Unbreakable

by Colette Davison

  “I wish I had my camera.” Russel knew he was whining, but it was a crying shame that he wasn’t allowed to take a photo of such a beautiful walking piece of art.

  “He looks ridiculous,” Mac muttered.

  “You have no sense of style.”

  Remy held his hands high and wide. “Welcome!” He dropped his hands to his sides as a chorus of polite applause rippled through the guests. “I won’t bore you with a long speech, but I just wanted to thank you all for coming and to tell you to have fun! Eat, drink, dance, and be merry!” He flung his arm out, gesturing grandly to the food and musicians with one huge wave of his arm.

  He was met with more exuberant applause. The musicians began to play as soon as the clapping died down, and after a few awkward moments, someone moved towards the food and drink.

  “I still think it’s weird that a single guy only invited couples,” Mac whispered as they waited in line for food.

  “Will you stop going on about that? He’s rich enough that he can afford to be as eccentric as he likes.”

  Mac smirked at him. “What’s your excuse?”

  Russel resisted the urge to stick his tongue out as he struggled to maintain a sense of decorum.

  “What’s this crap?”

  Russel looked at the food Mac was pointing at. “Hors d'oeuvres.”

  “They’re tiny, and what the fuck is the grey stuff?” Mac grimaced but picked a few up with large fingers and plonked them onto his white china plate.

  Russel rolled his eyes. If Mac didn’t completely embarrass him by the end of the night, he’d eat his boots.

  * * *

  7 Mac

  Mac was bored out of his fucking mind, although part of him admired how easily Russel could integrate himself into a conversation. With Mac on his arm, he would sidle up to a small group—either three or five people, never an even number—and start talking with the person who looked the most glassy-eyed. He talked about the party, about Remy, and about fashion. Within seconds, he seemed to have everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. Russel, Mac decided, was a guy who could probably sell ice to Eskimos. Mac, on the other hand, didn’t do small talk or ego stroking, so he kept his mouth shut unless someone directed a question at him. He wanted to leave or, if that wasn’t an option, find a quiet corner he could hide out in.

  “You two make such a darling couple,” one woman told them both. She was in her mid-fifties, with a silver screen, movie star air about her. “How did you meet?”

  “In a club.” Russel gave Mac a doe-eyed stare.

  Jesus, the guy was good at faking it.

  “I saw Mac, and it was love at first sight.”

  “How sweet. Have you been together long?”

  Russel squeezed Mac’s arm. “A few months.”

  “But it feels like a lifetime,” Mac muttered.

  Russel narrowed his eyes.

  “Because we’ve got to know each other so well,” Mac clarified quickly. “I couldn’t imagine my life without Russel.”

  “Aww, babe!” Russel fussed at Mac’s arm, looking genuinely emotional at Mac’s words.

  The woman clasped her hands together as her gaze roamed between them. “You’ll be getting married soon? Isn’t it fabulous that you people can get married now?”

  Mac stiffened and gritted his teeth, unsure which he was more pissed off at, her condescending tone or her startling lack of knowledge. “It’s called a civil partnership,” he muttered under his breath. “And yeah, it’s great if you don’t mind that half the world won’t recognise you’re a legal couple.”

  The woman stared at him, her mouth twitching as though she didn’t know what to say. Good. At least if she was silent, she wasn’t spouting crap.

  Russel shot him a wide-eyed look that was pleading and fleeting, before turning on the most charming smile Mac had ever seen. “It is fabulous. I’d love to tie the knot. I’m just waiting for Mac to pop the question.”

  “You asked me out first. I was assuming you’d ask me.”

  “Oh, how delightful!” The woman clapped her hands together. “Maybe we’ll have a proposal at the party!”

  “Oh no,” Russel said quickly. “We wouldn’t want to steal Remy’s thunder, would we, babe?”

  “Nope.” Mac was silently praying that the woman would move on and find another couple to torment.

  “Well, I think you’re perfect together.”

