“This way, Kira,” Mark said, moving to put a hand on my back, then stopping himself before leading me deeper into the house.
“Miss Rutherglen is having all the fittings done now, before things get…” He glanced around as people carried in statues of carved animals and lighting and swathes of fabric. “Much more insane. Through here.”
I felt like we were trying to get from one side of a busy train terminus to another, rather than around Jen’s house. But when he finally leaned forward to open a door, gesturing for me to precede him, I admit, I was kind of glad.
“Coming through!” Several guys carrying slabs of imported beer rushed past us, trailed by several others.
“Walk around!” Mark snapped, holding out a hand when they didn’t look like they were listening.
Whoa! Mark was tall, like six foot four tall, and the muscles I saw flexing under that suit definitely didn’t make me feel like saying no to him, but it took a bit for the alcohol suppliers to register. They slammed to a halt, bunching up as Mark opened the door and waited for me to step through before glaring at the men and closing it behind him.
A door that led into a whole other realm it appeared.
The large room, usually one of restrained elegance, was an explosion of colour and texture. Mounds of clothes covered couches, and a few mannequins sporting extravagant costumes had been placed by the window. And equally as decorative, several slender women wriggled into skin tight sheathes that seemed to be part foliage, part dress.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, turning around when I saw nipples and bare stomachs and full Brazilians on display.
“Through here, miss,” Mark said, apparently unmoved by all that nubile female flesh. He steered me towards one of the internal doors as the girls giggled. Maybe Mark’s gay? I thought, unable to put together anything more coherent. Well, I was about to be able to test that theory. I walked into a room full of equally nubile, very firm and muscular male flesh. I glanced up at Mark, wide eyed, wondering where the hell he’d taken me. He just frowned as he looked past the men tracing gold paint across each other’s flesh in intricate swirls to the other doorway, where Jen and a tall man with deep brown skin and green eyes conferred over a clipboard.
“Miss Rutherglen,” Mark called out, sounding anything but like an employee.
Jen’s head jerked up. She tossed the clipboard to the guy, threw her hands up in the air, then walked over with a squeal, pausing only to slide through the gap between the many mostly naked guys and shooting me a naughty smile as she did so.
“You made it! It’s absolute chaos right now. I was scared you were going to pike out!”
I wanted to. I wanted to cancel so hard I could almost taste it, but Jen was right. Mum and Dad wouldn’t live forever, and if I was to have a chance of supporting myself with my photography, this was it. I needed to step up and out of my comfort zone. Right out of my comfort zone, I thought as I watched the men paint.
“You found Ki for me? How kind, Mark,” Jen said with a knowing smirk.
“We’re having problems with the new security team. They don’t seem to be looking at the guest or staff lists we gave them. Speaking of which, I better get back.”
“Nonsense!” Jen declared, swooping in and snatching two glasses of champagne from a tray a server had just brought in. The guys put down their paintbrushes when they saw it and clustered around like a herd of Grade A beef to get some. She handed me the other. My hands were already sweaty, so the thin stem slid between my fingers until I cupped it like a brandy snifter. “I need to outfit the both of you, and now is as good a time as any other.”
“Miss Rutherglen, we talked about this. Me and my guys will be in regulation—”
“And you’ll stand out like dog’s balls. A phalanx of black-suited men in a party like this? Hardly a circumspect presence. You’ll need to wear a costume like all the other staff, Daddy’s orders,” Jen said.
Her smile was polite and professional, but there was a steely undertone to it that I’d never really seen before. I glanced from my friend to her bodyguard and back again, and caught the moment he sighed and said, “Fine.”
“Excellent! Ki, you’re going to love what I’ve got planned for you! Marlow, your next sacrificial lambs are here!”
We did not love what they had planned for us.
Marlow, the man with the clipboard, looked away from where the male models had resumed their painting. Those green eyes took us in with one long look, and then a feline smile spread over his face.
“Come through. I’ve got a lot to work with here.”
Like my fat arse, I thought as we walked into what appeared to be a makeshift change room. Racks upon racks of vegetation themed clothing covered the floors along with more standard glamourous gowns, skimpy lingerie, and what looked like honest to goodness loincloths.
“Hey, boss.”
A guy wearing a leather kilt and nothing else looked up with a grin when we arrived. It was Paulie, one of the other bodyguards, but damn… Suits always carried with them that power dressing mystique, but there was also that ‘what’s he rocking under that jacket’ element as well. Paulie had that rough and tumble, laddish grin that made him seem a lot more attractive than his features should have allowed, but oh my freaking god, the guy had god bod going on. My eyes followed the way the muscles bunched and flexed as he tied up the last lace on the Doc Martens he was wearing on his feet, unable to do anything but follow the happy trail as it went down and disappeared under his waistband.
Marlow cocked an eyebrow at me, then smiled before pulling a garment bag off the rack with a flourish. “Now, this might be a bit of a controversial choice, but I think it’ll really work.”
“I can’t wear that,” I said.
My eyes scudded over the corseted dress, designed to push everything my mother gave me and more up on a platter, ready for anybody to pluck. It would flatten out any lumps and bumps, because I could see the boning went through the ribcage and past the waist, flaring out over the hips. The garment then exploded in a flourish of romantic ruffles, greens of every shade with a few blush pink accents that would cascade over my legs. It wasn’t super long, but would be dragging along the ground all night, and as I peered over Marlow’s shoulders, all the shoes lined up there were heels.
“No, no, no,” I said, backing away, as if putting distance between myself and the dress would make my wishes come true. Jen protested, and Marlow’s eyes glittered as I went, like a cat’s would right before they pounced on a mouse. The two of them kept on coming, holding the garment out like some kind of high couture poltergeist, ready to swallow me up and spit me out fashionable. I aimed to back out the door, past the very hot models and all the way to my car, but I hit something very hard.
“Ow!” I said, turning to see I’d bumped into Mark, and he was looking at the whole room like it was some kind of horrific car crash. “Oh shit, sorry.” I turned back to my two pursuers. “No, Jen.”
“Yes, Ki—” Jen said.
“Miss Rutherglen—” Mark rumbled.
“No, Jen. No, no, no.”
“OK, y’all need to stop right now.” Everyone’s eyes snapped to Marlow, who held the garments out with barely contained irritation. “You, tall, dark and handsome. You work for the fabulous Miss Jennifer, yes?” Mark nodded. “You want to protect her and all of the many strange and splendiferous people who will be attending the launch?” The nod grew more curt. “Then put the damn kilt on. We did quite a bit of consultation with your firm back in town. These have pockets and capacity for carrying concealed weapons. We even designed some inserts—” Marlow’s voice was cut off by Mark snatching the offending garment from him and striding off through another set of doors to what I assumed were the changing rooms.