The blast of cold air down the escalator made me curl my fingers into the sleeves of my jacket, playfully hunching behind Gideon when he turned to get a glance at me.

“It’s brutal,” he said with a laugh. “And hell on the hair.” He reached out to ruffle my hair, giving me an obnoxious grin.

I tried to duck out of the way, groaning and then headbutting his arm before stepping down one stair on the escalator. “You dick.”

“The wind did it already. I was just fixing it.” He smirked.

I took out my phone to quickly fix my hair while I could, stepping off the escalator and following Gideon to the exit.

“Tap out,” he instructed and I quickly glanced up from my phone, then rummaged for the plastic card to get out of the station.

“Well, that’s kind of useless.” I pocketed my card again, then my phone. “Why’d you have to do that?”

He shrugged. “It just works differently. You pay per zone, if I remember right, not a flat rate.”

“Oh.”

I followed Gideon to the street outside, glad to be out of the depths of the underground and back into fresh, sunny, warm March air. Thank God London was having such unusually clear weather this weekend.

From my first glance at the neighborhood, it didn’t look like the kind of place Gideon would spend a lot of time. Honestly, I was surprised he even knew about it.

The street stretched out ahead of us, all souvenir shops and boutiques sprawling across the sidewalks. Tourists, punks, and annoyed-looking hipsters skirting around the slow-moving crowds made up most of the crowd walking down both sides of the sidewalk and even the street sometimes.

People cut across the street to the station, so I stepped out of their way and started walking down our side of the street. “This way?”

“Sure.” Gideon nodded. “Food’s this way. I like the vegetarian and vegan choices around here.”

I cast him a startled glance. “Are you veggie?”

“Yep.”

I hummed thoughtfully, then nodded. “Always been?”

“Yeah, for a long time now.” He kept his hands tucked in his pockets. “I initially did it as part of a diet back when I was modeling, actually.”

“You never mentioned on Instagram or anything--” Before I even finished the sentence, I realized that sounded a little stalkerish, and my cheeks heated up. I tried to stay casual.

“No. People get weird about it sometimes.” Gideon laughed, that deep note ringing out freely. “People can guess if they stalk my food photos close enough…”

I snorted. “Ain’t no one got time for that.”

He laughed again, then gestured around. “What do you think?”

“It’s… not your scene, is it?”

He chuckled. “No. There’s more… upmarket… veggie places in town in London. It’s the boutiques we’re here for. They’re more your style.”

“Ohhh.” I perked up. I’d submitted my paperwork that morning to Raymond before scurrying off for the station. “I’m going to get paid soon, right?”

Gideon snorted. “I’m buying it. The agency is, rather. You’re our darling now… your image has to match.”

Hearing him tell me I was their up-and-coming star did far more for my ego than hearing a thousand random compliments from the army of journalists, editors, interns, and makeup artists who never left me the fuck alone.

“Cool,” I concluded, nodding slightly. Gideon was right; I did have to look the part now. “How are my bookings?”

“Ask Raymond. I don’t know,” he scoffed. “I just know I sold you to at least half a dozen of my buddies.”

“One at a time, I hope.” I winked.

Gideon’s laugh was quick and startled. “Yeah. Jesus, you’ve got a filthy mind.”

I just cast him one more quick hooded gaze and model pout, then turned abruptly to walk into a clothes boutique with menswear in the window.

I’d expected Gideon to hang back and watch, but instead, he instantly started picking through the racks to find the couple acceptable items there. Sometimes he held them up and I held still, and then he’d nod and hand over the hanger or shake his head and put it back.

It was a bit surreal for me not to even look at the price tags as we moved from shop to shop. In the third store, a little down an alley, the guy behind the counter was busy stapling together a pile of papers when we entered. When he caught sight of our faces, he squeezed his stapler so hard it got stuck closed.

I breezed past the counter to pick up a couple of jackets, holding them up for Gideon’s opinion.

We only spent a few minutes in the store, but we found a pair of jeans that looked like they could be perfectly altered, a dark leather jacket, and a sweater that was perfect for layering this time of year.

“H-hi,” the clerk breathlessly greeted us when I carried up my armful of clothing to add another bag to the two already in my hands.

Gideon coolly nodded, waiting for the items to be rung in.

From the quick glances the guy kept sneaking up at us, it wasn’t hard to tell he knew who we were, and the knowledge made me stand a little taller.

The clerk was kind of cute, but underdressed. He really needed to learn to accessorize. “Those are nice bracelets,” I pointed out the leather wristbands under the counter. “The black one would go with your outfit today.”

“Oh.” He looked startled, but then he cast a quick smile. “Yeah, it would. Thanks. I always feel too gaudy.”

