by Tricia Owens
“There’s another bar farther in,” Ethan told him and led the way to the Vesper Bar.
Surrounded by mirrors, white furniture, and an overhead light fixture that resembled falling sheets of snow, the place made Ethan think of an ice palace.
Merrick thought so, too. He didn’t find that a positive. “Hmm, feels like a scene from Frozen. If I shot you here, you’d need to break into song.”
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d heard me sing,” Ethan said with a laugh.
“Maybe. Maybe not. What else is here?” Merrick looked around hopefully.
Ethan pointed up. “The second level.”
Upstairs, past the retail shops and restaurants, Merrick found what he was looking for. Leather club chairs, a foosball table, shelves stocked with sports paraphernalia and games—it was a man cave out in the open.
“This is it,” Merrick declared. “We’re shooting here.” He moved quickly in between the chairs which were part of a mismatched collection that included wooden hardbacks and upholstered black velvet and began rearranging them. Ethan looked around to see if anyone had a problem with Merrick’s redecorating, but no one in an official capacity was paying any attention. Merrick soon had moved the furniture around to his liking and stepped back to study it with a critical, expert eye.
“Ethan, stand by the foosball table. Three-quarter turn to me.”
He moved forward automatically, conditioned to accept Merrick’s orders. He sheepishly realized what he’d done only after he’d reached the designated spot. Slightly embarrassed, Ethan tucked a hand into one trouser pocket and struck a basic pose. Tourists walked past, curious but unfazed by an impromptu photoshoot or the man with his fingers in front of his face who moved forward and back and to each side, trying to find the most powerful composition.
“Looking good,” Merrick murmured, deep in concentration. “Pretend you’re holding a glass of Scotch.”
Ethan did as requested, striking a few poses and shifting position around the table to give Merrick a variety of options.
After ten minutes or so of this, Merrick told him to sit in one of the leather chairs.
It was refreshing to offer poses that weren’t overtly sexual. Even when Ethan had modeled sportswear, he’d been directed to ‘make it sexy’ whenever possible by subtly emphasizing his crotch or ass. This time, Merrick wanted him to sit like a man who commanded the room, certainly nothing Ethan had ever experienced before in his personal life, but he was good at acting when necessary.
“Seduce me with your eyes,” Merrick told him as he approached slowly, hands in front of his face. “You’re a tiger. You want to draw me near so you can pounce on me.”
A couple of passing women who’d overheard him giggled. Ethan felt slightly foolish doing this in front of random people—he was used to mostly closed sets—but as a former professional he knew to ignore his pride and respect his director’s wishes. He imagined the intense looks that came so easily to Max and tried to emulate them.
“Yes,” Merrick whispered, crouching down directly in front of Ethan. He stared at Ethan through the frame of his fingers. “You’re the man everyone wants, but no one deserves you. Give me haughty. Give me untouchable.”
Basically, you’re asking for my husband, Ethan thought, amused.
“Now pull back your coat and let me see your gun…”
“No.”
Max stepped out from behind Ethan’s chair. Ethan startled as guiltily as though he’d been caught stripping. Even Merrick was surprised enough that he nearly lost his balance and fell backward onto his ass. He quickly stood up, clearing his throat.
“Mr. Poole! Glad you could make it.”
“It’s noon,” Max said flatly as he looked from Merrick to Ethan, who quickly stood up, feeling awkward to be sitting down while working, even under the circumstances.
“Is it really that late?” Ethan belated checked the Breitling that Max had given him and couldn’t believe his eyes. “It was ten o’clock only a few minutes ago. Well, it felt that way, anyway.” He forced a smile. “Time flies when you’re planning a film shoot.”
“You two were quite engrossed in each other,” Max said.
He didn’t sound angry, but his tone wasn’t exactly chipper, either. The ice felt very thin beneath Ethan’s feet.
“You know us creative types,” Merrick said jovially. “We get so caught up in our work we forget the world around us. What do you think of the setup?”
