Exposed (10 page)

The cool ice cream wasn’t even that bad on a chilly morning. It was warming up, the sun burning off the mist and clouds and soaking into his bones.

He leaned next to Briar, careful to only rest his arms against the brick wall so he didn’t have to dry-clean the rest of his clothes later.

It took him just another minute to finish off the sandwich, he’d been so hungry. The intense sweetness of cookies and ice cream made him almost dizzy after a week of scarce and healthy foods.

“Good, isn’t it?” Briar was licking his fingers.

Gabriel’s gaze fell to the spot of ice cream on Briar’s lip. Unfortunately, Briar swiped it off with his tongue, stealing the chance from Gabriel to be…

Romantic?

Fuck, no. This couldn’t turn into something like
that
. They were just hanging out as friends—or boss and his favorite new employee.

Gabriel found a can to toss his trash into, then returned to Briar’s side, leaning against the brick.

“Look, there’s a boat,” Briar pointed out. “We can watch.”

Gabriel’s eyes sharpened with interest as he watched the crew work on the boat. They maneuvered the narrowboat into the box, then shut the doors and drained it. In his ear, Briar murmured quiet explanations of the principles at work.

“Huh,” Gabriel murmured, watching the boat sink in its little stone and metal prison. When it was all the way down, the doors swung open. “And people just go around doing that?”

Briar laughed. “Not as a commute, but yeah, some people do live on boats.”

“Like in California, only they do that on the ocean.”

“Yeah.” Briar pushed himself away from the wall again and slid his arm around Gabriel’s shoulder. “You know, not everything compares to the US.”

“Ohhh, like you’re not American, too,” Gabriel scoffed.

“I have dual citizenship.”

“What?” Gabriel exclaimed. “Wait, how?”

“One of my parents was British. I spent some time here. And they like giving passports to guys like me. It’s useful, for business purposes.”

Oh.
Gabriel rubbed his chin, then nodded. “Cool. I forget how billionaires and shit live sometimes.”

“Don’t say that. You might be, too, someday soon.”

Gabriel’s jaw nearly dropped for the second time in under a minute. He wasn’t correcting him. Holy shit,
was
he that rich? In any case, Briar had millions.

And he thought
Gabe
was good enough to be one, too?

Fuck, yes. His career was looking up.

They went for noodles after that, talking idly about their favorite moments from the past week. Briar had attended most of the shows—some womenswear, as well as menswear—and had opinions on everyone. He didn’t share most of them directly, but he was able to subtly convey his less-than-impressed thoughts on some models with his expressions.

Gabriel found it hilarious. Briar had done so well as a model from his classically blank, beautiful model pout, but there was so much life in his face. He just usually kept it hidden behind his CEO persona.

By the time they walked back toward the tube station, their hands were brushing each time they swung their arms, and neither of them was pulling back from the touch.

Gabriel almost dreaded the return to reality—the shuttle ride, then the flight to New York City, and its grungy, familiar streets.

Nothing was going to be the same anymore.

“
W
e’d be delighted
to hire your guys.”

Briar jerked his head in a quick nod, like he’d expected nothing less. This was one of the top menswear designers in the
world
, and he was collaborating with one of his first fashion school friends in a world premier, and he wanted
them
.

Exposed couldn’t go much higher.

It was such a first-world problem—being so good that there wasn’t much room for upward growth.

“On one condition: we don’t want that guy,” Declan pushed aside one of the comp cards. “We want Gabriel Hunter.”

“Vince can get in touch about his requirements,” Briar told Declan smoothly, glancing between him and Fabio. The other man didn’t quite live up to his namesake, but he was equally renowned for his skill behind the scenes.

“He killed it in London. We have to have him in Paris.”

“We have him booked for several runway shows, three catalogs, some public appearances…” Briar trailed off. “He’s in the middle of another show right now.”

“We can pay extra.”

“Vince?”

Vince took over negotiations as Briar leaned back, folding his arms as he watched them duke it out. Vince wasn’t going to be able to keep a hold of Gabriel much longer. He was going to be recruited for their top talent department soon—Noel was champing at the bit to represent Gabriel now.

And having Gabriel was helping them, too.

Briar heard the whispers: that Exposed was powerful enough to pick talent off the street and give them a superstar career within a New York City minute. That was more or less what had happened already, and it was having a ripple effect.

