Exposed (2 page)

S
hit
, this kid had balls.

All Briar knew about Gabriel was that he was blessed with the kind of looks that had got him in the front door, apparently had relevant experience, and was fueled with the bravado and arrogance of a twenty-two-year-old for whom the doors of the city would open in a flash… bedroom or boardroom.

The first part was the most important to Briar.

He’d walked in right when Gabriel was sassing Dayne, implying that he should check his résumé rather than ask stupid questions.

Briar kind of liked that attitude, as much as he hated to admit it. He recognized it in himself; it was what had grown Exposed so fast. He’d been pretty young—just about this guy’s age—when he’d started the business. At twenty-seven now, that hadn’t been
that
long ago.

In his early twenties, Briar hadn’t had as many friends or contacts as most other agencies. He’d just acted like an important CEO—too important for everyone—for a couple of years. Then, the agency
had
become important.

Fake it ’till you make it.

Gabriel clearly thought he was too good for expense reports. Briar was inclined to agree—at least, for now, he was too pretty for them.

The consultant last year had
insisted
Briar look for an assistant of his own within the next eight months, rather than micromanaging his own affairs. It was the next phase in growth. Even a modest increase in his productivity would, apparently, pay for an assistant’s salary.

But Briar
liked
booking his own flights, calling his friends and business contacts at other companies to get in touch directly, and fuck it, ordering his own lunches. He wasn’t lazy.

On the contrary, growing up, he’d been called a higher-functioning kid. Briar had always
needed
to stay busy to keep himself sane.

In the last few months, that had become especially true.

He pulled his thoughts away from himself to take in Gabriel as the little blond spitfire rose to his feet.

God, he was pretty. He had full, pink lips and long lashes—the kind that looked great wrapped around his cock and peering up at him for approval, respectively.

He was thin—maybe a bit too thin. Model-wannabe? As he held out his slender hand to shake, Briar’s eyes fell to the slender fingers and limp wrist. He screamed
gay
from about the other side of the city.

And those baby-blue eyes were captivating. Briar examined them for long moments, trying to guess what was going through his mind.

“Gabriel Hunter.”

“So I’ve heard,” Briar told him, keeping his voice soft and not confrontational. He was intrigued by this guy’s attitude. Another hot, firebrand young stallion raging against the world, but there was intelligence behind his eyes, whatever vain fashionista gay he liked to play the part of.

Interesting.

“Is this the final interview, then?” Gabriel asked, his long fingers sliding just a little too far down Briar’s palm. Soft fingertips pressed to his wrist for a moment before Gabriel’s palm lined up with Briar’s for a single slow handshake.

Shit, this guy wanted him, and the feeling was mutual. Briar was aware that Dayne was watching them, so he stuck to one handshake before dropping Gabriel’s hand. He circled around the desk and leaned on the side of it, shaking his head once when Dayne tried to rise to offer his chair.

“Carry on,” he told Dayne.

Dayne looked unnerved by his presence, which was slightly amusing. Even though Briar worked from the office whenever possible to keep everyone familiar with him and keep the tight ship running, he had a public image that intimidated a lot of guys.

“So,” Dayne told Gabriel as he sank back into his chair and sprawled, knees apart and one heel braced on the ground, “you have fashion experience and admin experience… but not both at once. You haven’t been an exec assistant in a modeling agency before, specifically?”

“According to my résumé, no.”

Briar bit back a smile. Jesus, this guy had attitude.

Dayne quickly glanced down his résumé again, then nodded. “Right. That was a rhetorical question.”

“Sorry.” Gabriel didn’t sound sorry. “I won’t answer it, then.”

A muscle twitched in Dayne’s jaw as he glanced up at Briar as if to say,
See?

When he’d heard about this guy from Dayne—a quick “perfect fit, great image, but too much attitude” on his way to the waiting room—Briar had stopped Dayne from sending him home.

Briar had wanted to see this for himself.

Briar didn’t need an assistant. Might as well have a pretty face hanging out, and a clever brain that could keep up with his repartee. And he liked to be entertained.

God, he was glad he’d come. Dayne wasn’t his favorite employee. He was a bit too uptight for Briar’s liking. He didn’t like the close bonds that invariably formed in offices full of attractive gay men with a lot of testosterone and constant tight deadlines.

He really didn’t like Briar dating the interns.

Fine. This guy wasn’t an intern. Briar’s lips twitched into another smile as he nodded back at Dayne as if to approve.

Dayne’s eyes widened slightly, and then he glanced back at Gabriel. “Right. Well, your criminal records check needs to process—”

“I can wait,” Gabriel informed him.

Dayne sat up a bit straighter, his chest swelling.

Oh, here goes.
Briar hid his smile expertly and folded his hands in his lap to watch the lecture.

“It’s important in this office that we have a team attitude at all times. We provide business-to-business services, after all. We’re hiring out models to others’ projects. If something goes wrong on our end, we can destroy another company’s reputation.”

Gabriel was listening, however much he fiddled with his fingers and examined the perfectly manicured nails.

“So, in your dealings with other employees, clients, models… it’s critical you have the utmost professionalism while conveying the company image.”

“The same sort of image as your front-desk secretary?” Gabriel spoke up, the question seemingly innocent enough.