His blithe attitude wouldn’t distract Max from anything, but Ethan was relieved to see Max obligingly look around the area. Apparently, he wasn’t too upset at whatever he thought he’d witnessed between Ethan and Merrick.
“The Chandelier Bar would have been the obvious choice,” he commented, “which you wisely didn’t take. A bit too ‘Vegas’, hmm? This more accurately fits the impression that Ethan says you’re looking to convey.”
“Power, masculinity, and sex appeal,” Merrick confirmed. “You’re familiar with all of those or I’ll eat my left shoe.”
Max made a noncommittal sound before slowly walking the perimeter of the area. Ethan watched him warily, as though a wild panther were on the loose. He blinked in surprise when Max sat down in a high-backed velvet armchair.
“Don’t mind me,” he said as he drew his right ankle to rest atop his left knee. “I’m merely an interested observer. Please continue with your work.”
Ethan shared a look with Merrick. The older man, after a pause, smiled and shrugged.
“You heard the man, Eath. Let’s do this.”
Ethan was still leery. He’d imagined this moment differently. Max watching him do something he was somewhat good at should have been the perfect opportunity to show off. But he was nervous, and he already understood that there were unexpected ground rules.
“Is there an issue with me being armed for this?” Ethan asked him. “It’s sort of the premise for the campaign. That I’m a bodyguard.”
“I am aware of this. However, I won’t permit flashing your weapon in public. It could invite the wrong kind of attention, besides casting The Elite Poole Worldwide in an unprofessional light.”
“We’ll pick up a prop gun,” Merrick said, waving off the issue. “No biggie.”
“Alright.” Still feeling off-kilter, Ethan resumed his seat in the leather chair.
Merrick crouched in front of him again. “You know what I want,” he said. “Now give it to me, Eath.”
Cringing inside, Ethan had to remind himself that Max was an intelligent man. He wouldn’t assume that Merrick’s way of directing his models held any underlying sexual interest. Even if at one point, they had.
Ethan began with some basic poses. Mostly it was about the eyes and mouth, anyway. But as he relaxed and was able to focus on the job again—except this isn’t my job anymore—he became more active, shifting the positions of his arms and legs, sitting forward and then reclining. Merrick, sensing that he was feeling more confident, suggested that he stand up and pick his own spots.
Ethan remained by the chair at first, resting against its back, leaning against an arm. He moved to a wooden chair and tried some poses with one foot resting on the seat, hands in and out of his pockets.
“Nice. Chin down,” Merrick would murmur. “Try a slight turn. Look back. Yes. Watch your light.”
His voice became a familiar, comforting drone whose directives Ethan followed easily. It was like muscle memory, his body finding and holding poses that had once made up his repertoire as a model. He got lost in the headspace of it, of the fantasy of him being a devastatingly handsome and intimidating bodyguard who invited the viewer to approach him at their sexual peril.
It was all in the eyes, in the heavy, intense gaze that he never leveled on anyone outside of these shoots because that aggressiveness simply wasn’t in his nature.
“I think he’s speechless,” Merrick murmured softly, and that was when Ethan remembered where he was, who he was….and who was watching.
P
anic rushed through him in a bright, hot instant. But it quickly drained away. He’d done nothing wrong. When he glanced surreptitiously to where Max remained seated, motionless, the dark-haired man’s expression appeared anything but disapproving. Far from.
Heat prickled in Ethan’s cheeks as he met a fierce blue gaze that put his own ‘model stare’ to shame. Max looked as though he was this close to storming across the space between them and bending Ethan over the foosball table and taking him right there in front of everyone.
How do I get that look? Ethan thought absently, but in truth, he didn’t care about imitating Max. He simply wanted Max to unleash the promise burning in his eyes. Here, at home—anywhere.