Marketing was losing their mind over the best way to exploit this. Briar hadn’t had so many back-to-back meetings with important people in the industry in
years
.

“Can we get back to you tonight on that?”

Vince hummed skeptically and looked at Briar.

Briar knew what to do. He shook his head. “I’m meeting the editors at Undressed tonight.” The premier menswear magazine had a centerfold of male models down to their underwear along with photos of them fully-dressed, showing the versatility of their sponsoring underwear brands. No leg lines, yadda yadda.

It was his job to sell them on Gabriel, too, and he had a feeling it would be an easy sell.

“Fine. We’ll take him.”

“Now, let’s talk about Paris.”

Briar folded his hands and leaned in, waiting to see what they had to say. No matter what they proposed, he sensed an exclusive representation deal in the works.

He wanted every single model on the runway for Declan and Fabio in Paris, the final of the four big fashion weeks, to be one of his Exposed guys. He wanted to
sweep
the damn runway this year.

Now that everyone was desperate to have him, Gabriel was Briar’s carrot and his stick.

“
Y
ou’ve got
another show on Friday night.”

Gabriel nodded, fidgeting with the buttons on his crisp linen shirt. He wasn’t convinced about it, but Julius wanted him to wear only Fabio this month… in public, at parties, anywhere that wasn’t alone in his bedroom.

Probably even then.

That was a small price to pay for the size and frequency of the paychecks that were rolling in. Sure, he had to work his ass off for them, but the work gradually grew easier.

Now that he wasn’t stressing about having to fit in, he was able to rely on his own natural talent to carry him. He didn’t spend hours before every show practicing walking up and down the hallway until Sandra yelled at him.

Christ, with the money he was making, he could afford to move out, but Sandra was quicker and better than anyone at fitting his new clothes, and he was getting a lot of them these days. Gifts from designers, magazine editors, even other models who wanted his friendship or public recommendations.

Hell, he was getting emails from people offering him money to like their posts or follow them on Instagram. He’d been getting hundreds of followers every week, and even his posts about coffee were getting a lot of likes.

While he listened to his manager, Gabriel pulled out his phone to scroll through his notifications.

Lots of
killing it!
and
sexy baby
kinds of comments. Some who addressed him by name like they knew him, congratulating him on last week’s killer collection, or for the ad campaign shoot he’d done for Fabio and Declan a few days ago. Milan was full of opportunities being offered to him on a golden platter.

The campaign images weren’t even up yet, but somehow, people had learned about their existence. One had been leaked onto a fashion news site, and the internet was
losing its shit
over him.

Even people walking down the street recognized him, even if they didn’t know from where. He was booked just after Paris for a
huge
name-brand cologne. That would put him on subway walls and buses, TVs and billboards.

Julius had warned him things were about to go
crazy
for him.

Gabriel adjusted his hair, making a face as Charlie walked in. Time for another argument about which shade of lip gloss to choose.

Charlie wanted him dressed up like a damn nineteen-year-old, all fresh-faced and fair, but Vince wanted him to become people’s mental image of the sophisticated twenty-five-year-old in the city.

“I hope you’re not gonna make me look underaged again,” Gabriel clicked his tongue, then glanced back at Julius. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Tonight’s going to be intense. We need you to stick around for a couple interviews. Now that word’s gotten out about you…”

Gabriel nodded carelessly and Julius sighed with relief. “I can stick around for an hour or two. I’ve got a cocktail party tonight.”

“With whom?” Julius took out his phone to make notes. “Anyone we need you talking to?”

“Vince wants me connecting with Paulo again after we bonded in London. He thinks he could introduce me to the London suit-maker Paulo promotes. Apparently his contract’s almost up and they’re looking for his replacement.”

“Right, them. So tonight you’re making friends with Paulo? I think he’ll be desperate to make friends with
you
,” Julius grinned.

Gabriel smirked. Julius was right: he should be. Gabriel’s name was on everyone’s lips right now.

“You killed it last night, darling,” Charlie added, primping his hair. “We’ll do the exact same tonight.”

“Who else is here tonight?” Gabriel asked, fidgeting with his fingers until Charlie stilled his hands. Then he started tapping his toes. God, makeup was his least favorite part of it. Most of his peers took the time to bitch about each other, but he knew better than
that
.

