"Mr. Bale, sir!" Stephan called out. "I'm sorry to bother you- I know you just got back from lunch. But the model you're supposed to meet came a little early. I'm afraid there's not enough time to brief you on him. He's waiting for you in your office."

"No worries, Steph. Thanks for letting me know."

Alessandro looked into his office through its glass doors. He saw someone sitting in the chair directly across from his desk.

They were wearing a black leather jacket, dark blue jeans, and black calf high boots. Based on the position, it seemed like they were leaning their arms against their knees.

A pale hand was brought up to scratch the back of their head. The action revealed a vibrant purple spider tattoo. Shoulder length hair was pulled into a half-up-half-down style. A pair of shades rested on top of the thick strands.

Wanting to come off as friendly to a potential new employee, Alessandro pulled on a large smile that reached his eyes. He opened the doors to his office and brought his attention to the coat rack to put down his belongings.

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting! Traffic on the way back to the office was a nightmare. Have you been here long?"

"No."

"Ah, that's good. Wouldn't want to inconvenience anyone."

Alessandro turned around, aiming to walk forward to greet the model. But he stopped.

Their attention was already on him.

Bright blue studs sat in both ears. Long bangs framed a defined, cleanly shaven face. A small clear gem rested in the upper left nostril of a thin nose. Pink lips were enhanced by a dark birthmark that rested on the bottom one.

Bluish gray eyes stared directly into wide green ones.

"Lance..?"

"In the flesh, Alessandro."

"I... didn't know you were a model."

"Don't know why you would."

Alessandro had a plethora of things to say—things he wanted to do.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to faint. His mind was moving way too fast for him to comprehend because what in the absolute hell was Lance, of all people, doing here?

A single deep breath helped to calm Alessandro down. The fleeting want to express his feelings about their unexpected meeting was pushed aside.

Overwhelming emotions left as soon as a false smile grew. "Right, well, you're here now- so let's chat."

He walked over to his desk with long strides. The sound of his Oxford's hitting the floor seemed louder than normal alongside such a thick atmosphere. He sat down in his chair and slid forward. His arms rested on the glass surface. Large hands gripped each other a little too harshly.

Neither male said anything about it.

"How long have you been modeling for?"

"About three years. Haven't done anything super crazy though. With your company being one of the top ones in the world, well, I thought it'd be good for me to come here."

"Hopefully it will be." Alessandro offered a short nod. "Mind giving me your portfolio?"

Instead of verbally replying, Lance presented the manila colored folder using the hand which housed the spider tattoo. Alessandro reached forward. Their fingers brushed against each other. Despite the action being quick and only lasting a second, it left his skin feeling tingly.

The first picture inside of the folder was of Lance's headshot. His expression was neutral. Loose strands of hair framed either side of his face. He was looking over his shoulder, and those familiar eyes were staring straight into the camera. Right at Alessandro.

He continued flipping through pictures to escape the piercing gaze in the photograph. Unfortunately, he couldn't escape the one that was boring into him from across the desk.

Every subsequent photo offered something new in terms of Lance's abilities as a model.

One picture showed him sitting in a wooden chair. He was clad in black stirrup leggings and a gray vest that revealed the soft muscles of his chest and upper abs. His legs were splayed out. A long torso was leaning back and slightly to the side. Black strands of hair covered one eye as his head was propped against his left shoulder.

Somehow, the position seemed comfortable. Natural, even. Underlying sensuality was depicted even without a large amount of skin showing.

Another photo showed Lance as he was looking out of a window. He was leaning against the  surface while in an outfit that mirrored the one he was wearing to the interview. Long shadows danced along his skin.

Glass was littered with bright raindrops, and a streetlamp from outside brought yellow tinted light in. The bright color highlighted the intense hue of a pair of captivating eyes.

Despite an inky looking background, Lance's choice of pose allowed him to stand out triumphantly thanks to the additional lighting in front of him. 

There was another picture of him at the beach. He was sitting in the sand with his bare lower legs covered in the rough, grainy substance. A pair of dark purple swimming trunks were his only form of clothing. His chest was partially hidden as he was leaning against his knees. A pronounced clavicle with a tribal snake tattoo swirling around it could partially be seen. Untamed locks of hair were pushed back, revealing his forehead.

He was looking off toward an out of frame sunset. Bright orange gave life to his pale features. A small, playful grin was plastered on his face as well.

Lance's expression was endearing, and his smile painted him as a more tender individual; a feature that was interesting to see since his tattoos made him appear more rough.

Alessandro was honestly surprised—Lance was a stunning model.

A lax posture screamed confidence. Bluish gray eyes surrounded him with an air of mystery. Vibrant tattoos brought additional flare to otherwise pale skin. Soft muscles could be seen, no matter what type of outfit he was wearing. His smile, when it was present, was alluring and believable. It transfixed the viewer.

But even with such a seemingly experienced model, the pictures themselves were unbalanced. Amateurish, even. A lot of the clothes didn't always seem like they were Lance's style.

Going based off of his current wardrobe, of course. And most certainly not because of a dormant memory of how he used to dress back in the day.

"You certainly seem to know what you're doing," Alessandro commended, "but it doesn't really seem like... you. Striped brown, green, and purple don't seem like something you'd willingly wear. Especially not on a skin tight romper."

