by Sierra Riley
For the first time, he didn’t feel… safe.
He twisted out of the grip and straightened his shirt, then shook his head. “Sorry.”
“Oh, there’s your line?” Paulo asked. He didn’t seem to be making fun of Gabe, though. “Good for you. Once you pop, you can’t stop.”
“Ohhh,” the guy snorting the line groaned, almost falling over as he pressed his hand to his forehead. “That is good shit. Oh my God.”
Leopold snickered, then clapped Gabriel’s arm. “C’mon.”
Expectant faces were turned to him silently.
Gabriel sighed and shook his head. “No can do. Come on, mate. I see people I gotta catch up with.”
“Why not?”
Of course. Gabriel had the sneaking suspicion he wasn’t going to make friends with his answer, but he shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to stand up straight. “It’s not a victimless crime.”
“What? You’re hammered,” Leopold laughed. “That’s the same.”
“It isn’t. The chemicals they use to extract that shit poison water, plants, and animals.”
“Ohhh, how adorable. A little Greenpeace rep,” Leopold giggled. “Come on, I’ll make sure it’s carbon-neutral.”
That got a round of laughter from everyone except Paulo.
“That’s not all. Look,” Gabriel breathed out, “I don’t think I should…”
“You ever heard of corporate culture?”
Paulo sucked in a quiet breath from beside Gabriel and reached out to squeeze his arm. Probably advising him to tread carefully. No choice now, honey. The thought was sweet, though.
Gabriel drew a breath, too. “I don’t care what I do to myself—I can drink myself to death, but coke’s farmed by people, and they die. And I can’t support that.”
“You wanna throw work away…” Leopold murmured.
For the first time, Gabriel could laugh. “Shit, no. I’ve got enough work for two of me. I don’t need to take jobs by guys who want me strung out and sprawled on the floor the night before.”
“I’d take you strung out and sprawled on the bed instead,” Leopold smirked, but Paulo stepped between them and slipped his arm around Gabriel’s shoulders. Leopold shrugged and grabbed his wallet to pull out a credit card.
“I gotta get this guy home. He’s… obviously hammered,” Paulo laughed, inviting Leopold to laugh, too. “This is how he gets when he’s drunk. A lot smarter than he lets on when he’s sober.”
That much was true. Gabriel’s ears burned and his cheeks flushed, which had to only add to the drunken ruse.
Not that he wasn’t drunk as fuck, that much was true. He didn’t say much as he got his jacket on and headed down the stairs, Paulo’s arm still around him. Words couldn’t express how grateful he was to Paulo for bundling him into a taxi downstairs, kissing his forehead and telling him he’d see him in the morning.
Then, Paulo turned to head back up the gleaming staircase to the house, his hands in his pockets.
The animal in the pit of Gabriel’s stomach was gnawing again. He covered his eyes with his fists for a few moments and rubbed hard, then opened his eyes again to catch sight of Paulo near the top of the stairs.
Gabriel watched after him until the taxi pulled away.
26
Briar
“I love Parisian restaurants. Nothing else like them in the world, hm? Though there was this one place in Singapore that rivaled them!”
This guy was trying so fucking hard.
Briar had to sigh to himself as he leaned against the bar and tried to pay attention to the skinny little thing who was trying to throw himself at him. He probably assumed that was how Gabriel had got his start, and…
Well, he wasn’t totally wrong. It just hadn’t happened like that.
Or had it?
Briar tightened his hold on his glass and sipped. “Mmm,” he agreed. Apparently that was all the encouragement the guy needed to go on.
“What’s your favorite place here? Maybe we could get away there…”
Briar idly checked his watch, then flicked his sleeve back down. “A bit late for that.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re right.” The guy wasn’t taking the hint. “Maybe tomorrow night.”
“We’re flying back tomorrow.”
“Here’s to the end of fashion month!” The guy held out his glass to clink and drank, then hummed contentedly. “That’s right. The end.”