Sometimes he really wanted to, though. He saved that for Sandra, when he was home in those rare hours between shows, parties, and events. Sandra was pretty tolerant of his complaints, even if she sometimes told him to get over it. He appreciated being told that on occasion, though.

“Hans, the German we just signed,” Julius told him. “And Adam, of course.”

Gabriel made a face, nearly making Charlie smear his makeup. “If he doesn’t trip his way into the audience someday…”

“Oh, God.” Julius touched wood—the makeup counter—and looked almost faint at the thought. “He never has.”

But of all people Gabriel would vote most likely to do so, Adam was the top of the list. Not that he’d talk badly about him to his face. He was okay enough, as a person. He just wasn’t the most professional person out there.

Julius squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll see you out there, hm?”

Gabriel nodded, then closed his eyes to let Charlie finish his makeup before he got so restless he had to walk around.

Tonight, it wasn’t the biggest event he’d done, but he’d treat it like any other. One never knew who was watching and waiting to hire him.

He’d show them all. He’d show them the best damn show they’d ever seen.

“
H
ome again
,” Briar sighed to himself as he unlocked the front door. He didn’t quite know why, but sometimes he talked to himself on those rare moments when he was home alone and not entertaining VIPs.

Probably because it made it a little less weird and lonely.

He had a penthouse overlooking the best views of the city, a huge bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows, all the luxuries he’d ever dreamed of while working his way up as a model one scrap at a time…

But he didn’t have anyone to share it with anymore.

As much as he loathed Austin now, he missed him in some ways because of the holes he’d left in his domestic life.

The dishes he’d picked were all gone. The photos Austin had put up of the two of them—the lies designed to make him think they had more of a bond than they really had—they were gone. Hell, the little homey touches like outdoor living magazines amongst the fashion spreads on the coffee table—they were gone, too.

“It’s not like I
mind
a model apartment. Showroom style never gets old.”

Not quite true—Briar had someone in every two years or so to redo the apartment in more modern textures and finishings, but the changes were always gradual.

He uncorked a bottle of wine to pour himself a glass, then checked his fridge. The chef stopped by every week to freeze or refrigerate a week’s worth of meals for him to eat at his leisure, which worked much better than trying to coordinate his visits with Briar being home.

“Asparagus risotto and glazed tofu steaks? Oh, yeah,” Briar approved, taking out the dish and popping it into the oven to follow the cooking directions.

While he waited for it to heat up, Briar checked his phone. The party tonight was going to be insane. It was some celebration of an anniversary issue of some magazine. Someone had told him there was more than booze passed around now between the models and professionals.

He didn’t know if that meant sex or drugs, but either way, he was fine saying no. Neither was his style.

“Oh, but there’ll be drama tonight.” Briar grinned to himself at the kind of antics that tended to crop up toward the end of any night out, then refilled his wine glass.

Then, he plugged his phone into the house speakers to give himself a background soundtrack for his supper: classical music. He heard enough thumping pop and runway music as part of his job.

He hummed along to it, swaying on the spot as he tried to ignore the memory of Austin’s arms slipping around his waist from behind, Austin’s head on his shoulder as they waited for dinner to heat up.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight.”

In reality, Briar had no trouble getting offers… he was just picky about which ones he accepted.

He took his plate out of the oven and caught himself wondering whether Gabriel liked asparagus.

* * *

“
Y
ou should have seen
this guy when
he
was your age.”

Briar shoved Vince, then tried to take his cocktail away. “I think you’ve had
quite enough
to drink if you’re going to tell old stories…”

Vince laughed, holding it up and away from Briar. He didn’t remember to account for the fact that Briar was taller—Vince had never been tall enough to walk the runway himself.

Briar plucked the drink out of his hand, then sipped it before handing it back. “Fine. But don’t talk like I’m
decades
older.”

Vince was grinning at Jon, one of the models Briar was ambivalent about. He had natural flair, but once he was done on the runway, Briar wasn’t convinced he’d adapt well to print.

Gabriel was already there, but his career so far was one of those rare, sudden success stories. Most models had to work their way up from the new faces department, one job at a time.

“It seems so long ago now that you were anywhere close to us,” Jon admitted with a laugh. “It just feels like I’m cobbling together jobs sometimes.”

Briar nodded. “That’s quite normal.”

“Mmhmm.” Vince smiled. “Just as long as you don’t screw up in terms of, you know… PR gaffes, or doing a really bad job at a show sometime… you don’t have to worry. You’ve got a classic bone structure. It’s always gonna be in demand.”