Holy shit, that was a loaded question.

Samuel had been hired specifically because he was an excellent gatekeeper. You had to be able to play rough with him to get in to see anyone at short notice without an appointment.

He had a generally surly attitude toward strangers, though he could switch into instant flattery to woo their existing models and clients.

And Samuel got a little more… standoffish… toward the new models.

It was good, because it kept clueless new walk-ins away. On the other hand, he might have thought Gabriel wanted to be a new face.

Briar couldn’t blame Samuel for thinking that. Gabriel
did
have the right cheekbones, the right build, the right way of carrying himself…

He’d be killer on the runway. So what the fuck was he doing here?

“I don’t know if this will work—” Dayne started to speak up, but Briar interrupted him.

“Could we have a minute, please?”

That was directed at Dayne, not Gabriel.

Dayne stared back at him for a minute, then slowly flipped the folder on his desk shut and rose to his feet. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” Briar waited patiently for a few moments, until Dayne brushed past him and out the door and the door clicked shut.

Gabriel stayed where he was, still sprawling with his knees apart and a hand on the back of his head, tangled in his close-cropped blond hair and fidgeting with just a bit of the longer hair on top.

This was going to be fun.

Briar shifted around the edge of the desk until he sat right in front of Gabriel, perched on the edge with his legs apart and hands casually braced on the desk. It forced Gabriel to sit up straighter and look further up unless he wanted to stare Briar right in the crotch.

Gabriel took his time dragging his gaze up Briar’s body until he looked him in the eye, which was more courtesy than he’d shown Dayne.

Briar’s lips twitched into another amused smile. He had a crazy idea, and Dayne was gonna hate him for it.

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

Gabriel’s face was carefully cool as he listened to Briar. The way Briar was watching him, his chin tilted up slightly in one more subtle display of dominance, told him Briar was hiding his real feelings—whatever they were—too. That was the essence of being professional, after all: saying one thing to your colleagues while thinking of creative ways to kill them.

But Briar was saying he wasn’t suited for the office?

“Why are you here and not on a runway somewhere?”

Gabriel’s heart pounded. Briar wasn’t engaging with his bravado or indulging his 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 Gabriel appreciated that.

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

But Briar’s eyes were on his own right now, piercing straight through every layer of cool, hip fashion expert and professional executive assistant Gabriel tried to project.

Yes, Gabriel 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 Gabriel were one. Everyone here had to be damn good, and
know
they were good.

So Gabriel decided the moment he put together his fake résumé that he had to fake it ’till he made it.

Gabe knew the moment he lost; his face must have flickered with a trace of the truth, because Briar leaned forward slightly.

He swallowed hard. The taste of humility in his mouth soured his tongue, but he made himself speak through it anyway, his fingers stroking the wrinkles out of his jeans around his knees. “Got bills I need to pay.”

“If you’re looking to get rich quick, you’ll be working for your paychecks around here,” Briar warned him. “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.” Gabriel’s lip curled. He’d considered escorting, sure. What good-looking guy his age with his income—zilch—hadn’t?

But he wasn’t that badly-off. Yet.

Briar 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 Jordan and I were supposed to go places together.

Briar was watching him closely.

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

Gabe bit back the honest, stinging truth. He rolled the words around his mouth before swallowing them.

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

Briar seemed satisfied with the answer. He nodded slightly. “Well… it’s gonna piss Dayne off, but I’ll have you.”

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

Oh, fuck.

Gabriel’s eyes dropped for a moment, down Briar’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 2013
Swish
shoot for the premier gay fashion magazine. But Gabriel had looked at that photo enough to imagine them under his silky shirt. God, he wanted to touch it and feel it slipping through his fingers as he unbuttoned it…

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

Or the fuck.

The way he’d phrased it, Gabriel wasn’t sure which he was offering. He’d take both.

“When are you free to start?”

Gabriel swallowed hard. “Now.”

Briar slowly pushed himself up to his feet, not backing off. His knees brushed the insides of Gabriel’s as he stood in front of him, staring down at him.

Gabriel’s eyes stayed fixed on his crotch for a few pointed moments before he leaned back again, rolling his head back for a lazy look up Briar’s body toward his face again. That was a bit more professional.

Briar’s broad hand cupped his cheek. The warm, firm touch scraped along his beard shadow. Then, that broad thumb rested on his cheekbone.

Gabriel swallowed again. Briar wasn’t pulling back, those bright eyes never looking away.

“You’re interesting.”

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

Wait. He should accept it without thanks, like he knew how hot he was. He didn’t want to need Briar’s praise.

But by the time he’d decided that, Briar pulled back, stepping around his chair and letting his hand trail up his bicep and over his shoulder. Briar stopped to lean over him and murmured, “See you tomorrow.”

Then Briar’s hand slid off him and he was gone, leaving Gabriel breathless and almost frozen in his chair.

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

Then the door clicked shut again, a noise Gabriel was now familiar with. It wasn’t Briar’s spicy-sweet cologne he smelled, though, but Dayne’s fresh, cold-watery scent.

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

Ooh, Dayne was
pissed
. Gabriel resisted the urge to grin when Dayne slid a pen toward him, then started slapping papers in front of him to sign.

Rent? Paid. Damn, I’m good.