Gideon snorted. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s not gaudy unless it’s pink and sparkly. And even then…”

I laughed, nodding in agreement.

The clerk handed over the bag and announced the total, and Gideon paid with a careless swipe of his credit card, and then we were back out on the street.

“Breakfast? I’m going to faint if I have to watch one more passerby get starstruck by you,” he teased.

I stared around the sidewalk, then looked back at him, raising my brows.

“Oh, you’re bad at noticing it. You haven’t gone full-out diva yet.” He winked. “Come on, this way. Ice cream cookie sandwiches. You’re not allowed to count calories today. Tomorrow, you can worry about that shit.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my stomach was grumbling. Christ, I hadn’t had enough calories in about a week.

“That sounds… incredible. Ice cream?”

“Vegan ice cream.”

That sounded slightly healthier, at least. I was sold. “Yes, sir,” I agreed with a quick nod. I followed Gideon down the street, trying not to stare at the open-air market we passed on our way to a bridge.

“Oh, cool.” I peeked over the edge to see how high we were. Not that far up. “It’s a legit… canal.”

“A legit canal.” Gideon laughed, our sides brushing as he leaned next to me. “Yeah. The locks are just there.”

“Locks?”

“Oh, boy. I’ll show you, if the timing’s right. Let’s get a sandwich and see if we get lucky. Come on, this way.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled so much. I stuck by Gideon’s side as we strode into the little market. I liked these hole-in-the-wall places.

When I got the sandwich on a flimsy paper plate, I laughed but accepted it and grabbed a napkin. I let Gideon pay for this, too, and followed him back out and around the building. Even the buildings looked old, with cobblestone courtyards and stairs. The modern signboards hung outside restaurants and shops contrasted with the architecture.

“It’s kind of higgledy-piggledy around here.”

Gideon almost choked on his cookie sandwich. “I’m sorry, what? Higgledy-piggledy?”

“It’s -- shut up,” I protested, focusing on eating instead of defending my word choice. I elbowed Gideon when I heard him still laughing around his ice cream sandwich.

The cool ice cream wasn’t even that bad on a chilly morning. It was warming up, the sun burning off the mist and clouds and soaking into my bones.

I leaned next to Gideon, careful to only rest my arms against the brick wall so I didn’t have to dry-clean the rest of my clothes later.

It took me just another minute to finish off the sandwich, I’d been so hungry. The intense sweetness of cookies and ice cream made me almost dizzy after a week of scarce and healthy foods.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gideon was licking his fingers.

My gaze fell to the spot of ice cream on his lip. Unfortunately, he swiped it off with his tongue, stealing the chance from me to be…

Romantic?

Fuck, no. This couldn’t turn into something like that. We were just hanging out as friends -- or boss and his favorite new employee.

I found a can to toss my trash into, then returned to Gideon’s side, leaning against the brick.

“Look, there’s a boat,” he pointed out. “We can watch.”

My eyes sharpened with interest as I watched the crew work on the boat. They maneuvered the narrowboat into the box, then shut the doors and drained it. In my ear, Gideon murmured quiet explanations of the principles at work.

“Huh,” I murmured, watching the boat sink in its little stone and metal prison. When it was all the way down, the doors swung open. “And people just go around doing that?”

Gideon laughed. “Not as a commute, but yeah, some people do live on boats.”

“Like in California, only they do that on the ocean.”

“Yeah.” Gideon pushed himself away from the wall again and slid his arm around my shoulders. “You know, not everything compares to the US.”

“Ohhh, like you’re not American, too,” I scoffed.

“I have dual citizenship.”

“What?” I exclaimed. “Wait, how?”

“One of my parents was British. I spent some time here. And they like giving passports to guys like me. It’s useful, for business purposes.”

Oh. I rubbed my chin, then nodded. “Cool. I forget how billionaires and shit live sometimes.”

“Don’t say that. You might be, too, someday soon.”

My jaw nearly dropped for the second time in under a minute. He wasn’t correcting me. Holy shit, was Gideon that rich? In any case, he had millions.

And he thought I was good enough to be one, too?

Fuck, yes. My career was looking up.

We went for noodles after that, talking idly about our favorite moments from the past week. Gideon had attended most of the shows -- some womenswear, as well as menswear -- and had opinions on everyone. He didn’t share most of them directly, but he was able to subtly convey his less-than-impressed thoughts on some models with his expressions.

I found it hilarious. Gideon had done so well as a model from his classically blank, beautiful model pout, but there was so much life in his face. He just usually kept it hidden behind his CEO persona.

By the time we walked back toward the tube station, our hands were brushing each time we swung our arms, and neither of us was pulling back from the touch.

I almost dreaded the return to reality -- the shuttle ride, then the flight to New York City, and its grungy, familiar streets.

Nothing was going to be the same anymore.