Exposed (3 page)

E
very day
at work felt about the same—meetings, reports, industry analysis, scrambling to touch base with designers for the next fashion weeks, dissecting new faces and making sure all the department heads were on track with Briar’s vision of the company…

The only difference today was Gabriel. He’d been in yesterday for HR to have their turn with him, but he hadn’t sucked Dayne’s dick for the privilege of being hired, like a lot of new hires would.

He’d walked into the office looking for all the world like he owned the place, his head high as he met the other assistants.

That didn’t bode well for Gabriel. He was going to need their help to integrate. This was going to be a shit show, but it would be pretty funny to watch. Maybe he’d smarten up and learn to be gracious to those who’d already made it. Maybe not. If not, at least he provided eye candy.

Briar leaned back in his office chair, his feet up on the desk as he clicked through the photos Markie Adam’s team had sent of their winter collection. In between photos, he glanced up, watching Gabriel set up his desk with stationery.

Shit, this collection was ugly. Even models as hot as theirs couldn’t make it look elegant.

They had to go the other direction, then.

Briar opened up an email, then hummed and glanced up at the doorway. He was supposed to be training Gabriel. He should probably do that.

“Gabe.”

Gabriel pushed himself to his feet and swayed over toward him, resting one bony hip against the frame. “Mhmm?”

He was dressed casually in a good print t-shirt—the kind Briar liked, not the hideous art prints or slogans that tried to whack casual onlookers over the head with their hints of the wearer’s personality. Over that, he’d layered a draping grey shawl sweater, and he wore dark grey jeans.

Gabriel’s lips were pinker than yesterday. Was he wearing gloss? It was a good shade.

“Come here. You’ve been set up to access my email account, right?”

Gabriel had that tone nailed—the disinterested, yet knowledgeable one. Like he couldn’t be bothered to care, but he knew what he was doing. “I think so.”

“Good. Come show me what you’d do with this email.”

Briar watched Gabriel’s lips purse, and then Gabriel walked toward him. He rolled just out of the way, but not too far away, as Gabriel squeezed beside him and leaned down to read the screen.

Briar snuck a glance at that gorgeous ass, then watched his face instead.

Gabriel’s lips were pursed again, his brows drawing together as he paged through the photos, then read the email.

“I’d place it gently in 1999, where denim jackets belong, and light it on fire.”

Briar was caught off-guard by the short, sharp laugh that bubbled from his chest. Gabe’s opinion was refreshingly honest. “And then?”

Gabe sighed, as if pressed, then cast his eyes around in thought. Briar could see the gears in his brain turning, though. Then, Gabriel decided, “Contact the appropriate model department and see what comp cards they have to send out. Maybe the new faces, too. Do we have an unusual faces department?”

Briar smirked, folding his arms as he leaned back in his seat and peered up at Gabriel. “Why?”

“Classic beauties won’t save this one. A weird face, maybe an androgynous look… make it artsy. Anything can be art. Thank God for them.”

“And if I told you this was a friend of mine?” Briar said, his tone just slightly chastising.

Gabriel seemed unmoved. “Then your friends have a keen eye on possible vintage trends, but I expected your friends to be a little more… contemporary.”

“Mmm. Type up an email for me, then.”

Gabriel worked his jaw back and forth for a moment, then bent over to type a few quick lines.

No horrific typos, at least. His grammar was proper, and he was a quick typist. Briar could live with that.

So far, this was the most useful thing he’d done in two days, and only when pressed directly, though.

Just before Briar finished suggesting additions to the email—like emailing the right person, not the payroll manager with the same first name—the phone rang.

Gabriel picked up for him with a casual, “Hello?”

Briar waited.

Gabriel straightened up, cutting his gaze sideways to Briar. Now he looked worried, his brow pinching. “You’d better.” He hung up and pushed away from the computer.

Before Briar could ask, Julius was striding into the office. The new faces manager handled a lot of shit, but even he looked pissed beyond belief right now.

This had to be good. Briar raised his eyebrows and stood up. “Hey, Jules. What happened?”

“This fucking… Jesus.” Julius pushed the office door shut behind him, glaring at it when it softly clicked instead of slamming. Then, he looked at Briar and seemed to notice Gabriel.

He took a breath and let it out.

“The test shoot with the guy from San Diego went south.”