He had to avert his eyes and break the connection, or else Merrick would comment on the erection forming in his pants. Summoning his concentration, Ethan continued posing for him. But he’d lost that professional distance. It was no longer him and Merrick’s fake camera. Ethan’s sphere of awareness had shifted to include Max, seated feet away. Ethan could imagine it too easily: Max standing up and stalking him, backing him into a corner and using just his fingertips dragging down Ethan’s body to bring him to full, aching arousal…then grabbing him and spinning him around and grinding up against his ass, taunting Ethan with what he’d soon be thrusting into whichever hole of his Max wanted to use.
“Crap,” Ethan muttered to himself. He raised a leg to place it on the seat chair again, even though he’d used that pose plenty already, just to shield his groin.
“Focus, kiddo.”
Merrick’s cajoling voice was soft. It wasn’t enough to grip Ethan’s attention and bring him back to the work at hand. With his leg raised, his half-hard cock was hidden from view, yes, but the fabric of his trousers drew tight across his ass as though to draw attention to it. He felt his back bowing slightly, pushing his hips out. His entire body felt warm and it was all he could do to stare blindly in the direction of Merrick and not over his shoulder at Max, to see if this display was exciting him.
“Alright!”
Merrick’s sudden clap of the hands startled Ethan enough that his foot slipped off the seat of the chair. He stumbled forward clumsily, saved by Merrick grabbing him by one arm.
“Whoa, watch it there. Looks like you may have locked your knees,” he said with a smile. “That’s an easy way to get yourself to pass out.”
Ethan nodded gratefully, taking the flimsy excuse, hoping Max would buy it.
He swept his hand through his hair, feeling sweaty even though he wasn’t. “This will work for a location, right? You’ve seen enough?”
Merrick looked down with a funny little smile on his face before nodding. “I sure have. I’m going to speak with the Cosmo PR rep and sort out the date and time with him for the shoot.”
“Before you do that,” Max spoke up, “I’d like the three of us to sit down for a discussion.”
Ethan hoped he looked cool and collected as he turned to Max and not as frazzled and turned-on as he felt.
Max appeared completely at ease, but a suit coat could hide many sins. In this case, a big one that Ethan was intimately acquainted with.
“I trust that Ethan conveyed my desire to see your campaign proposal?” Max continued.
Merrick nodded. “My portfolio is in the limo. I can call and have the driver bring—”
“Why don’t we go down to the car,” Max suggested instead. “It will grant us some much-needed privacy.”
It sounded claustrophobic to Ethan, but he had to agree that they’d get no privacy anywhere within a casino without requesting a private room…which Max was fully capable of, but apparently uninterested in doing.
“In the car?” Merrick shrugged. “If that’s what you want. I’m willing to make this work, Maxmillian, so we’ll do whatever you want.”
Those were words, Ethan thought worriedly, you shouldn’t say to Maxmillian Poole unless you’re willing to pay up.
~~~~~
The interior of the Elite Poole limo was quiet. Some might say it was unnervingly quiet, but Maxmillian understood the power of silence in learning the truth about people and their motives.
The privacy screen was up, keeping the driver—a woman named Kate—from hearing or seeing anything. This was how Max wanted to learn all there was to know about Merrick Felix’s campaign: far from potential gossiping tongues and cell phone cameras. Both had been present during Ethan’s test photoshoot and Max’s teeth had been on edge the entire time.
The portfolio that Felix had presented to his client the previous night was now stretched across Max’s lap. Ethan and the photographer/entrepreneur sat across from him. Their stares were heavy with expectation, but Max took his time turning the pages and studying the mockup ads Felix had created using a single candid photograph of Ethan.
The presentation was impressive for having been constructed around a single image. Felix had manipulated the original with lighting and coloring and had overlaid various graphics and fonts to create over a dozen variations. One or two were good enough they could have been exported directly into a magazine.
“No tag line?” Max inquired mildly without looking up. He was admittedly captivated by the images of Ethan. His blond-haired lover was astonishingly photogenic, which was saying quite a lot considering how handsome Ethan was in person.
“Would have cheapened it,” Felix replied, his tone strong with confidence. “The image speaks for itself. You’re looking at the man you want to be, wearing the suit you want to own. It’s as basic as that.”
