Brothers of Paradise Series

I grin. “I figured it might be.”

His hand clenches around mine. “Tell me what other lessons you want us to explore in Sydney.”

And so, thirty-five thousand feet in the air and above the roar of the engines, I murmur my fantasy of the two of us and a large shower into his ear, until Rhys curses against my lips and requests a distraction from the distraction.

“I can’t believe we’re in Australia and we only have two and a half days here. It feels criminal.”

“You’ll be back one day.” Rhys keeps a hand on my back as we walk down the hotel corridor.

“You think?”

“Absolutely. Come on,” he says, leaning down to brush his lips against my ear, “can you honestly tell me you’re ready to return to New York and settle down for good? To never travel again?”

A shiver runs down my spine that has little to do with his words and lots to do with his warm breath on my earlobe. “No,” I whisper. “I’m not.”

He presses the button to the elevator. After a full day of traveling, the two of us are ready to explore Sydney by evening and find a place to eat. The Rieler hotels might have terrific dining, but we’ve both agreed we’re done with that. The streets of the city beckon instead.

“I’ve been thinking about our discussion on social media,” I tell him, leaning into his side in the elevator.

“You have?”

“Yes. And I’m going to start being more real. More behind-the-scenes, talking about things that matter to me. Post less pictures of me that are staged or posed.”

Rhys’s hand curves around my hip. “And your agency?”

Looking him straight in the eye, I smile. “Fuck my agency.”

He grins wide at that. “Ivy, have I been a bad influence?”

“Perhaps, but I’m starting to like it.”

He tips my head back and presses a kiss to my lips. I’m dimly aware of the elevator doors sliding open, but they’re secondary to the feel of his mouth on mine.

“Good thinking,” he says finally, pulling me with him out of the elevator. But there’s someone standing there waiting for us, someone in a suit.

Ben Rieler, to be exact.

And he’s grinning.

“Hello you two,” he says. “Care for dinner, or am I interrupting your plans?”

I step out of Rhys’s arms. He just inclines his head. “Ben.”

“I came to join the two of you for the final leg of your trip.” His eyes sparkle as he looks between the two of us. “I’m glad to see you’re getting along.”Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

I feel nauseous.

This man is the one hiring my agency, and by extension me. And he just saw me getting chummy with the photographer. It’s nothing new, nothing that doesn’t happen over and over and over again in the modeling world, but it has never been me. I have never been cast in this role before.

I’ve been so careful to never be this kind of model.

Ben pulls Rhys in for a half-hug. It’s a familiar motion, the one men do when they know one another well.

“You flew out to Sydney just for us?” Rhys asks. There’s tension in his voice. He can’t be happy that our employer saw us, either.

Ben snorts. “No, I have more faith in you than that. We’re expanding out of Sydney, so I came here for meetings and to view the properties up in Queensland. Figured I’d catch up with my favorite photographer-model duo while I’m here.” He smiles at me. “How have you been, Ivy?”

I knot my hands together. “Great. Your hotels and staff have been wonderful.”

It’s flattery. It’s the truth. And I’m just glad I’ve managed to speak around the lump of horror in my stomach that he saw us, Rhys and me.

“Good,” Ben says, “because I gave the entire company strict instructions to provide you the best experience possible.”

“Well, you succeeded.” Rhys’s tone of voice is impossible to decipher.

We walk to a nearby restaurant, apparently one of Sydney’s best, if Ben’s to be believed. My running shoes still have the red clay of Kenya stuck to the sides, and the jeans I’m wearing aren’t fit for linen-clothed tables. The plan to walk down to the Opera House has been abandoned entirely.

Rhys might be comfortable around Ben, but I’m not.

I smile at the waiter who pulls back my chair. The men follow suit, and it’s not long until Ben has ordered us a bottle of Australian white wine.

“They have some good ones down here,” he tells us, and Rhys gives a small hum.

“Yes, well, I know you don’t agree,” Ben says. “Sometimes you really do have the French mindset.”

“Something was bound to rub off,” Rhys comments, looking through his menu.

I look at mine unseeing, my fingers toying with the edge of the paper. My eyes fixate on the prices. It’s more than the per diem Rieler allowed for the trip, but it’s a small worry in what feels like an ocean of mistakes.

We order. Ben leans back in his chair, draping his arm over the one next to him, and looks at me with a smile. “Ivy, how have you enjoyed traveling with Rhys here? Has he been behaving himself?”

Rhys shakes his head, muttering something that sounds like, “Christ, Ben.”

“It’s been good,” I say, the most noncommittal answer I can think of. “He’s really knowledgeable about the places we’ve visited, which I think has led to some great shots. In Bali, for example, he knew the location of a waterfall without any other tourists.”

Ben looks over at Rhys. “All your traveling has come in handy.”

“So has my shooting. We’ve gotten some excellent footage.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

I take a sip of my wine. “You two know each other well?”

Rhys opens his mouth to speak, but Ben is the one who responds. “Oh, we do. We went to college together.”

“You did?” I glance over at Rhys. “Where?”

“Yale,” Ben replies, thanking the waiter when our food is delivered. “Although we only got the first two years together.”