“Did he walk out?” It wasn’t unusual, but it was the ultimate diva move. Incredibly ballsy for a new face, especially one Briar hadn’t been sold on the decision to test out anyway.

“Yep.”

“Waste of a good photographer. Who’s it today?”

“Hayes.”

Briar whistled lowly. Hayes shot primarily black and white images. He had a stellar eye for them. Some models just didn’t look good in full color—Hayes could save them.

And some guys who looked great in color looked just as stunning in black and white. It was a rare face that couldn’t benefit from a touch of classic aesthetic.

“He still here?”

“Yeah, and Vince is pissed now. He wants someone else in our ex-new face’s place.”

New York City, Paris, Milan, London… all of the big cities had their own fashion weeks, and it was about to be harvest day for modeling agencies. Every designer needed bodies to put their clothes onto, and pretty faces that could pout at a camera.

It took time to train the new hires, though, and it always took a few shots before they knew whether a guy would be great on a runway or better suited to advertising or some other department.

Briar cut a sideways glance at Gabriel, who was closely watching them. His face betrayed an interest that he quickly hid behind that same detached expression when he noticed Briar looking at him.

He didn’t have time for this shit. He had a meeting in ten minutes with Markie’s team, and fuck knows what he was going to tell them. Probably something like Gabriel had told him, actually.

“Give this guy a try.” Briar jerked a thumb carelessly at Gabriel. “He’s not doing anything I can’t.”

Gabriel shifted from one foot to the other, looking at him, then Julius.

Julius studied Gabriel closely, his eyes raking up and down his body before he looked at his face again.

Briar knew Julius was fine with what he saw, or he would have turned him down on the spot. He just didn’t want the guy to get cocky.

Too late for that.

Gabriel’s chin raised, his thumb hooked into his pocket.

A long-suffering expression passed over Julius’s face, but then he raised his shoulders in a sharp shrug. “Fine. Follow me.”

Gabriel didn’t look back at Briar, following Julius in quick, purposeful strides. He never lost the lazy, graceful strut to his step, though.

He
would
fit right in on the runway.

Briar pushed his lip around as he watched the two walk off, then picked up the phone to ask the new faces department for some suggestions before Markie arrived. He was always fifteen minutes late, anyway. Briar had time to plan his pitch.

J
esus
, it was only his second day in the office and he was expected to be helpful? Even if Gabriel
had
had the experience he’d claimed, surely it would have taken longer just to settle in.

Briar had sent him off to model without a second thought. Maybe Jordan hadn’t been sucking up to him just to get his money.

He
was
a good model.

Gabriel had always known he had the right attitude, that he could learn to pose and move like the best of them, but the look? That was intangible, impossible to fairly assess when he knew his own face better than any stupid photographer.

This guy was a real asshole. Gabriel was starting to see why he’d driven the last model off.

“Move that way.”

The layered t-shirt under a long-sleeved cotton button-up shirt was comfortable, but the jeans Julius had quickly chosen for him with agreement from two other guys fussing over his hair and face… they were a little tighter than he was used to.

Gabriel didn’t mind showing off his package, but he wasn’t going to be able to move his hip the way Hayes was telling him to.

“Just move your foot backward.”

“I
can’t
.” Gabriel had another condition he hadn’t told anyone about: he didn’t have a name for it, but his joints were oddly flexible and sometimes loose. If he moved his foot any further back, with the tight pressure around his hipbone, it was going to pop his hip right out of place.

The flexibility was nice, but dislocating a hip fucking sucked.

Unless it was for a really great lay, and Hayes was nothing like that.

“I can’t photograph you if you won’t do what I tell you to.”

Hayes was a short, stocky guy—the kind of generic-looking ugly-ass dude they hired for “str8 boy” porn. He sweated under the intense light shining into Gabriel’s face from one side, and he had a twitchy hand around his camera body.

And he refused to touch Gabriel, like the gay would wipe off on him. Gabriel disliked him on principle.

Gabriel made a point of brushing against Hayes, moving into his hand when he moved his arm around or tried to pull him into another angle.

Every time, Hayes’ lip would curl or he’d pull back like he’d been jolted. Once, he wiped his hand off on his jeans.

For that alone, Gabriel was going to be a real asshole now.

“Fine, then turn that way.”

“Which way?”

