The Strand was busy with commuters this time of the evening. As I gazed down from my suite, I wondered how many of them were unaware of one of the fashion industry’s most important weeks happening right beside them.

Everyone was on edge: photographers, designers, show producers, models, buyers, makeup artists, agents…

Hundreds of attractive men -- and others, of course -- in the city for one high-pressure, high-profile week of shows and after-parties and schmoozing.

Normally, I might have been counting my condoms into my wallet, but I didn’t feel the same stir of interest as usual. I took a breath and let it out, rubbing my face as I moved to grab some anyway, along with lube. Just in case.

It was probably the pressure of networking, knowing I’d be running into certain familiar faces.

About this time, Raymond would be going over the expectations for all the new faces. Leonel would be trying to hide his wide-eyed unfamiliarity with London behind his cool façade, and the other models would be pouting and lounging around, trying to subtly one-up each other even in these behind-the-scenes moments.

I smiled to myself. It was kind of cute to witness, really. Maybe I’d drop in and see how it was going.

I had to meet a whole slew of people this week, though. I’d barely have time to watch the shows my own models were working, and when I did, it would be alongside very important people and their important attitudes.

“Dinner,” I murmured to myself, running a hand back through my hair. I was expected to join the table reserved by my agency and show my pride and investment in my models.

And I was proud of them. I was confident in Paul’s choice of this slate of new faces, none of them more than a couple years into their careers. All of them had been carefully honed and trained over the last months or -- in Leonel’s case -- weeks, at least.

They wouldn’t fuck up.

Every one of them except Leonel had years of experience, and half of them had been here last year.

Leonel was the wild card, but I was willing to put my neck on the line to show him off. I wanted everyone to see who I’d scooped up from the street and what I could turn him into in a matter of weeks.

No other agency could brag that.

“Remember, each one of you represents the top male modeling agency in the world.”

It was the same speech I had given last year, but every model was hanging onto my every word.

Every model except Leonel, who was watching red buses circle Trafalgar Square, his arms folded.

“And as such, you’re representing me. I’ve spent a long time building up Prestige’s reputation as the go-to agency. Every year, we get better and better. That’s why we’ve taken the chance on all of you. We can show a slate of fresh faces who perform just as well as the same tired old hags they drag out every year.”

There was a ripple of laughter, and I indulged them with a small smile.

“You’re going to kill it. I’ve watched every one of you in front of the camera, and most of you on the runway.”

My gaze flickered to Leonel. With two weeks’ notice, the agency hadn’t been able to squeeze him onto a real-life runway before. They’d trained him, over and over, but there was nothing like the narrow strip of land in the sea of judgmental, admiring, and critical faces watching every tiny movement.

This was the break of a lifetime for him, and the gamble of a lifetime for me, but I always listened to my gut instinct, and that told me Leonel was going to shine.

Just in case, the biggest shows weren’t first. There were smaller shows for the first two days, and then the events got more and more important. The agency could pull Leonel at any moment and fly someone else out for the next night.

It was a trial by fire.

Despite how thoroughly disinterested Leonel looked, he was barely breathing.

He’s scared shitless.

I tore my gaze off him before the other models noticed me looking. I didn’t need jealous attention from the rest of them this week, of all times.

“But don’t get complacent. Never get complacent. Every step you take is going to be photographed and watched by people you wouldn’t believe,” I told them. “This will move most of you from the new faces department into the runway department. Your careers will be made or broken here.”

Now none of them were breathing that much, the smiles gone as all eyes were fixed on my every word.

“Luckily, Paul, Raymond, and I picked all of you because... well, because the client wanted you, and also because we believe in every one of your abilities to do the job and do it right. Enjoy your meal and your night’s rest. Makeup begins at…” I trailed off, waiting for Raymond.

He took over. “Five o’clock. On the dot. I don’t want to see any of you stumbling in fifteen minutes late. All of your wake-up calls have been arranged already. Don’t ignore them.”

They all nodded.

I glanced over as the waiter arrived with the glasses of champagne I’d ordered, setting one in front of each person in the room.

“Now,” I said, clapping my hands once. “Have a drink, have a good meal, and get to sleep. The parties begin tomorrow night. This will be your last relaxing evening for a week -- and if things go really well for you, for a long time.”

My eyes flickered to Leonel as I raised my glass slightly once the waiter handed it over.

He raised his glass in return, followed by the rest of them in short order. As the fizz tickled my lips, I couldn’t stop remembering the bubbling desire between me and Leonel and every filthy hot kiss we’d shared when we last saw each other two weeks ago.

All it took was seeing that face, even among a sea of other pretty boy models who wanted to catch my eye, to set my body on fire with the need to taste Leonel again.

I swallowed those desires with the sharp, bubbly drink that burned my throat.