That was it. He was going to walk away. He didn’t have time to be nice to these assholes. Briar slammed the rest of his whisky and put the glass on the bar, then took out his phone to send a text.
Every damn time someone hit on him, he thought of Gabriel.
It was getting to be a pain in the ass.
“Business?” The guy sounded disappointed.
Oh. That gets him to stop.
Briar nodded. “Sorry.”
“Of course. Lovely to meet you. See you around?”
“No doubt,” Briar nodded. No doubt. Briar did the obligatory air-kiss across the guy’s cheeks, being very careful not to actually touch skin.
Once he was gone, Briar looked back to his phone, then nibbled his lip. He hadn’t heard from Gabriel directly. He’d kept his distance at the presentation, not approaching or interacting with any of the models, but instead socializing with others.
Then, Gabriel and Paulo had been free to go out and fuck themselves up as much as they wanted as long as they could be up for the airport tomorrow. That wasn’t to say Briar didn’t worry, though. With both of their asshole exes lurking around the city…
It wasn’t insignificant that Austin was there, poaching models.
And for Gabriel, it could be an interesting opportunity. He was big enough that his name alone would pull jobs. Not if he kept up the attitude, but for now.
Briar had been lucky to sidestep the repercussions of making that same decision. He was fast enough on his feet to see a business and modeling retirement opportunity all in one, and he’d consequently started his business.
Would Gabriel have the contacts or the knowledge in his pretty little head to start his own agency when his career crashed?
He doubted that.
Briar growled under his breath and stalked for the door. Alcohol wasn’t going to help him get over Gabriel. And admitting his feelings? What was he, a lovesick puppy? Never again. He’d wait until someone told him they wanted him first.
Didn’t stop him composing a text in the taxi on the way home.
Afterparties going well? Congrats on making it to the end of the month.
By the time he hit the pillow, he still hadn’t heard back, but he kept his phone on the bed as it charged overnight.
Just in case.
It was a little surprising how easily Briar woke the next morning. Then again, Briar had limited his drinking, considering the kind of hangovers he was used to dealing with after end-of-fashion-month parties.
Paris was good at handling the hordes of exhausted fashion industry insiders with a desperate need to drink their faces off and forget the successes and failures of the week. Briar just wasn’t sure his heart was in that place anymore.
It wasn’t surprising when they all piled out of their rooms at eleven to see that Paulo was the worst-off. Gabriel was middle-of-the-line in the hangover stakes, while Jon was sunny and happy. He never seemed to suffer from them, so it was hard to assess how much damage he’d done to himself.
The rest of the guys—Adam, Hans, Ken, and the lesser-known models—were in varying states of disarray.
Julius was grumpy as he herded everyone in the limo and instructed the driver to load their luggage, but that was just his normal morning self.
“Thanks, darling,” Briar told Julius on the way by and half-hugged him, then climbed into the front row with Vince. The discussion earlier about quitting still weighed heavily on his mind.
“Doing good?” Vince asked. He was sleepy and possibly a little drunk still, but he was smiling anyway.
“Fine, thanks,” Briar told him and took a deep breath. He tried not to look at Gabriel as he climbed in and past him.
God, this was going to be awkward if he wasn’t talking to him anymore. That wouldn’t work as boss and employee, and would put a serious crimp in… whatever more they’d had going on.
Don’t be another relationship ruined by fucking fashion month.
The circuit—New York, London, Milan, and Paris—was a pressure cooker even for established couples.
Couples.
Briar shook himself out of it and stared out the window as they drove to the airport, nobody saying much. The hungover guys definitely appreciated the silence before travel chaos really kicked in at the airport.
Even there, Julius did his usual excellent job getting everyone coordinated. Despite his being just the manager for some of these guys, not even all of them, Noel and Vince and Briar all let him take charge.