"And how would you know that?" Lance raised an eyebrow.

"Just a hunch."

He frowned. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but ultimately decided not to.

Alessandro chose not to comment when bluish gray eyes darted to the side for a second.

"A lot of that stuff isn't my style. But amateur work was all I could really get. I needed to build up a portfolio some way."

"And there's nothing wrong with that. The clothes don't seem very you; but you know how to make them work. You know how to make them fit your aesthetic. That's what matters here. You could've told me that you took these pictures in your kitchen with a cellphone, and I wouldn't really care. As long as it seems like you know what you're doing—which it does."

"How flattering."

He didn't miss the underlying venom that laced those words. A cognizant decision was made to not acknowledge the harsh tone.

"What are you hoping to gain by working for this company?"

"Just hoping to expand my horizons in terms of the modeling business. Working under a popular, successful company would do wonders for my résumé."

"Are you aware that the Bale agency works under contractual agreement?"

"I am."

"Are you aware that these are annual contractual agreements?"

"Yes."

"Lance"—Alessandro's grin fell as he leaned against his desk— "I'm just saying this because I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Considering how we... parted ways... I don't want that to get in the way of a peaceful coexistence in terms of work life."

"It's only a problem if you make it a problem."

"Seems you've beat me in that regard."

Lance paused. He licked his lips. His eyes narrowed after he cleared his throat.

"Alessandro-"

"It's understandable. I'm not saying that you have to like me. But I want us to at least be able to sit in the same room without trading blows- metaphorically, of course." His smile gained a bit more life as an idea popped into his head. "Perhaps we could meet at some point to catch up? Y'know, give ourselves a chance to bury the hatchet."

"Catch up?" Lance chuckled halfheartedly. "I don't know if Mrs. Bale would be too keen on you meeting up and having dinner with your ex."

"Well, I guess it's fortunate that there is no Mrs. Bale."

"Another Mr. Bale then?"

Alessandro shook his head.

"Really? A bachelor like yourself isn't married? What about all the fame, status, and fortune? I'd think that would be a huge plus for you in terms of dating."

"I'm not a bachelor."

"Right." Lance sucked his teeth. "Could've fooled me considering how things ended up with Kassandra-"

"I don't know what she has to do with any of this. We're not together. I don't talk about her. I'd appreciate it if you didn't either," Alessandro interrupted. A tone of finality left little room to make a rebuttal. "I don't think my romantic life is something that's appropriate to talk about."

"And I don't think spending time with you outside of work would be appropriate, but here we are."

Uncomfortable silence permeated throughout the office. Both men pulled their gazes toward other random points in the room. Alessandro's attention stayed transfixed on an electric stapler near his elbow. Small scratches on the sleek metal seemed a lot more interesting than they ever had been before.

"I'm just trying to give us the opportunity to start things anew," he tried again with a patient voice. "You have every right to hate me. I'm not even saying that you shouldn't. What I am saying though, is that we need some form of closure here. I need to know that our history won't get in the way of either of us doing our jobs."

"Yeah? And why should I meet with you?"

"Well, considering I'm a potential employer for you, maybe it'd be beneficial for me to know that I can trust you. If I feel like I can't, I'm sorry, but I won't sign off on having you work here."

"Right, because you of all people know what it means to be trusted."

"Lance, I'd like to not do this right now. I'd also like you to remember whose office you're sitting in."

A curtain of long eyelashes hid his piercing gaze when Lance looked toward the floor. His overall form, although stiff, finally deflated. He scratched at the back of his head in what seemed to be a nervous tick.

"How about this..." Alessandro grabbed a complimentary packet that he gave all of his new models and began writing on the inner cover of the first page. "I'll leave my personal number with you. You can think all of this over for the next couple of days. If you really can't stand to work with me, I'll sort through some connections to get you an interview at another agency. It may not be as big as mine, but it'd be something. If you do decide to stay here though, well, I'd be more than happy to work with you."

"And what exactly would you get out of this?" Lance frowned. "I think you're being a little too nice considering how things are between us. Exes or not- I'm not some damn piece of charity work."

"I know. I just want to give you a helping hand- as a friend."

"We're not friends."

"Well- then as an old flame."

Bluish gray eyes darted upward. They met hopeful green ones.

Alessandro could see the gears shifting in Lance's head because it showed on his face. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, and his nostrils flared in clear agitation. He pulled his hands together with enough force to make them shake.

Despite tense eye contact being held, Alessandro noticed when Lance's left knee started hopping in its place.

"I'm not asking for a clear cut answer right now. I'm just asking you to think about it."

Lance huffed. He snatched the presented packet and folded it. The thin booklet was pushed into the inner pocket of a rather worn leather jacket.

"...You may want to work on your smile. I can tell that it's fake from here," he said, getting up from his seat.

Alessandro froze. His mind blanked. The false smile on his face fell in response to the observation.

It made him uncomfortable to know that even after all these years, Lance could still read the other man's true emotions.

"Hey."

Lance stopped in front of the glass doors. He looked over his shoulder.

"It's Mr. Bale while we're on the clock."

"Guess it's fortunate then that I'm not on the clock. And considering our history, I didn't think I needed to call you that."

"Now who's being inappropriate?"

Lance didn't bother responding. He simply continued out of the office.

Alessandro remained frozen as he watched his ex's retreating form.