Chapter 50
CHAPTER FIFTY
It was a mayhem he’d never known. People shouting orders, half-naked models strutting around side-eyeing him like he was candy, cameras flashing all over the damn place, and not a single security person who looked like they knew how to use a gun if they needed to.
The security personnel he spotted near the backstage entrance were only there to check passes and linger by the access points.
There were a pair of asset protection guards present for the jewelry on site, who looked equally useless, and another private security personnel for a high-profile model. That was it.
Someone with a few skills and the right weapons could stage a hostile takeover.
Jordan himself had strode into the space, three weapons strapped to his body, with no hassle. It was a fucking security nightmare, and his anxiety was through the roof.
“It’s pathetic out here,” Dex’s voice crackled through the earpiece.
“Either that, or prison really skewed our expectations for security.” He was patrolling the rest of the gallery.
“The plainclothes guys couldn’t be more obvious if they were driving an undercover police cruiser.
I picked out each one before I finished a full rotation. ”
“It’s no better back here,” Jordan muttered. “I’d be surprised if any of the suits knew the difference between their dicks and their guns.”
Dex chuckled. “Guess that’s something else you only learn in the slammer. How to watch our backs.”
“Fifteen minutes until lights!” someone shouted.
A young woman in a purple pantsuit holding a clipboard appeared in front of him. She barely reached his armpit, but her expression said she didn’t care. “Sir, I need you to leave backstage. They’re lining up the models and clearing the space.”
This had been the agreement, but he didn’t like it. “I can make myself scarce.” He glanced at the name on her identity lanyard and forced a smile. “Kennedy.”
“I’m sorry,” she said firmly. “You’ll have to go. You can return after the show to escort Ms. Barone out of the area. But you’re not cleared to be here during the show.”
He bit back a growl. He knew the rules and intimidation tactics weren’t his style, so he nodded and made his way to Vanessa.
“They’re kicking me out,” he informed her.
She patted his chest. “Poor, Zeus. How will you survive without me for an hour?” Her robe slipped, exposing a smooth shoulder.
He straightened and tried to relax his jaw. “Are you not wearing anything under that?”
She glanced down. “Not yet, I’m going to wardrobe next.”
Wardrobe was a rack of clothes at the far end of the room, where models changed in the open. The fashion world was a different fucking planet.
“I’m going out front. Dex and I will have eyes on you the whole time you’re on stage. After the show, I’ll come get you.”
She saluted him.
“Vanessa, I fucking mean it. I can’t guarantee I’ll have control over everything here, and I don’t trust this show’s security as far as I can throw them. So please promise me you’ll stay here until after the show. Okay?”
She stood on tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
But he wasn’t so sure. Everything seemed off. Probably the chaos of the show, and that he was so out of his element, but he couldn’t shake the dread. It was the same sense of foreboding he’d had the night of The Link’s show.
As soon as the night was over, he was taking her back to the hotel and not letting go for the rest of the night.
One thing Jordan never thought he’d do was attend a fashion show, and in the past ten days he’d attended two. Even after acknowledging that he knew absolutely nothing about the industry, he still thought Vanessa’s show at The Link was by far the better production.
That show had been engaging, fun, and the clothes being modeled were real clothes that real people had a chance of buying if they wanted.
The Cassidy Moore show was as high end as it got.
The kind of production the kids at The Link could only ever dream about.
The crowd sitting in velvet chairs looked like they could be extras from The Devil Wears Prada.
The models came out wearing clothing that, while absolutely stunning, wasn’t anything he’d ever seen hanging on the rack at a department store before.
He blended in with the shadows as Vanessa came out, this time in a jaw-dropping red two-piece evening gown, the top a sculpted arrangement of roses.
She moved with confidence, pride, and effortless grace.
In that moment, he knew he could spend the rest of his life in the background, content to watch her shine.
When she walked, the whole room was drawn to her. Cameras flashed, heads turned, and every eye locked on her. He saw why people were fascinated with her. She wasn’t only beautiful, she was magnetic. Spirited. Real. The kind of person everyone wanted to be.
She struck a pose at the end of the runway, her signature hip pop, and flashed a radiant smile. Jordan scanned the crowd, spotting Dex doing the same from his vantage point across the room.
Who knew how much danger she was really in? Maybe her stalker was still in Portland, waiting for another chance to get close when she returned.
Maybe it was safer for her to stay in New York, far from the threat.
When Vanessa’s friend Nikki appeared on the stage in a floor-length forest green dress, Vanessa turned at a perfectly choreographed moment, and the two women crossed paths in the middle.
Vanessa smiled brightly as she always did, but he caught something in Nikki’s smile.
Maybe it was the lighting, but there was a flash of… envy.
He knew it because he’d worn the same look many times growing up. Wanting what someone else had. Money, power, a decent house, a fast car. Jealousy had driven him down plenty of roads he regretted.
What would it drive someone like Nikki to do?
He watched the rest of the show, growing more tense with every minute. The end couldn’t come soon enough. He wanted to have Vanessa back in his arms, where he knew she’d be safe.
Finally, the models streamed onto the runway two by two, and at the end, Cassidy Moore emerged, arm in arm with Vanessa, who beamed under the lights, clapping, and gesturing to the designer. Cameras flashed, the crowd buzzed, and Jordan struggled to keep an eye on Vanessa.
He pushed through the crowd, tracking her across the runway one last time, fighting every instinct to jump on stage and pull her to safety.
When the models turned to return backstage, he made a beeline toward Dex.
“I’ll meet her in the back. You clear the front. There’s an after-party she wants to attend. We’ll meet you there.”
Dex nodded before disappearing into the crowd. He’d have to bring that man on board his security team permanently when this was over. Dex had more than proved himself.
It took longer than he wanted to fight his way backstage.
The crowd that had trickled into the venue was now leaving en masse.
And he had to show his event badge at every checkpoint.
When he finally got backstage, he found a different kind of mayhem.
People were everywhere, but he couldn’t see Vanessa.
But he did catch sight of Kennedy, who had scolded him earlier, and made his way to her. “Vanessa Barone,” he demanded, his voice tight. “Where can I find her?”
Kennedy looked around as if searching. “She should be here somewhere. If not, she might’ve already headed to the after-party.”
No, she wouldn’t. He’d told her to wait right here.
So where the hell was she?