“So it is.”
Max paused on a black and white version. Ethan had been standing near what appeared to be a hotel window when the photo was taken. Sunlight and a hint of overexposure turned the outer locks of his hair white, nearly translucent. Paired with his pale suit and shirt, he seemed to glow like an angel, while the rest of the room faded into darkness. The suit, Max was aware since he’d purchased it, was a Dior. It looked even more expensive on Ethan, as though it were priceless.
“You’re very talented,” Max concluded, reluctantly closing the portfolio.
Ethan visibly relaxed. Merrick Felix nodded his head as though he’d been expecting the praise.
“I like to think I know what I’m doing, thanks.”
“And what are you doing?”
The older man’s mouth fell open slightly. “I don’t—I don’t know what you mean. I’m shooting a campaign. About suits.”
“You’ve slept with my husband.”
“Max,” Ethan groaned, slapping a hand over his eyes. “Please don’t.”
“Ah.” Felix tapped his fingers on his thighs. “I was wondering if that would come up. To be honest, I didn’t think it would.”
Max studied him with interest. “Did you think I’d be upset?”
“I thought you might be jealous but would put it aside for the sake of business. Ethan ended up yours. You won, you could say. He and I will remain only friends.”
“I believe that’s true.” Max spread his hand across the top of the portfolio, the action unmistakably possessive. “Not for lack of interest, however. You photograph Ethan as though you’re still in love with him. Or at least infatuated.”
Ethan groaned again, but it was Felix’s reaction that Max cared about. The other man didn’t gape in surprise or frown with offense. He blushed. From the tips of his ears all down the column of his throat.
“I understand how you feel,” Max said, “better than any man alive. Ethan is remarkable, and I count my blessings that he’s with me. I understand why you would have difficulty letting him go.”
“I’ve let go,” Felix said tightly, still blushing as he glanced quickly at Ethan. “That’s not what this is about or why I’m here.”
“Max, I told you it’s ancient history,” Ethan bit out. Now that he’d overcome his embarrassment, his anger began to leak through. The look in his eyes reminded Max of how Ethan had looked while he’d been modeling inside the casino, and something hungry moved through Max
even though he knew he couldn’t act on it here.
“Merrick is a professional and so am I,” Ethan continued. He pointed at the portfolio on Max’s lap. “That’s tasteful and you know it, so don’t make up excuses to prevent this from happening. This is a win-win for all of us. You agreed, remember?”
“I agreed to look at Mr. Felix’s work. As you say, it’s impressive and not at all sordid or exploitive. That doesn’t affect my opinion that he continues to hold a torch for you.” Max smiled, though he wasn’t attempting to be nice. “He offered to be your Daddy, Ethan. Have you forgotten that? Because I haven’t. He wanted to take care of you in every sense, no matter what it required of him. I don’t find that insignificant.”
“It’s none of your business what I offered Ethan,” Felix ground out. He seemed to have overcome his humiliation and found his spine. “As he told you, our relationship was in the past. I’m not the kind of man who’d break up a happy marriage, and Ethan is happily married to you, though I might have my reservations as to why, considering your hard press right now.”
“Hard press? Is that what you think this is? We’re merely having a conversation. I’m vetting the man who wants my husband to pose provocatively for him.” He held up his hand when Ethan began to protest. “And yes, he can be provocative even fully clothed. Ethan would invite fantasies even if he were dressed in chainmail.”
“I happen to agree with you. About him looking good in everything. But you saw my proposal. This is about attitude more than it is sex appeal.”
Max’s smile was cool enough to frost glass. “Is it.”
“What do you want me to say, Mr. Poole? If you’re expecting a confession of lust from me for your husband, you’re not going to get it. I’m here to work. I have a job to do. Ethan is perfect for the job, so I want to hire him. That’s how the modeling world works. Or are you one of those partners who can’t handle it when their lovers get all the attention?”
“Max isn’t insecure,” Ethan muttered, looking completely exasperated and like he wanted to dive out of the back of the limo.