Not Just A Pretty Face

3. Leonel

"I've never had a guy better-suited to the runway walk into the office and demand an admin job."

My face was carefully cool as I listened to Gideon. The way he was watching me, his chin tilted up slightly in one more subtle display of dominance, told me he was also hiding his real feelings -- whatever they were. That was the essence of being professional, after all: saying one thing to your colleagues while thinking of creative ways to kill them.

But Gideon was saying I wasn't suited for the office?

"Why are you here and not on a runway somewhere?"

My heart pounded. Gideon wasn't engaging with my bravado or indulging my ego. He was pulling some kind of sexy dominance stunt with his knees pushed apart, his cock barely hidden in his skinny trousers by the wallet in his pocket, but I appreciated that.

I still resisted giving in. I wasn't sure what I was going to say that didn't make me sound hungry for a job. As much as I loved the industry and I loved chasing models, it was the money I needed more than hot fucks.

But Gideon's eyes were on my own right now, piercing straight through every layer of cool, hip fashion expert and professional executive assistant I tried to project.

Yes, I was egotistic, but to work at a place like this, the ego had to be dialed up to eleven. There wasn't room for sweet, thoughtful guys, even if I were one. Everyone here had to be damn good, and know they were good.

So I decided the moment I put together my fake résumé that I had to fake it 'til I made it.

I knew the moment I lost; my face must have flickered with a trace of the truth, because Gideon leaned forward slightly.

I swallowed hard. The taste of humility in my mouth soured my tongue, but I made myself speak through it anyway, my fingers stroking the wrinkles out of my jeans around my knees. "Got bills I need to pay."

"If you're looking to get rich quick, you'll be working for your paychecks around here," Gideon warned me. "There's better-paying jobs a guy like you could do. You have the brains and the looks."

"I can think of exactly one other industry." My lip curled. I'd considered escorting, sure. What good-looking guy my age with my income -- zilch -- hadn't?

But I wasn't that badly off. Yet.

Gideon looked amused as he raised a brow. "I was referring to modeling, you know. You could have walked into one of our open calls. Or one of the others, from a hundred other agencies around here. Why didn't you?"

Because fuck you, that's why.

That was the easy answer. Honestly?

Because Hayden and I were supposed to go places together.

Gideon was watching me closely.

Because he only told me I was pretty enough to model for him so he could take all my money to Asia.

I bit back the honest, stinging truth. I rolled the words around my mouth before swallowing them.

Instead, I said, "People told me I could model before. I thought they were blowing smoke up my ass."

Gideon seemed satisfied with the answer. He nodded slightly. "Well... it's gonna piss Shay off, but I'll have you."

The way he said it sent heat crawling up my body. The tingle of interest started in the base of my cock, deep in my body, then ran all the way up my spine like a warm hand pulling me closer for a wet kiss...

Oh, fuck.

My eyes dropped for a moment, down Gideon's firm chest to his stomach. The fabric was too loose, too thick to see whether he still had abs like he'd had in his 2018 Swish shoot for the premier gay fashion magazine. But I had looked at that photo enough to imagine them under his silky shirt. God, I wanted to touch it and feel it slipping through my fingers as I unbuttoned it...

And then his crotch right there, just begging me to push my face into it and kiss my way up to his mouth, filthy and slow, to thank him for the job.

Or the fuck.

The way he'd phrased it, I wasn't sure which he was offering. I'd take both.

"When are you free to start?"

I swallowed hard. "Now."

Gideon slowly pushed himself up to his feet, not backing off. His knees brushed the insides of mine as he stood in front of me, staring down at me.

My eyes stayed fixed on his crotch for a few pointed moments before I leaned back again, rolling my head back for a lazy look up his body toward his face again. That was a bit more professional.

His broad hand cupped my cheek. The warm, firm touch scraped along my beard shadow. Then, that broad thumb rested on my cheekbone.

I swallowed again. Gideon wasn't pulling back, those bright eyes never looking away.

"You're interesting."

Thanks? I know? I was at a brief loss for words -- just for a second or two. I hadn't rehearsed this moment. I had no fucking idea what to do with it.

Wait. I should accept it without thanks, like I knew how hot I was. I didn't want to need Gideon's praise.

But by the time I'd decided that, he pulled back, stepping around my chair and letting his hand trail up my bicep and over my shoulder. He stopped to lean over me and murmured, "See you tomorrow."

Then his hand slid off me and he was gone, leaving me breathless and almost frozen in my chair.

I was half-hard, desperately thinking of the driest historical facts I could about the company to keep my mind distracted. That made a change from imagining sucking Gideon's cock and watching that sharp face crease with heated pleasure that he couldn't hide.

Then the door clicked shut again, a noise I was now familiar with. It wasn't Gideon's spicy-sweet cologne I smelled, though, but Shay's fresh, cold watery scent.

When he sat behind the desk, he pulled out a file folder labeled New Hires. His expression was pinched. God knew what Gideon had told him in the brief ten or twenty seconds since he'd left the room.

Yeah, Shay was pissed. I resisted the urge to grin when he slid a pen toward me, then started slapping papers in front of me to sign.

Rent? Paid. Damn, I'm good.