to be a nice guy as well was just icing on the cake.

With no excuse left, I sucked in a breath and headed for the desk... and Beck. I had an apology to make, one I’d been avoiding for five days.

Beck had his eyes on me before I was halfway across the room.Why not give him a shot?Damn Hunter’s voice in my ear.

“Sorry about the holdup,” I apologised. “Andfor my mother. I usually try to mediate any first encounters or fix a muzzle of some description involving dire threats, but we were both ambushed. I hope it wasn’t too painful.”

Beck’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “I wasn’t going to stay, but Kip insisted.”

I skewered Kip with a glare and he blew me a kiss.

“And your mother was fine. She’s a hard case, but I like her.”

“You do?” I narrowed my gaze. “Mmm, you’re either crazier than you look or you need to get out more.”

“She invited him for dinner.” Kip’s mouth curled up in a shit-eating grin.

Dear God.I blasted him with a glare. “And you just let this happen?”

“Hey, she’s your mother.” He batted his eyelashes. “I just work here, remember?”

Beck laughed. “I wouldn’t worry. I’m sure she was just being polite.”

I levelled a look his way. “No. She wasn’t. So be prepared. I’ll try to get you out of it, but no promises.”

He blanched.

I turned to Kip. “Is Jack out back with Drew?”

Kip nodded. “They’re sorting out the bins.”

“Drew?”

Damn.So much for Jack owning up to what went down that first day. “Drew is a year older than Jack and sometimes visits out back for a chat and a coffee. Let’s just say he and Jack got off to a rocky start, but don’t tell Jack I said anything.”

“Shit.” Beck heaved a sigh.

I reached for his arm but stopped myself when he tensed. “They’ve moved past that now and seem to get along well enough. Drew will chat while Jack cleans, or sometimes we just let them sit and talk.”

Beck frowned. “That’s not exactly helping you.”

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