by Sedona Venez
I burst out laughing so hard that tears trickled from my eyes.
Finally catching my breath after doubling over with laughter, I said, “I mean, I love Kevin to death. But seriously, I don’t get your weird attraction to him.”
Jade could have any man she wanted with a flick of her finger, but she wanted Kevin. Yes, he was supermodel gorgeous. Essentially, he was the way hotter version of Superman’s alter ego. But Jade’s and Kevin’s personalities were polar opposites.
“You’re outgoing with a party-over-here vibe… and Kevin, well, he’s reserved with an I’d rather spend my Friday night scouring the Dark Web for intel thing going on.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Damn if I can explain it. All I know is every time I see that fake Clark Kent, I want to snatch off his glasses and shove my hands down his pants just to see if he becomes”—she waggled her eyebrows—“the Man of Steel.”
“Well, you know what they say… Nerds do it better.” I grinned.
“Give me some time to snag him… and I’ll let you know if that’s really true.”
I shook my head. “And on that note, I have a show to do.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Now scoot your ass to your front row seat and let me dazzle you with my extravaganza of drool-worthy fashion.”
“Yes, Queen Sin.” Jade bowed dramatically. “See you on the runway, sweetie,” she replied before strolling away.
Jade coming backstage was a welcome distraction from my frayed nerves about the debut of my collection.
“Well, back to the grind,” I muttered under my breath before turning my focus to the last-minute details that needed my attention.
The final sixty minutes before showtime went by in a blur. In true Sin Michaels style, the hair and makeup teams put the final touches on the models’ conceptual beauty looks that included sparkling, tribal facial jewelry, lace masks, floor-length fetish ponytails, and warrior-like metal headbands.
Finally, the group of dressers arrived. Models were outfitted in their looks and lined up backstage, ready for their turn on the runway.
Once the sun had fully set, it was runway time. The formerly deafening hum of workers backstage became so quiet that I could hear a pin drop.
Models lined up, and I double-checked the ensembles as they waited for their cue. The gong signaled the start of the twenty-five-looks show, which would wind around a runway the entire length of the pier.
My stomach fluttered with the excitement that I was about to turn the fashion world sideways.
Three, two, one, go time!
I positioned myself in front of the monitor backstage to watch my collection on the runway. It was equally as important to me to see the women exit the runway as it was to see them walk down the runway. I had to see how the clothes worked and moved from all angles.
Years ago, my life had gone into a tailspin after finding out the truth about my parents and who I really was, and the Bigsby drama had finally been put to rest. I wasn’t the same after everything I’d experienced in such a short period of time.
So after much deliberation, I’d decided to take a mini sabbatical to get my head together. Core and I’d traveled the world together to places I’d only dreamed about—Italy, Australia, Singapore, Japan, France, Africa, Morocco, Egypt, to name a few—and I’d immersed myself in the different cultures and their fashion in a way that only heightened my design sensibilities. It didn’t hurt that, along the way, I’d collected swatches and bought fabrics during our travels that became the foundation for my new collection.
After our expeditions, I’d come back to the United States refreshed, excited, and ready to take on the fashion world again. I’d scrapped my old designs and started anew by creating a mood board that captured the essence and vibe of my new collection. The process of creating the mood board had allowed the subconscious creative narrative to come out of my head. Then I’d used the swatches and fabrics I’d collected during my travels as inspiration for my sketches, illustrations, and pattern-making. But the creative process was not complete until I’d made patterns and handed it off to my friend and seamstress, Summer.
I liked to keep it local as opposed to sending it to the factories. It was important for me to have the human experience transferred to the garment. The creation process was exhilarating; sometimes I sewed until my fingers bled, and then I began to fit the garments on my foam mannequin that I’d named Jade.
For months, I had created over a hundred samples, but only twenty-five styles had made the show after my editing process. I smiled, remembering the hectic three weeks before the show when it had become intense. During that time, I’d had to firm up the guest list with the show producer I’d hired, which tremendously helped me. She’d not only assisted with producing the show, but she’d also handled the press and sales.
But it was the week leading up to the show that was the worst for many designers, including me. It had been filled with endless days of problem-solving all the things that could and would go wrong. I remembered all of the angst that I’d gone through as my show drew near. It was marathon time with no time to eat or sleep. Shit, I was lucky to get a damn shower in.
I couldn’t believe that now it was almost time for curtains up. And after all this work, a typical show only lasted minutes.
But even with all the angst and drama I’d been through just to get here tonight, if anyone asked me, the fashion junkie, if it was worth it, they’d get a resounding, Hell yes!
Even despite the fact that, all day, I’d worried if the audience would understand the message—fashion is for everyone—of my entire collection based on these selected looks.
As the lights dimmed, the crowd hushed and the show began. I held my breath while self-doubt crept in.
I was scared to death to share my collection with the world even though I knew that my show was courageous.
