“Champagne, sir?”

I delicately picked up the glass stem between two fingers and tilted my chin in a slight nod to the waiter circulating the room like a polite, black-and-white-clad ghost.

“So, like I was saying, Eugene’s elephant prints? Come on, it’s not a safari.”

“I think they’re innovative.”

I was staying the fuck out of this conversation. It was still surreal to be invited into it at all, let alone witnessing the heavyweight fight about to unfold.

Asa and Joaquín were two of the top male models in the world, and they were signed to different agencies. It was a rare friendship between guys who were technically competitors, but somehow it worked. They let their agents handle duking it out for the best gigs, and at parties like this one, they hung out -- and flirted, of course.

Rumor had a lot more happen between them, but I was about to get my first proper glimpse at it.

“It’s stylish in a retro-contemporary way,” Asa said matter-of-factly, sipping his champagne and giggling as he leaned into Joaquín. “You just hate animals.”

Joaquín clicked his tongue and gestured toward me with his glass, addressing me instead of his friend. “Untrue.”

I laughed. “Animal prints?”

“No, he got bit by a dog or something.” Asa winked. “Since then, he rejects everything. Jameson made him walk in this cute little number with kittens on it. Nearly pissed myself at the look on his face.”

I knew exactly which collection and show that was; I hadn’t been following Joaquín on Instagram for years for nothing. I pretended this was the first I’d heard of it, though, and laughed.

“I like the knit ties with everything,” I admitted. Who didn’t like knit ties? Boring, but safe.

“Hmm,” Asa hummed. “It seemed old to me, but the runways are always a step behind us.”

I grinned. Models really liked to think they were on the cutting edge of fashion -- even more so than anyone else in the damn business.

In reality, a lot of male models couldn’t afford the clothes they wore in print spreads. The top few hundred, maybe. Luckily for me, it looked like I had a shot.

Not that I’d complain about making a living, but if I could make more money for the same shit?

Hell yeah.

Asa offered me a nibble from the passing hors d’oeuvres tray, but I winked and shook my head. I knew that trick: fatten up the other agency’s guys.

Asa clicked his tongue and shrugged. “So, Leo, your first show? How’re you liking it?”

“It’s… a lot,” I admitted. That much was true. “But I’ve been waiting a long time for this shot.”

Joaquín half-smiled, casting Asa a wistful glance. “Oh, that first-show feeling. You never forget your first time.”

Asa toasted to that, sliding his arm around Joaquín’s shoulders. “Yours was glorious, baby. Nobody will forget that week in Paris.”

“What happens in Paris…” Joaquín smirked, clinking his glass to mine. “You did great, baby.”

Just then, a hot blond sidled up behind me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “How’re you? Great job earlier.”

I turned to face him for a quick look up and down.

Well, wasn’t he sexier than a tall lemonade? He stood an inch shorter or so, and he had earnest, wide, dark eyes.

The kind of eyes that won me over instantly.

Like Gideon’s.

My heart dropped. I wasn’t in the habit of comparing hookups. Every guy was hot for his own reasons.

But Gideon hadn’t looked twice at me since dinner with the Prestige models that first night. We’d never been in the same room long enough anyway. No doubt he was avoiding me in the interest of discretion, but it made my heart sink.

I batted my lashes anyway, getting closer to the other guy and murmuring, “Thanks. I didn’t see you backstage, did I…?”

“I’m with a magazine. I was on the other side of the curtain,” the stranger told me with a grin.

I laughed. Is this a chance at something? “Ahhh. I’m pleased you remembered me out of everyone who walked today, then.”

“How could I not?”

I knew when I was being blatantly hit on. I still hesitated, scanning the dark club around me for some distraction.

There was Gideon, lounging against a post, his hip cocked and one toe against the ground. He rarely modeled now, except for the rare business or lifestyle magazine as a CEO, but he still stood like one when he wasn’t thinking.

It was a tiny detail that I loved. Fucking hell, was I stuck on this guy?

