Free Exposed by Sierra Riley

cheeks.
    “There! Now you’re ready to go!” Charlie concluded with another grin. “Well, once they fit you for sure.”
    Gabriel was getting tired of people pinching and sewing and pulling him around, dressing him like a mannequin. He was good at acting like he didn’t care, loose and pliable in the team’s hands, but underneath, he simmered with annoyance.
    Still, he let them do their jobs until he was lined up, ready and waiting for the light.
    This time, Gabriel was first.
    He’d tried to ignore Adam’s sideways glances at him when the producer had told them the lineup.
    He’d also tried not to smirk too much.
    He was good. By his second or third show, people had seen that. It was his fourth now in as many days, and he knew what to expect every step of the way.
    Sure, there were last-minute malfunctions: a jeans zipper went, a hem didn’t sit right, or a hairstyle wouldn’t cooperate until it was gelled into compliance. But they all got fixed in time by someone or other. His job was just to stand there and look pretty, and he could do that damn well.
    He strutted toward the door when his light turned green.
    The world was his stage and he was fucking rocking it.
    Gabriel was completely unfazed by the sea of faces now, and the thumping music and footsteps of the other guys behind him… it was all only a backdrop to the main attraction: him.
    One foot in front of the other, his hips and chest out, his shoulders flung back, his chin cocked, Gabriel walked.

16
Briar
    O f fucking course Gabriel was the darling of the fashion world right now. He was young, sweet-looking, and hard-edged with a streak of can’t touch this that made everyone want to.
    Briar wasn’t jealous, exactly. He’d known exactly the attention Gabriel would attract. That was why he’d picked him as a stand-in—a shoo-in, too.
    But he was intrigued by the way Gabriel invited attention, flirted with it, and then slipped away from it. He leaned on the bar, glancing across it and half the room.
    For the third time in ten minutes, someone approached Gabriel on the dance floor while he swayed left to right as if entranced by the lights. He looked worn down, but Briar only noticed this because he had watched him whenever possible for these few weeks.
    He’d been watching after shows and in crowds, where Gabriel had every inch the aloof attitude and ego of his peers, if not more. For a moment, Briar wondered if he’d made a mistake getting him into this industry. But no, it was his natural talent. He was getting a shitload of attention because he’d stolen the goddamn closing show.
    Right now, to anyone foolish enough to take Gabe at face value as even Briar first had, he just looked casually flirtatious. To those hopeful, he seemed to be awaiting approach by the right man.
    And who could blame him for being exhausted? Briar had only been through the wringer of a few years’ worth of fashion weeks as a model before making the jump to the business side. He’d never slept better than when he didn’t have worry about breaking out before he was in the makeup chair the next morning.
    Gabriel smiled and batted his lashes again, sidling on one foot as he had done for every other guy approaching him tonight. He pretended not to be interested, but this wasn’t even a pretense: this was genuine.
    Still, even if he clearly didn’t want this guy, Gabe was reveling in being wanted. It was easy to tell from the little glow around him despite his tiredness. Briar knew that exact feeling—just wanting to be wanted, even if he wasn’t particularly interested in who exactly took an interest.
    Briar bit back a laugh when the other guy turned to scout out the best spot on the floor to dance, then looked back to find Gabriel gone.
    Instead, Gabriel was weaving his way through the crowd in the private club toward him.
    Briar pushed himself away from the bar and straightened out his suit jacket with a tug, then fastened the button one-handed.
    “Don’t