“
That
way.”

Gabriel turned the wrong way, tilting his head at a damn good angle. It would look better than the angle Hayes had asked for.

Hayes saw what he’d done. Instead of swallowing his pride and taking the photo being offered to him on a silver platter, he snorted and stepped forward. No doubt he was going to shove Gabriel the other way.

Jesus. It hadn’t just been Jordan fond of pushing guys around, then. Gabriel pulled his arm away from Hayes’s grip before he could grab it, glaring at him, then turned away from him to let him get the shot he wanted. He turned his toes in, though.

“Foot out.”

He moved his foot a few inches over.

“
Toes
out. Briar, sort out your shitty models before I come in next.”

“Of course.” That was Briar’s smooth voice, but he didn’t sound the slightest bit miffed… or even apologetic.

Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, resisting the temptation to moon Hayes instead. He shifted his toes out, staring straight into the camera with hooded eyes as he braced his hands on the box in front of him. His shirt was riding up his back, exposing his smooth lower back.

Even without a day’s professional experience—in an agency, rather than a pro’s living room with his boyfriend watching from the couch like a jealous gargoyle—he was fucking better than this Hayes guy.

Gabriel was a lot better than they all wanted to admit. Too bad for them. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. He’d spent hours looking in the mirror, practicing his angles, learning his face and body and the way he could move them both to seduce the camera.

He’d just never thought the industry would agree with his assessment of himself as both extremely fuckable and photogenic. Jordan’s words still rang in his ears.

I was only humoring you.

Now that he’d had the goddamn CEO of Exposed tell him he should be on a runway? And watching him in front of the camera?

His ego had never swollen more, and he’d damn well earned it.

Hayes was done. He growled, “I can’t deal with this shit.”

Gabriel put on a concerned, clueless expression and cocked his head, turning to face everyone instead. His eyes slowly adjusted from the bright light to the shadows around the edge of the room.

“This cocky little shit won’t give me anything useful. I’m done today, Briar.
If
I got anything useful, I’ll send you what I’ve got.”

There was a quiet scoff as Julius, the guy Gabriel gathered was in charge of new faces, rubbed his face and pushed open the door to the studio to hold it for Hayes.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Briar told them both. “Julius, make some calls. I’m sure we can find someone to come in.”

Hayes scoffed at the news that he was being replaced. “And good luck to him.” He stormed out through the door, still clutching his camera like he was bringing it to the principal’s attention.

Gabriel kicked out a foot and sat on the box, spreading his hands out behind himself.

“Coming?” That was Julius, to Briar.

But Briar’s eyes were fixed on Gabriel. “No. I need a word with Gabe here. Can you give us a photographer…” He trailed off, glancing at his watch. “In thirty minutes?”

“Thirty?” Julius’s shoulders sank with relief. “Yeah, I can do thirty. I was expecting fifteen. I could maybe do—”

“I think we all need to cool off,” Briar told him firmly. “Thirty.”

Footsteps echoed from nearby as the two guys from earlier who’d helped Julius with Gabriel’s hair and makeup and wardrobe overheard and obeyed, leaving them in silence.

The door swung shut behind the last of them, and then Briar was walking slowly across the backdrop draped along the floor. His shiny shoes clicked against the paper.

Gabriel’s heart pounded. He stayed where he was, sprawled on the box.

“You’ll have plenty of time in the spotlight later, Gabe.” Briar gestured toward the changing room.

When Gabriel pushed himself up and over toward the doorway, he was keenly aware of Briar following. The CEO had his hands in his pockets, his eyes never leaving Gabriel.

The chemistry between them was about to burst into flames. When Gabriel stepped into the back room with its comfortable sofa, makeup chair, and wardrobe corner, he heard the door lock slide into place.

His body burned with desire as he turned to face Briar, hooking his thumb into the too-tight jeans the agency had put him into while Briar’s eyes raked up and down him.

“Right clothes, right look, wrong photographer. It happens.” Briar’s voice was a warm, low rumble.

Gabriel lifted his chin. Some small piece of him was glad Briar wasn’t telling him off. Though he barely knew him, he knew plenty
of
him. Briar was a household name. He’d hate to blow off his opinion if Briar told him he wasn’t a good fit for the agency.

Instead, Briar pointed toward the chair right behind him.

“Sit.”