“What do you think about having Hughie take him over, Raymond? He’s a big enough star now… I think you’ve done your job.”

Raymond clicked his tongue, looking first at Hughie, the head of our top talent department. Then, he glanced back to me.

He didn’t seem to want to speak his mind; I knew that expression by now.

“Honestly?” he answered after a minute. “Leo’s the biggest pain in my ass, but he is sweet underneath all that bullshit. I worry about him.”

Paul, who was on Raymond’s other side, looked pointedly at me and raised a brow. I hoped my cheeks weren’t too red. I hadn’t told him anything at all that had happened between Leonel and I, but Paul had his guesses.

“Hmm,” I hummed. I slowed as we approached the side door to the hotel, then reached out to shake hands with Raymond. “Well said. We’ll talk about it after this week.”

He was looking over his shoulder, though. The unmistakable shocked, worried expression on his face made me glance back just in time to catch a familiar face ducking into the building.

Fucking Alex. I should’ve known he’d be here.

“Why’s he here?” I flatly demanded.

Raymond grimaced. “I checked the lists… he’s on tonight.”

“For his boyfriend?” Paul murmured, casting me a quick apologetic glance.

“Hayden Chaney,” I muttered. “The two of them are good together, though. Pair of assholes.”

“He’s arriving pretty early.” Paul frowned. “If he’s on this evening only…”

There were photographers nearby starting to look at us, so I clapped Raymond’s shoulder. “Whatever. Go on in, get our guys out there. See you backstage afterward.”

I smiled briefly at the cameras when they turned to me and put my arm around Paul and Hughie, clapping both their backs and leading them straight down the red carpet.

We ignored the general line and the cellphone camera flashes and noise coming from the general public, heading straight inside.

“Mr. Hale. You and your associates are seated through that way, but you’re a bit early. If you’d care to enjoy a drink first, the bar is through this way, sir.”

I smiled at the pleasant usher who was addressing me. “Thank you. Paul? Hughie?”

“Drinks sound great,” Hughie said in agreement.

“I think you could use one,” Paul added. He clapped my back and led the way to the bar.

“The show after ours is Hayden Chaney,” Paul hissed into my ear as he dropped into the seat next to mine -- pleasingly close to the front left of the stage, where the more important guests sat.

“No shit,” I whispered back. “That’s why Alex is here.”

“No, but he was invited here.”

I saw his point. I’d assumed the little leech was scraping together funds to pay for his own show, pay his own celebs to attend… but no. Of fucking course not. He and Hayden had wormed their way in somehow, despite deserving to be stuck in little regional shows.

Maybe it was thanks to Alex. He could suck dick and get Hayden an invitation.

I tried to calm myself down. Since the show was supposed to start about now, we only had fifteen, twenty minutes at most to wait, then another twenty minutes before it was over and I could head backstage.

Now that I knew Alex was probably backstage with Leonel, my suspicions were piqued. It wasn’t like Leonel’s past with Hayden was that secret. I wanted a chat with him before we shuttled him off for Giuseppe’s show later this afternoon.

I folded my arms tightly as the lights went down and the music volume increased. By this point, it was hard to impress me with any particularly new concepts, but the lighting was nice.

And there was Leonel, walking out first with all eyes on him and muted gasps. He was practically shirtless, the shirt on him was so flowing and loose and thin, highlighting the black, thin leggings clinging to his calves. With each step, his heeled boots stomped across the stage, his shoulders thrown back and head up.

That spark of defiance burned brighter than ever, his jawline magnificent.

The camera shutters clicked from everywhere as music droned in the background, but my focus was utterly on the sex appeal that dripped from Leonel’s loosely-curled fingertips and shone from those bright eyes.

I suspected I wasn’t the only one who wanted that intense fuck me gaze to be turned to me.

But Leonel stopped at the end of the runway, threw his head another half-inch back and jutted his hip, turned his face left and right, and then he was walking back down toward me.

I could have sworn his eyes flickered to me in passing, but that was probably a trick of the light.

I let out a breath once he had passed me and was backstage, finally paying attention to the other models.

They were all good -- no, great. Every one of them commanded silence from the audience and rapt attention, but none of them was Leonel.

I averted my gaze to someone else when he came out the second time, but it was no use -- I was staring like a schoolboy, my fingers tightly curled around my phone in my pocket for something to hold onto.

What goes through his head? What does he focus on? The questions were only natural. Most of all, I wanted to know if he was still pissed at me.

It was a stupid, childish worry. I’d had much worse fights with people during fashion month and we just never talked about it again. It was mutually understood to be everyone cracking under the pressure of the month.

But Leonel was still new, and struggling with a rapidly swelling ego. He might well take everything way more personally than it had been meant.