  “Oh!” Russel pointed towards the crowd of people who were chatting closer to the musicians. “There’s Eliza. Do you remember I was telling you about her, babe? Let me introduce you.” He smiled at the woman. “It’s been lovely talking to you.”

  She looked a little bewildered but smiled anyway. “And you. Come find me later?”

  “Oh, of course!” Russel gave her a small wave and then practically dragged Mac away.

  “Who’s Eliza?”

  “No one, silly. I could tell you were dying talking to that hag, so I thought you’d appreciate getting away from her.”

  Mac stared down at Russel. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He stopped once they were entrenched in the crowd, and turned to Mac, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the bigger man’s arm. “I know this isn’t your thing, and I’m really grateful you’re here, so it was the least I could do.”

  Mac almost reminded Russel that he was being paid to be here, but clamped his teeth together instead.

  Russel smoothed down Mac’s shirt with his fingers. “I’ve been getting lots of great sound bites for my article, so we probably won’t need to stay much longer.”

  “Are you recording the shit you’re talking about?” Mac definitely hadn’t seen Russel whip out a notebook at any stage.

  Russel smiled and tapped his temple. “I’m keeping it all up here.”

  “That doesn’t seem very reliable. You’ve spoken to literally dozens of people. How the fuck can you remember it all?

  Russel shrugged. “It’s a gift. I’ve got just a few more people to talk to, okay?”

  Mac nodded, frowning as Russel started scanning the crowd. “You haven’t spoken to the birthday boy.”

  “Remy?” Russel’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, he won’t talk to me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m just a reporter.”

  “And?”

  “And he’s the most important and influential person in the room. And the best dressed.”

  “Yeah, that’s debatable. Do you want to interview him?”

  Russel’s eyes widened. “Do I want to?” His lips quirked up and down as though he couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. “Of course I want to! But there’s no chance.”

  Mac looked around. The advantage of being one of the tallest people in the room was that it was easy for him to spot people. Including the revoltingly dressed Remy Lawrence.

  “There he is.” He threaded his fingers through Russel’s. “Come on.”

  “What?” Russel tried—and failed—to tug Mac back. “We can’t!”

  “Sure we can.” Mac towed Russel along behind him.

  Remy Lawrence was talking to another gay couple, who, Mac had to admit, were absolutely fucking gorgeous together. Unlike him and Russel, they were very similar in height and build. While he had no clue about fashion, even he could tell that they looked good in simple lines and plain, muted colours. As he pulled Russel up to the small group, they stopped talking and stared. The couple smiled warmly, but Remy’s expression was far more guarded. His thin lips were pinched together. The combination of a slim face, high cheekbones, and slender nose made Remy look almost gaunt. He had wavy brown hair, which was gelled back, and thick eyebrows that overshadowed dark, narrowed eyes.

  “Hi.” Mac grinned. “Sorry to butt in, but my boyfriend is a huge fan of your fashion style, Mr Lawrence, and he wanted to ask you a few questions. If you wouldn’t mind?”

  “I’m going to die,” Russel hissed quietly enough that only Mac could hear him.

  Mac’s grin grew w
ider as he pulled Russel forward. He dipped his lips to Russel’s ear. “Say hello.”

  “Hi!” Russel held his hand out to Remy. “I’m Russel, a reporter with Fashion Essence.”

  Mac didn’t miss how lightly and briefly Remy shook Russel’s hand; for some reason, it bothered him. Not that he did anything about it. This was Russel’s moment to get a scoop for his magazine, and Mac was damned if he was going to blow it.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Remy’s voice was smooth but disinterested.

  “I absolutely adore your outfit. Is it Gucci?”

  Remy shook his head and gave the slightest eye roll. “I have a private designer.”

  “Oh, really?” Russel’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Does that mean we might see a fashion collection with your name on it soon?”

  Without answering the question, Remy’s stare shifted to Mac. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

  Mac tried not to squirm under the intensity of the man’s gaze. “Mac.”

  When Remy shook his hand, it was firm. It was Mac who broke the handshake.

