Page 127 of Big Dick Energy

Sam's voice echoed in my head as I stepped into the elevator.

Marrying a plus-size woman was great for publicity.

You need to let her go.

It's my job to protect your career.

The elevator doors closed, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Protecting my career had never been the point. Protecting my heart, protecting Davina, that was all that mattered.

And anyone who threatened that would learn exactly how far I was willing to go.

CHAPTER 38

COMMITTED TO YOU

DAVINA

Backstage smelled like hairspray, panic, and approximately forty different perfumes engaged in a territorial dispute.

I'd been standing in the same spot for twenty minutes, clipboard pressed to my chest like a shield, watching models have their final touch-ups while Marcus circled the room like a very stylish shark. Every few seconds, he'd stop, adjust a neckline, a hem, the precise angle of an earring, make a sound of either despair or satisfaction, and move on.

“The burgundy velvet,” he announced, stopping behind model number seven, “is magnificent.”

“You called it my grandmother's curtains a few weeks ago.”

“Your grandmother had exquisite taste, and I was wrong to question her.” He smoothed the fabric across the model's shoulder with reverent hands. “I should send her an apology card.”

“She's been dead for fifteen years.”

Paris was a dream, but Paris backstage at fashion week was a specific kind of beautiful that I'd spent three years working toward. The collection was ready. The models were ready. The venue was ready.

I was not ready.

I pulled out my phone and stared at the messages for a moment, the familiar ache settling somewhere behind my sternum when there was no new messages. The show was about to start, and he wasn’t here.

Dallas: Flight delayed again. I'm so sorry, baby. I've been at this airport for six hours. I tried.

He’d been trying since yesterday morning to get here. First the cancellation, then a delay, it was just one problem after another.

Davina: I know you tried. That's enough.

Dallas: I should be there.

Davina: You WILL be here. On the livestream.

“Show starts in twenty minutes,” Marcus said, holding out his hand.

I flashed him a look, but I shoved my phone into his hand.

“He's not coming,” I said. It wasn't a question.

Marcus's expression shifted between disappointment and pity. “His flight…”

“I know.” I cut him off. “I know. It's okay.”

“Is it?”