At the airport, once they’d checked in and breezed through security—a couple of them getting busted for forgetting full shampoo or water bottles—they compared seat numbers.
Briar joined in with a grin. “Way ahead of you all. 4A. Anyone got 4B?”
“There’s no 4B on this plane. Just A and C.” That was Julius, a font of knowledge.
“I have 4C.”
Gabriel.
Briar caught his gaze for a moment but smiled instantly. No way was he letting that awkwardness on to anyone else until they talked.
Gabriel smiled back and reached out a fist to casually bump Briar’s. “Seat buddies. You losers are all in, like, eleven.”
“You guys elbowed to the front of the lineup,” Jon complained.
“We’ll wait for you on the other side. Maybe.” Gabriel rolled his carry-on ahead of the group, his head up and alert.
They crashed at the gate in a group, taking up a whole section of seats as they bantered at each other. This was the bit Briar enjoyed—the camaraderie.
Briar tuned out most of it but joined in with the jokes now and then. He didn’t want to come off as completely aloof to his own guys, after all.
When it was finally time to board, Briar led Gabriel past the ticket agents as they waved their tickets. “Not worse for wear today?”
“Nah. I got an early night.”
Briar raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He hoped it didn’t offend Gabriel again.
“Early relative to the other nights,” Gabriel clarified with a quiet laugh. “And we slept in.”
“That was nice,” Briar agreed. “Gonna sleep today, too?”
“Soon as I get home… I’m crashing,” Gabriel agreed in a relieved moan. “Even if it’s nothing like a hotel room.”
Briar raised a brow. Gabriel was in a pretty fancy place himself, unless he had a surprisingly cheap apartment there. “Really?”
Then Gabriel paused, looking at him hard for a second before looking away. “Yeah. Uh, about the… hotels…”
Briar knew exactly what he was talking about: Julius had told him about the extra charges for the hotel room. Luckily, whenever they were dealing with star talent, that shit was built into the budget.
That was an advantage of being a CEO who’d been there, done that.
“I wouldn’t make a habit of it,” Briar told him, trying to keep his tone out of the lecturing range. “But don’t worry about this time.”
Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief, barely audible, as he swung himself down into his seat, tucked the bag under his seat, and buckled up.
Briar sat in the aisle seat, then stretched his legs out and buckled up with a hum of contentment. “I love being at the front. The front of the customs lineup is the best place to be.”
Gabriel hummed his agreement. “And the free booze section is the best section.”
They kept chatting about nothing at all, really, until the airplane door closed, the flight attendants were seated, and they were rolling across the ramp toward the runway.
Only then did Briar notice Gabe’s fingers digging into the armrest until his knuckles turned white. He reached out to cover Gabe’s hand with his own and offer a smile.
“You okay?”
Gabriel flinched but nodded, staring out the window instead. “Yeah. Sorry.” He didn’t let go, though.
Briar patted his hand lightly. “You’ll be all right.”
“Probably,” Gabriel gritted. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
“No, it doesn’t. You usually drink before the plane, don’t you?”
Gabriel turned his startled gaze to Briar. “You know that?”
Oh, yeah. Someone not closely following whatever Julius told him about that one specific model probably wouldn’t know that. Briar’s cheeks flushed, and Gabriel started to grin in delight.
“You’re totally stalking me.”
“I’m not,” Briar defended himself heatedly, but Christ, his cheeks were burning as he turned his gaze away now, staring ahead down the aisle. “I’m just paying attention to the—ow!”
Gabriel had grabbed his hand, and was digging his nails into the side of Briar’s hand as the plane lifted off the pavement.
Briar’s eyes widened and he bit his lip firmly, but now that he was expecting it, it wasn’t that painful. He brought his other hand over to cover Gabriel’s as Gabriel stared out the window, apparently unwilling to even admit he was holding his damn hand. It was almost laughable if it weren’t so concerning.
