“We’d be delighted to hire your guys.”

I jerked my head in a quick nod, like I’d expected nothing less. This was one of the top menswear designers in the world, and I was collaborating with one of my first fashion school friends in a world premier, and he wanted us.

Prestige couldn’t go much higher.

It was such a first-world problem -- being so good that there wasn’t much room for upward growth.

“On one condition. We don’t want that guy.” Sascha pushed aside one of the comp cards. “We want Leonel James.”

“Paul can get in touch about his requirements,” I told him smoothly, glancing between him and Giuseppe. The other man didn’t quite live up to his namesake, but he was equally renowned for his skill behind the scenes.

“He killed it in London. We have to have him in Paris.”

“We have him booked for several runway shows, three catalogs, some public appearances…” I trailed off. “He’s in the middle of another show right now.”

“We can pay extra.”

“Paul?”

Paul took over negotiations as I leaned back, folding my arms as I watched them duke it out. Paul wasn’t going to be able to keep a hold of Leonel much longer. He was going to be recruited for our top talent department soon -- Hughie was champing at the bit to represent Leonel now.

And having him was helping us, too.

I heard the whispers, that Prestige was powerful enough to pick talent off the street and give them a superstar career within a New York City minute. That was more or less what had happened already, and it was having a ripple effect.

Marketing was losing their mind over the best way to exploit this. I hadn’t had so many back-to-back meetings with important people in the industry in years.

“Can we get back to you tonight on that?”

Paul hummed skeptically and looked at me.

I knew what to do. I shook my head. “I’m meeting the editors at Undressed tonight.” The premier menswear magazine had a centerfold of male models down to their underwear along with photos of them fully-dressed, showing the versatility of their sponsoring underwear brands. No leg lines, yadda yadda.

It was my job to sell them on Leonel, too, and I had a feeling it would be an easy sell.

“Fine. We’ll take him.”

“Now, let’s talk about Paris.”

I folded my hands and leaned in, waiting to see what they had to say. No matter what they proposed, I sensed an exclusive representation deal in the works.

I wanted every single model on the runway for Sascha and Giuseppe in Paris, the final of the four big fashion weeks, to be one of my Prestige guys. I wanted to sweep the damn runway this year.

Now that everyone was desperate to have Leonel, he was my carrot and my stick.