“Here.” She holds the bundle out to me. “It’s not going to kill you,” she says when I don’t move.
I take it from her and peel back the foil.
“Sullivan told me you liked turkey on wholewheat, so…”
“Thank you.” I hold the sandwich in one hand as I look at her.
Someone calls her, signaling she’s about to go on and she turns and walks away.
“When did he tell you that?” I call after her.
She glances at me over her shoulder with a hint of a smile. “When I asked him.”
People crowd her, fussing over her as they prepare her to walk the runway. I peel back the foil and take a large bite of the sandwich, my stomach growling in appreciation.
It’s the best fucking sandwich I’ve ever tasted.
“Hey, you’re with Sinclair, right?”
“That’s right,” I answer the model with long brunette hair.
I look away from her, my eyes moving back to find Sinclair on the runway. I’ve moved to a position where I can see her from backstage. She’s glowing beneath the bright runway lights as she walks it, a true professional. You wouldn’t suspect she has the need for a full-time bodyguard due to threats against her. She doesn’t look worried. Probably because she isn’t. She should take it seriously, but even if she won’t, I will. Anyone wanting to get to her will have to come through me first.
“She’s amazing, isn’t she?” the other model says.
I nod, still watching Sinclair.
I’ve been here for six hours while model after model in lingerie strut past for the show. None have that inexplainable something special about them that makes them shine the way Sinclair does.
The designer was backstage earlier, a guy in his thirties, buzzing with energy as he tutted and huffed, smoothing lace, and tweaking silk. He took one look at Sinclair and grinned without fixing a thing.
Camera lights flash faster than they have for any other model as Sinclair reaches the far end of the runway and does a slow twirl.
Jenson would give his right nut to be here watching all this. But it just puts me on edge. There are so many people around her all the time. Talking to her. Touching her. Obstacles in the way should I need to get to her quickly.
“I’m Theodora.”
The brunette holds out her hand as I glance her way. I take it, shaking politely. “Denver.”
“I know.” She gives me a coy smile. “You usually work with Sin’s father. I’ve seen you with him.”
I just nod.
“How are you finding being here?” She looks around the busy space. The show is almost over. Sinclair is modeling the finaloutfit, and the designer is now out, joining her on the runway, receiving huge applause.
“It’s fine.”
“Fine,” she repeats. “You must be bored waiting around for Sin for so long.”
Sinclair and the designer are walking back up the runway toward backstage. I turn toward Theodora to position myself to see the entry point where Sinclair will reappear backstage, just over the top of her head.
“It’s my job.”
“Do you clock off after the show ends?” She brushes her hair over her shoulder, exposing a sheer lace bra beneath. Her dark nipple is visible through it, and her smile widens when I notice.
“No. He’s mine tonight. And tomorrow. And the next day,” a familiar voice says.
Theodora spins as Sinclair walks over, dressed in a nude lace bustier and matching G-string.