The blond magazine guy was saying something and I had to turn back to him. “Hmm?”

Asa and Joaquín had already slipped away to talk in a corner nearby, so I had no hope of rescue there.

“I was asking if you have plans tonight,” the magazine guy said with a mischievous smile.

“Sleep is one.” I grinned. “The makeup chair calls at an early hour.”

“Too early to stay up too late? That’s a shame.”

I nodded, letting my gaze flick up and down. An Armani scent, expensive branded clothes. Not just an intern, then; this guy could be important. I couldn’t brush him off.

I ignored the part of me that said, Holy shit, you stupid asshole, you got into the biz to fuck guys like him and now you’re trying to ditch him?

Instead, I winked again. “I’m sure I’ll see you around this week.”

“I hope so.”

Before I even made it to the place I’d last spotted Gideon, I felt a hand brush down my back. I recognized the firm touch and the sweet, spicy scent of my CEO and the man who’d hired me.

And my heart lifted with hope.

I smiled, turning slightly until I met Gideon’s eyes. “Hello.”

“Enjoying the attention?”

“I am. Jealous?” It was a bold question, but I wanted to test the waters between us. Fuck, but all I had to do was look at him for about ten seconds and that chemistry crackled to life under my skin again.

Some guys I fucked once and never looked at again, but this wasn’t like that. Gideon and I still had a lot of hot encounters in us.

And the man felt it too, by the way his eyes fell for long moments to my lips before he shook his head. “No need to be. You earned every moment of attention today.”

And it was true -- I had worked my ass off that day, and technically, I was still working and representing Prestige. I inclined my head to acknowledge the comment.

“A lot of eyes on us tonight,” Gideon murmured, leaning in closer. “And you have to be up and at it early. Saturday night, I expect you’ll be ready to party.”

After the final show -- the biggest of all? Fuck yeah, I would be ready to get drunk and…

Oh. Wait. That kind of party?

I grinned broadly. “Oh, yeah.”

Then Gideon nodded once to me and was gone, picking his way through the crowd to check in with Luca. Was he making some indecent proposal to him, too?

I watched after him for a minute as I finished my champagne glass and set it down.

I refused to admit that it was my turn to be jealous.

“My lips are fine.”

I gritted my teeth with irritation as Charlie insisted on putting on another top coat anyway.

I was going to look too fem now with lips that color. But then, I reminded myself, the runway took half of it off. I was seeing up close what was meant to be stage makeup.

“There. Now they’re fine, darling,” Charlie beamed. “A little more on your cheeks…”

I cocked my head. I had nearly perfect skin already, but Charlie was layering on makeup anyway?

“Just to even your skin tone, make sure the lights show you at your best.”

I clicked my tongue but straightened out my head for Charlie to have one more go at my cheeks.

“There! Now you’re ready to go!” Charlie concluded with another grin. “Well, once they fit you for sure.”

I was getting tired of people pinching and sewing and pulling me around, dressing me like a mannequin. I was good at acting like I didn’t care, loose and pliable in the team’s hands, but underneath, I simmered with annoyance.

Still, I let them do their jobs until I was lined up, ready and waiting for the light.

This time, I was first.

I’d tried to ignore Luca’s sideways glances at me when the producer had told us the lineup.

I’d also tried not to smirk too much.

I was good. By my second or third show, people had seen that. It was my fourth now in as many days, and I knew what to expect every step of the way.

Sure, there were last-minute malfunctions: a jeans zipper broke, a hem didn’t sit right, or a hairstyle wouldn’t cooperate until it was gelled into compliance. But they all got fixed in time by someone or other. My job was just to stand there and look pretty, and I could do that damn well.

I strutted toward the door when the light turned green.

The world was my stage and I was fucking rocking it.

I was completely unfazed by the sea of faces now, and the thumping music and footsteps of the other guys behind me. It was all only a backdrop to the main attraction: me.

One foot in front of the other, my hips and chest out, my shoulders flung back, my chin up, I walked.