I almost tuned out the rest of the show until ten minutes later, when Paul clasped and shook my knee to get my attention for the finale parade.

Leonel glowed with pride at the applause. The sparkle in his eye made me envy him for just a moment, remembering that overwhelming relief and satisfaction. It didn’t matter how many dozens or hundreds of shows I’d done… I’d always felt that glow of pride in a job well done after every one.

I had to talk to him now, with Alex or not, or seeing him at the presentation later was going to be intense.

Once the lights went up, I slapped Paul’s shoulder lightly. “See? Another show under our belts.”

“They did great.”

Hughie nodded. “Joaquín, especially.”

I hadn’t even noticed, but I nodded, too. “All of them,” I said with a wink.

“Of course. All of them.” Paul smirked.

I rose to my feet. “Right. I’m going to have a word with them backstage. I should be able to catch Leonel, at least. He’s got a couple hours before he has to be driven to the presentation, right? The ride’s already booked?”

“Yep,” Paul confirmed, pulling up the calendar on his phone. “Still can’t believe they only wanted him and a few of my boys. Really wanted to keep the budget down.”

I rolled my eyes. “We’re thinking twice about letting them hire us next year, then,” I murmured under my breath while the other guys leaned in.

Paul nodded. “But the exposure…”

That was part of the plan -- giving our lesser known models the chance to shine. Sure, I had Joaquín and Hunter as top models, and then a couple mid-tier guys. But male models didn’t get paid as well. The industry was a lot harder to dominate the way I needed to in order to keep Prestige profitable, not just famous. If I could have two superstars signed at once…

I sighed and nodded. “Right. I guess. Okay, I gotta go.”

“Want me to come along?” Paul offered while Hughie just watched us.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “Probably best not to. Don’t want him feeling cornered again -- ah, I mean, yeah.”

Paul eyed me but nodded. “You know where to find us.” He led Hughie off toward the bar again while I strode out through the lobby and around to the door backstage.

The security let me through with a nod. That was one of the perks of fame -- no longer having to show ID.

Leonel was almost there, too.

It was almost unprecedented, except by himself, of course. Over the course of the month, he had become the darling of the fashion world. Everyone saw him as my protégé, even if I’d never actually mentored him.

Backstage was way more fun than the audience. The area was shared by several ballrooms and presentation rooms, meaning there were designers flying in and out of dressing rooms, PAs desperately seeking spare needles or missing accessories, and makeup artists patting powder into their palms while looking harried.

I strode to Leonel’s dressing room, knocking on the half-closed door and pushing it open.

“I fuckin’ told you, Raymond--”

Leonel was half-dressed, shirtless and in his regular jeans as he spun on his heel to face the door, his phone in his hand. The second he saw me, his words died and his eyes widened, a flicker of fear in them.

Shit. That wasn’t right. I frowned and slowly entered the room, then pushed the door shut behind me. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” He let out a quick sigh, the expression gone again, hidden behind a face of boredom and annoyance at the interruption.

“I heard Alex and Hayden are around, doing the next show.”

It hadn’t been hard to learn about Leonel’s past connection to Hayden. I had found out almost right away. I felt bad -- by all accounts, the guy was as much an asshole as Alex.

Leonel bit his tongue and nodded once, but he looked wary. “If you’ve come to bond over shitty exes, it’s not a good time.”

“When is? Tonight?” I suggested, smirking slightly. “I wanna know what Alex has said to you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What business is it of yours?”

Whoa. That was defensive. I folded my arms and leaned against the door, keeping my distance so I didn’t make him feel more cornered than he already was.

“Has he been approaching you about his agency? Because I’d be really fucking surprised if he doesn’t want to take away the best thing I’ve got.”

My heart did a weird leap when the words spilled out of my lips. I didn’t usually talk without thinking, but fuck, it was easy to take that more than one way.

And it wasn’t untrue. I hadn’t even kissed another guy since Leonel walked into the office. That was commitment like I hadn’t shown anyone since Alex. Leonel just didn’t know yet.

“You’re jealous,” he stated flatly.

I tapped my foot against the floor slightly, then scuffed the sole of my shoe against the floor. I had to give it a moment’s thought before I rejected the idea.

Maybe he wanted that.

“A little,” I admitted, letting my gaze drag slowly down that sculpted torso to find Leonel’s bulge pressed among the folds of his too tight jeans, then back up to his face. “So, speaking of bonding over shitty exes… we could do it now, somewhere else. You have a break before the presentation.”

“You’re hitting on me.” That was another flat statement, hard to read. He shifted his weight onto one hip, folding his arms across his chest, his thumbs swiping his chest near his nipples.

I paused and lifted a brow. Awfully formal. Then, I nodded.

“Fuck off,” he snapped and turned on his heel to sort through his bag for a t-shirt. He held one up to his chest, then opted for another. “And tell Raymond that Paul and I will be back in fuckin’ time. We’re not preschoolers.”