For a long minute they said nothing, just sitting like this, Briar rubbing slow circles into the back of Gabriel’s hand with his other thumb while Gabe crushed his hand.
Then Gabriel abruptly let go and brushed his hands on his jeans, trying to shake out the tension. At last, he looked sort of in Briar’s direction. “Sorry. Just got startled.”
“It was a bit bumpy,” Briar nodded. The tiny jolts had been nothing to him, but for someone afraid of flying…
He hadn’t known the poor guy was that badly off.
“Anyway,” Gabriel muttered.
Briar cleared his throat. “So it’s probably awkward to bring this up, but… why didn’t you message me back last night? Or let me take you out somewhere? Aside from I’m your boss and it’d be weird?” He kept his voice down, just in case someone else could hear, even though they were all several rows back.
“I’m not your booty call,” Gabriel murmured back, his voice sharp but also low. “I don’t want to just be that.”
“You’re more than that,” Briar instantly assured him. “You’re the best damn talent we have. I don’t want you feeling like you can’t hang around me, or that you have to. My agency doesn’t work that way.”
He didn’t mean to stress my, but he did anyway.
Gabriel considered him for a moment, then glanced behind and around them.
Then he gripped Briar’s chin in his hand and hauled him in for one quick, fierce kiss.
Their lips were hot and wet together, a potent reminder of how fucking good he’d been that very first time, in the changing room… It gave Briar hot and totally impractical ideas.
Fuck, why hadn’t he just chartered a plane?
Briar pulled back when Gabriel did, his eyes sparkling. “Well, there’s a mixed signal if I ever heard one.”
It was Gabriel’s turn to blush as he folded his arms tightly across his chest and leaned back in his seat, adjusting the pillow behind his head. He closed his eyes to get some sleep.
There was something off about the way Gabriel was responding, though, even to these little moments.
It was like he didn’t quite want to admit what was wrong, but there was something eating him up.
Briar stared at him for a minute, then gazed off across the backs of seats as he tried to wrap his head around his own thoughts. He needed more than hot hookups with Gabe—it was clear they both needed and wanted that, from the little hint Gabriel had just let slip.
But were they ready? Briar was afraid the answer was no.
And right now, Gabriel didn’t need a
boyfriend. He was going through the biggest changes of his life—the sudden explosion of fame, losing the ability to go out and be invisible on the streets among the masses, learning how fickle fame and friends were up here… probably even dealing with more money than he was used to having.
He needed a friend, and Briar didn’t know how to be that person.
When the flight leveled off, he tore open both their blanket packages and draped Gabriel’s across him as Gabriel turned in his seat to tuck his head against the pillow and the window, his back to Briar. His breathing was uneven and he kept drumming his fingers as if he were tense.
Hell, he looked tense even from this angle. But he wasn’t going to ask. Gabe could deal with his own shit, and if he couldn’t, surely he knew Briar was there for him.
Briar reached out and rubbed Gabriel’s back lightly, then pulled the blanket a little further up and unfolded his own blanket.
27
Gabriel
“I can’t believe everything that happened,” Gabriel breathed out as he leaned against Sandra’s work bench. Finally, he had a couple of days to himself with no events.
Some guys might have been worried, about the drop in the number of jobs their agents told them about, but Gabriel wasn’t. Yet.
Next week, he’d be worried. For now, three days off sounded like the best thing in the world to him.
Even if that meant he wasn’t in the office or around at studios, which meant he didn’t have a chance of bumping into Briar. Especially not here on the Island, which he’d so nearly let slip was his neighborhood on the plane.
Shit, this was really where lies came back to bite him. It was kind of poetic, Gabriel supposed. He deserved it for lying on his résumé in the first place. If he hadn’t done that… would they ever have hired him? It was kind of moot, since he’d never know.
But going even three days without seeing Briar in the audience, backstage keeping an eye on him, in the corner of the photographers’ rooms watching alongside Julius or Vince or Noel…