  “How long have you been together?”

  Although Remy glanced at Russel, Mac could tell the question was aimed at him.

  “A few months.”

  “I asked him out,” Russel said, resting his head against Mac’s arm. “Isn’t my big man gorgeous?”

  Remy narrowed his eyes in a way that reminded Mac of a predator. “Yes, he is.” He turned his attention back to Russel. “You said you write for Fashion Essence?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “How would you like an exclusive interview?”

  Mac thought Russel was going to explode when he suppressed a high-pitched squeal.

  “An… interview? Exclusive? That would be wonderful!” Russel looked up at Mac. “Mr Lawrence doesn’t normally grant interviews.”

  Remy clasped his hands behind his back. “That’s true, but sometimes I make exceptions.” His gaze flicked back to Mac briefly. “Come for lunch tomorrow, and I’ll show you all the clothes that Sebastian has made for me.”

  “I’m sorry. Sebastian? Do you mean Sebastian Garrington?”

  Mac had no clue who Russel was talking about, but from the awe in the man’s voice, it had to be someone important in the fashion world.

  “The one and only,” Remy replied.

  Russel frowned. “I thought he’d retired?”

  “He has.” Remy’s mouth curled into a slight smile. “He only designs clothes for me now. Lunch? Tomorrow?”

  “Lunch? I… thought we’d talk here.”

  Remy shook his head. “It’s too noisy for an interview. Besides, I prefer a more relaxed setting when I grant interviews.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.”

  Mac wondered if Russel could be any more amenable to Remy’s whims. If the man clicked his fingers, how high would Russel jump?

  “Good. Now, if you’d excuse me, I have lots of guests to mingle with.” Remy smiled politely at them and the other couple he’d been talking to but completely ignored since Mac and Russel’s arrival. He took two steps and then stopped and pivoted on his foot. “Bring Mac.” His words were casual, as though it was an afterthought, but the way his gaze settled on Mac felt deliberate. Then he walked away, not waiting for either of them to either agree or disagree.

  Russel turned to Mac and moved his weight from foot to foot in a happy dance. “Oh. My. God! Did you see what just happened?”

  Mac grunted an affirmation. He wasn’t entirely sure he’d seen the same thing Russel had.

  “Oh my God! Thank you so much for making me walk up to him!” Russel flung his arms around Mac. “I’d never have had the confidence to do that, but you… Well… You’re amazing!”

  Aware that people were staring at them, Mac returned Russel’s embrace; they were meant to be a couple after all. “It’s a great opportunity. I’m pleased for you.” He patted Russel’s back awkwardly and then let go.

  “My editor is going to go wild!” Russel looked up at Mac with pleading eyes. “You’ll come tomorrow, won’t you?”

  Mac rubbed the back of his neck. This was supposed to have been a one-time thing. Pretend to be Russel’s boyfriend at a boring party, take the money, and probably never see each other again. He needed to say no, but something told him that if Russel turned up tomorrow without him in tow, Remy would be pissed, and there would be no interview.

  “This means a lot to you, doesn’t it?”

  Russel nodded. “With a scoop like this, there’s no way my editor couldn’t take my request to become a reporter seriously.” He clasped his hands together. “Please?” He mouthed his next words so no one else could overhear. “I’ll pay you.”

  Mac sighed. “Sure, I’ll come.” He realised he didn’t give a shit about extra money, but he wasn’t going to turn the offer down either.

  Russel jumped up and down a couple of times and then wrapped his arms around Mac’s neck before planting a noisy kiss on his cheek. “You are the best!”

  8 Russel

  “You’ve got an interview with Remy Lawrence?” The disbelief in Gerald’s voice made Russel cringe.

  “Yes.” Why was that so hard to believe?

  “Huh. Well, don’t blow it, and I want it on my desk first thing Monday morning.”

  Russel pulled his phone away from his ear and flipped his finger at it, glad his boss couldn’t see the action. That would give him barely any time to write it up and make it fabulous. “Sure thing.” He hung up before Gerald could get another word in.