There was another knock on the door, and I dragged a hand down my face. We didn’t have time to talk through whatever was pissing him off.

I pulled the door open and nodded as Raymond swept inside.

I sighed. “Okay, you guys can go, if you’re back at the hotel in time for your ride.”

Leonel grabbed his bag and breezed out without another word, his arm brushing along mine on the way out.

I tried to tamp down the shiver of pure want that passed through me at the musky, sweet, spicy smell of him and the warmth of his arm brushing along mine. It sort of worked.

“Joaquín! Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” I heard him yell outside. Then Joaquín’s voice, saying something that made Leonel laugh in that high-pitched, fake tone that made me cringe.

Once the two models were gone, I raised my eyebrows at Raymond.

“Yeah,” he laughed under his breath and rubbed his face. “Don’t ask me. I don’t know.”

“I kinda pissed him off the other night,” I admitted, my voice low. “And possibly now.”

Raymond gave me a really? look and I frowned apologetically. “Fine,” he concluded. “I’ll play it gently and let him cool off.”

“It’s show week pressure.” I rubbed my face, then reached out to slide my arm around Raymond’s shoulder and clap his back. “You’re doing an awesome job. Everything looks flawless from the audience side.”

“Not for lack of effort backstage,” he sighed tiredly, hugging me around the waist and bumping his forehead to my shoulder for a moment. “Thanks, though. That means a lot.”

I clapped his back again. “What’s next?”

“Hughie’s taking care of getting Hunter to his show.”

“Oh, right, he has that thing.” I could hardly keep track of everyone, but that was what Raymond and Hughie were for. They were damn good managers.

“So, I’ve got just about enough time to eat and shower and change before I have to get all the rest of these guys rounded up and ready for the presentation. And hopefully Leo and Joaquín show up.”

“They will,” I promised, sounding more confident than I felt. The presentation for Giuseppe and Nicolas was one of the biggest events of the week. Joaquín had been late, drugged up, or hungover a couple times in his career, especially when he was under stress.

This would be a bad time for Leonel to decide Joaquín was his role model.

But I had to trust him to make his own choices -- and mistakes -- just as he had said.

I knew before I even opened the door that it was bad fucking news. The knock on it was less of a knock and more like pounding, and it was not in Raymond’s usual rhythm.

I yanked open the hotel room door and stepped back to let him inside.

The look on his face sent a moment of pure terror through me, and I gripped the knob hard as I shut the hotel room door behind me. “What happened?”

Fuck, don’t let him be dead.

“Everyone’s fine.”

“But?” I demanded, my voice rising a few decibels as I let go of the doorknob. “Fuckin’ tell me!”

“Nobody’s even visibly injured,” he added, “but four of the guys got into a car accident. Really minor. The rental company’s pissed, that’s all.”

“Fuck’s sake, I thought you were gonna tell me they went through the windshield.” It didn’t ease my nerves at all to hear that they were uninjured. What the fuck had they been doing?

Well, I knew Joaquín. A long time ago, I’d worked -- and partied -- with him.

I had a pretty good guess.

“Jesus Christ,” I added, slapping the wall beside me and letting out a huff of breath as I tried to let my adrenaline subside. I strode past Raymond and shoved my hands into my pockets. “What happened?”

“Leo won’t talk to me. Joaquín just said he ran into a fence. Nothing else.”

“Christ.”

“They got to the presentation early and they’ve all been treated for shock just in case.” Raymond reached out to squeeze my arm. “Maybe this will be a wake-up call.”

But there was something else. He looked tense as hell considering he was trying to calm me down. “Yeah,” I whispered, then rubbed my face in frustration. “Yeah, they’ll drink it off later. And so will we.”

“Thank god. I’m starting to wonder… what the fuck am I doing?”

Oh, man. I really didn’t need this, but I could guess where it was going. “What way?”

“As in… I’m starting to think about retiring now, while I’m ahead.”

I paused for a few moments and scanned Raymond’s face. He was distraught but hiding it… actually, not that well. That was why he wasn’t on the runway himself. It was probably shock for him, too.

“Okay, don’t decide anything while you’re worked up,” I answered, keeping my voice calm and steady. I pulled him in for a quick, crushing hug. “You’re awesome for sorting all that shit out, all right? We’ll get fashion month wrapped up and then we’ll decide what to do.”

“What about Leo?”

“Who were the other guys?”

“Luca, Hunter, and Joaquín.”

Just who I’d expected, then. Luca was starting to be trouble himself. I nodded. “Worried about him more than those three?”

“Yeah, and you are, too.”

“I am,” I admitted, raising my hand to mess up my hair. “But that conversation with him can wait. He can’t go much further downhill now.”