Eager fashionistas perched in the front row and battled for photos as the models finally made their highly anticipated journey down the runway.
I bit my bottom lip, and I started to wonder if I’d made all the right choices.
The models were on the runway, showcasing the designs I’d worked on for so many months.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
The first model strutted down the runway, wearing a black dress featuring an open-knit mesh detail in metallic silver and holding up a black leather purse to her forehead that read Sin Michaels in gold letters to let the audience know I was a brand force to be reckoned with.
I could feel the collective sigh from my team. We just loved it so much.
The crowd buzzed with anticipation.
My favorite female R&B vocalist, Infinity, provided the soundtrack, followed by pop hits of the past half century that formed a medley on the Sin Michaels soundtrack—everything from Rihanna’s “S&M” to Jay-Z’s “Empire State of Mind.” The lively sampling was the key to my collection. It was my love letter to diverse women and their individual style.
There was something electric in the room as the next model strutted down the runway with Who the fuck is Sin Michaels? etched on the back of an oversize shirt. It was these stolen moments during the show that felt the most special to me because it encapsulated the badass bad-girl DNA of my clothing line.
As the models completed their circuit of the runway and returned backstage, my team of ten dressers quickly changed them into the next look, and off they went again.
The audience pressed forward, applauded, and made sounds of oohing and aahing. I felt breathless from excitement.
The clothing was a celebration of my life. The models, clad in head wraps with jeweled detailing, represented New York in all of its organized chaos. The collection had beading, sequins, psychedelic prints, tinsel, and more, embodying New York City’s essence.
A main focus was lingerie-like lace dresses. Many were draped or tied around the body, which had that edgy Gothic yet romantic feel I was known for. To toughen up the sheer, delicate looks, I incorporated plenty of mens
wear-inspired suiting pieces—some structured, others done up in fluid silk and heavily adorned with metal hoops and chains, hanging pearls, and textured leather, accessorized with Swarovski crystal lunch bags etched with the letters SM.
Palpable excitement buzzed through the charged air.
My team and I’d stitched every single bead, sequin, and rhinestone onto my elaborate clothing by hand.
Along with a selection of menswear, the drama really came out halfway through the show when a series of couture-like looks walked the runway. There were voluminous ballgowns, modern tie-dyed feathers, cascades of fringe, impeccably layered sequins, intricate embroidery, and patchwork—each the result of a painstaking attention to detail.
Jade was among the famous faces on a stylish front row, and she caught the attention of the cameras as she shouted out, leaning forward and cheering with a lot of enthusiasm, as the rest of the audience applauded the designs parading down the catwalk.
Sculptural organza danced around the models like whimsical waves, and then came my va-va-voom blood-red asymmetric halter gown that wrapped around the model’s neck in a buckle and slinked down her body with a slit across one hip.
The next model wore a tiara that read Boss Girl and a diamond Swarovski crystal suit—silver, slinky, and ultra-sexy with a jacket cut very low to reveal as much cleavage and collarbone as possible.
The last model who took the runway sported a tiara that read Bossy as she wore a strapless mini frock that featured a nude underdress covered with embellished, chain-mail-inspired detail. It was sexy and seductive, and it was paired with my favorite fuck-me red-bottomed heels.
And then the show ended all too soon. I could feel the pride in the studio. The looks, the lighting, the hair, the makeup, the nails, the girls, the styling—it all came together to tell the story of female empowerment—love, strength, and inclusion in the world—and I loved it all.
As the models took their final walk, the empowering version of the song “Run the World (Girls)” rang out, allowing the audience to soak up the final moments before it was time for me to go out on the runway to say thank you to everyone for coming and to take my bow.
I swayed over to the mirror to check my appearance. My diamond engagement ring and wedding band glinted while I adjusted my see-through blouse, which was from my collection. It flaunted my very round tummy in all its glory and also showed off a hint of cleavage. I’d teamed the blouse that featured a sheer panel down the front with black jeans and a long silver chain as well as large black-and-silver hoop earrings.
Giselle glanced down at my stilettos. “You know you’re going to have to stop wearing those things once you get further along.”
I frowned. “Oh, hell no. I’m rocking stilettos until they wheel me into the delivery room, and even then, I’ll demand to keep them on.” I waggled my eyebrows. “It’ll be a very kinky delivery indeed.” I blew her an air kiss, swaying past her.
The song, which championed womankind’s incredible ability to get shit done, still played as I showed my supermodel prowess, taking to the catwalk, strutting and waving at the crowd while flaunting my huge baby belly in the sheer lace blouse, which left nothing to do with my bump to the imagination.
I was overwhelmed by the thunderous applause and standing ovation from what turned out to be a large group of the most influential names in the New York fashion community. All of these incredible people whom I had so much respect for were there. I hadn’t imagined that sort of generosity and support until I experienced it. It was obviously a turning point in my career and definitely a great NYFW moment for me.