  He’d already been up since before dawn, writing up his article. As soon as he’d got home the previous night, he’d written down all the names of the people he’d spoken with—the important ones anyway—and the things they’d said. Okay, so it would have been better if he’d had a notepad and pen with him, but that would have ruined his look. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake today. Oh no. He was going to go prepared.

  Before putting his phone aside so he could carry on with his article, he sent Mac a quick message.

  Are you still on for lunch? He put the phone down but picked it up almost instantly. And don’t forget to tell me how much I owe you!

  He stared at his laptop screen, finding it hard to concentrate on writing when he was going to be having lunch with Remy Lawrence. It was just inconceivable that he could have an exclusive interview with such a fashion icon. He would have to look his best. His stomach sank. What would Mac turn up wearing? Faded jeans and a death metal T-shirt? He grabbed his phone again, wondering if he should suggest another shopping trip. Instead, he took a few deep breaths and put his phone back down. Dressing Mac up for a posh party was one thing, but the gorgeous man wasn’t a dress-up doll, and Russel knew he had no right to try to change how he dressed, even if he was trying to impress Remy.

  Russel’s phone vibrated, and he smiled when he saw Mac’s name flash up.

  I’m good for lunch.

  Grinning, Russel sent a quick reply. Awesome!

  He went back to his article, although he wondered whether or not Gerald would even care about this one. Still, it was all good practise. He put his fingers on the keyboard and forced himself to type.

  Another text came about an hour later, when Russel’s brain was starting to implode and his butt cheeks were going numb.

  What should I wear?

  Picking up the phone, Russel stood and stepped away from the computer. He’d made good progress on his article, making it witty and funny as he focused on the fashion wins and disasters of the evening. He made sure not to be cruel about the disasters, like some fashion reporters could be. In fact, he made suggestions on what little changes would have turned them from tragedies to grand overtures. He’d also started picking out the best pictures. The advantage of being the writer and the layout guy was that he would get to make the finished article look absolutely fabulous splashed across a double-page spread of the magazine, assuming Gerald gave him that much space.

  He sto
od by the window, looking down into the shared garden as he tapped his phone thoughtfully against his lips. Mac had given him an opportunity to call the shots when it came to his outfit, so why was he hesitating? From what he’d seen on their shopping trip the day before, Mac was clueless when it came to how to dress. Yet he’d looked pretty hot in his well-worn T-shirt and jeans.

  Whatever you want to wear, Big Guy.

  Seriously?

  Russel smiled at the screen.

  You’re going to talk fashion, and you’re trusting me to choose my own fucking outfit?

  Russel laughed. Mac was definitely a fan of the F-bomb. Without replying, he slipped his phone into his back pocket and padded through to his kitchen to make himself a healthy smoothie.

  He was halfway through filling the mixer up with frozen mixed berries, spinach, and yoghurt when another message vibrated the phone in his pocket. Mac had sent him a photo of his proposed outfit. Bless him, he’d tried. He’d laid out the trousers he’d worn the night before and a completely plain red T-shirt.

  That doesn’t look very ‘you’.

  Yeah, well, pretending to be your boyfriend isn’t very ‘me’.

  Russel wasn’t sure why Mac’s text made his chest feel heavy. What’s that supposed to mean?

  He stared at his phone for a few seconds, but when no text came through, he put it down and finished making his smoothie. The loud rumble of the mixer was weirdly grounding. He poured the hideously coloured concoction into a tall glass and began to gulp it down. It was honestly the best way to get through the whole thing. Another text disturbed him, or saved him, from downing the whole thing.

  Just tell me what to wear?

  It was so tempting to do exactly that. Mac’s desire to be given instructions was also intriguing. Was it out of insecurity about his choice in clothes because he wanted to look the part, or something else… Not that it mattered. Russel wasn’t going to get a chance to puzzle Mac out. After lunch with Remy, they’d probably never see each other again. He wasn’t sure why that thought left him with a slightly queasy stomach.