Jon rubbed the back of his neck, sidling this way and that for a moment. “Thanks.” His eyes lit upon Briar. “Could I ask you more about your career? Just for… you know, mentoring purposes?”

“Aw, go mentor our boys,” Vince teased and pushed Briar at Jon. “Go mentor your drink first, though.”

Briar laughed and took Jon to the bar to get a drink for each of them, then found a table. “What did you want to know?”

“Well… basically…” Jon fidgeted with his glass, then cleared his throat. “Gabriel’s pretty new, right?”

“Yeah?”

“But he’s… suddenly big. Why can’t that happen to me? What do I have to do?”

Briar pressed his chin to his fist, leaning back in thought. “Some guys orchestrate it… you know, make up some big news to announce about themselves. Coming out doesn’t work anymore, obviously.”

“Right,” Jon chuckled.

“Some guys build their own following online to get more attention. Instagram, you know the drill.”

Briar itched to check Gabriel’s feed. It had been filled with photos of Milan. With back-to-back fashion weeks it hadn’t actually been that long since London, but fuck, it felt like forever.

Briar was flying back for the final day in Milan before they all headed back here, then to Paris for the last of these hell weeks. And then back to New York City for the cologne commercial.

Maybe he could see him somewhere in all that.

“Right. I do that,” Jon nodded.

“There’s no substitute for good old-fashioned work,” Briar shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Just… one word of advice. Never base your self-esteem on how much you’re working. That goes for any creative industry, but especially one like this.”

Jon nodded again, then scooted his chair closer, reaching across the table to run a hand along Briar’s arm up to his wrist, then over the back of his hand.

Briar barely resisted the urge to draw his hand back. He just raised his gaze to Jon’s, watching him closely.

Is he…? Almost certainly.

“I appreciate your advice,” Jon murmured. “It’s easy to feel like you just need to be five pounds skinnier, or two inches taller, or…”

Briar shook his head firmly, easing his hand away to pick up his glass and finish his whisky. “Never think that way. They want you bad enough, they won’t care how many inches they take in or let out your hems.”

Jon hummed, then leaned in. “As long as you’re hot enough, right?”

“As long as you’re hot enough,” Briar chuckled quietly, taking in Jon’s face. He
was
pretty: razor-sharp cheekbones, perfectly swollen lips, the kind of light green eyes you could lose yourself in, long lashes, wavy blond hair…

Gorgeous enough for Exposed’s roster, or for Briar’s bed. So why didn’t he want to take Jon there?

Jon leaned in just a bit more. “What about… sleeping your way to the top?”

Briar almost winced, but instead, he managed a chuckle. “I got lucky and I didn’t do that. Some guys do.”

“Is there an opportunity?”

“Not at Exposed.”

Jon’s gaze, which had been fixed on Briar’s face for the whole conversation, dropped to the table. He flinched and pulled back, quickly grabbing the stem of his drink again and sipping it. “Right.”

To ease the embarrassment, Briar added, “You’re gorgeous, you look and walk the part… pay attention to everything Julius and Vince tell you, learn or study whatever or whoever they tell you to, and we’ll do
everything
we can to help you.”

“Right. Sorry. I guess I was just jealous,” Jon murmured, finally glancing up at Briar again.

Briar nodded. “It’s hard not to be, but hang in there. No agency can survive on the talents of one model alone. Models come and go, but a steady hard worker? Indispensable. You’re almost moving up to the runway department now, Julius told me.”

“I am?” That news seemed to brighten Jon’s day as he pushed back his empty glass and rose to his feet. “Thanks. That means a lot.”

Briar pulled Jon in for a one-armed hug, his arm firmly around Jon’s waist and no lower, and kissed his cheek. “Keep rocking it, honey. You’ll do fine.”

As he made his way back to Vince, Briar slipped his phone out to send Gabriel a quick text.

Sure, Briar could find out from Julius, but he’d get one hell of a raised eyebrow. Trying not to feel like he was skirting behind everyone’s backs, he rejoined the group.

“Mentored him up?” Vince teased, and it was easy to tell what he was thinking:
meeting him later?
Not that Briar could blame him; that had been his MO for the last few months. And, or so he’d planned, for the next few years.

Now, though?

Things were different, and he wasn’t sure why.