But it wasn’t until I looked at the front row seats and saw the people who meant everything in the world to me—Cisco, Jade, Ariana, Erika, Mitch, Zuri, and Core—clapping with huge smiles on their faces that the dam of happy tears burst, and they streamed down my cheeks.
There had been a lot of bumps in the road just to get here today, and I couldn’t help thinking briefly about Tabitha and if she’d have been here, celebrating my success, had circumstances been different. Not that I missed her or felt any guilt about the way Core had booted Tabitha out of New York with a little cash and a stern warning never to contact me again or come back to the city, or he’d take pleasure in giving the authorities all the evidence he’d collected about her shady dealings with her ex Vargos. And that was enough information to land her in jail for a very long time.
My world was complete now. I had friends—Cisco, Jade, Ariana, and Zuri—who loved me. My mother, Erika—along with my stepdad, Mitch—and I had built a close relationship even though it had taken months of work. And last but not least, Core, the love of my life, who loved and supported me as unconditionally as I did him.
The crowd quieted down when I started talking. “Thank you all for coming tonight. This truly means the world to me. Hugs and Sin Michaels.” I blew an air kiss to Cisco, Ariana, Jade, Erika, Mitch, and Zuri and then beckoned my sexy hubby Core over to the stage.
He stood up, kissing the precious bundle in his arms—our baby—before handing him over to Erika with a, “Go to Grandma,” order.
Erika clutched her grandson with a wide smile on her face as Core walked over to stand by my side, clutching my hand.
I couldn’t believe how much I’d grown emotionally. In the past, I’d decided relationships were too much trouble. It was the easy way out when every relationship had been a certifiable disaster. It was like quitting before I got fired. Up to the point when I’d met Core, however, each one had been too much work for not nearly enough in return. That was never the trouble with my husband, though. Even when it seemed impossible, the end game was always worth it. With Core, every bit of work was worthwhile.
I said to the crowd in a clear, loud voice, “Tonight was a dream come true, one that was made possible by the love and support of my friends, family, and my partner and husband, Core McKay. Together, this sexy man and I have created something strong, beautiful, and precious.”
I protectively placed a hand over my belly while looking over at my son cradled in Erika’s arms. With Core by my side, now I truly understood what it meant to unconditionally love and be loved. Now my world was complete because he had given me a reason to trust… and love.
I was almost close to tears, just thinking about how much he meant to me. In roughly three years’ time, I’d been able to open myself up to him enough to fall for him. I loved him… and that used to scare the shit out of me. Not now.
He turned me around to face him. I stared, mesmerized, as those delicious lips of his came nearer, finally settling across my mouth. He tilted his head to the side and slipped his tongue into my mouth. As soon as his tongue touched mine, I was lost, even right there on the runway. The man had no damn idea what he did to me.
Even after all these years, it was still hard for me to believe the life I now had. Every morning, I woke up by his side, and every night, I went to bed in his arms. Our relationship wasn’t perfect. It was perfectly imperfect.
Damn. I’ve finally found a man who loves me like he means it.
He pulled out of our kiss and drawled huskily, “I love you, Sinful.”
“And I love you, Core.” And I did with all of my heart because, every day, he showed me with actions and words just how much he loved me.
Even though the process of opening up to Core and love hadn’t been easy, I wouldn’t change a damn thing. Finding the love I deserved had proven to be the best thing to happen to me in a very long time.
He kissed my fingers before saying, “Now let’s go home, Mrs. McKay.”
Weaving his fingers through mine, he escorted me along the runway and toward the backstage as the cacophony of the crowd’s clapping, cheering, and whistling surrounded us.
A NOTE FROM SV:
I hope you enjoyed Twisted Lies 4!
If you want more alpha, bad-boy romance goodness, be sure to grab Mr. Billionaire Ceo.
Jayla was trouble, and she was just my type of woman.
I�
��d known I was damned when I watched her stroll into the office building her first day of work. In a matter of minutes, she’d shattered my control.
I’d been obsessed with her bombshell body since that day.
But I was her boss. So my fixation on her was totally inappropriate, especially when she hadn’t shown a bit of sexual interest in me—or so I’d thought… up until recently.
I was a Dom, and I sensed she was a natural submissive, albeit one who seemed inexperienced with men. My instincts told me that the right man could not only bring out her external beauty, but awaken her sexually as well.
Now that I’d set my sights on her, I wasn’t going to back down until I got what I wanted.
And as everyone in the office knew, I always got what I wanted.
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Sedona Venez is a romance author with a dirty mind. She lives in New York City with her hot ex-military hubby—hooah—and their furbabies. She loves writing sizzling, sexy, intricate stories about strong but broken characters who push limits, overcome their fears, and risk it all for love.
To learn more about Sedona Venez and her collection of contemporary and paranormal romance novels, visit her at www.sedonavenez.com.