<h4>Chapter 150: Opportunity</h4>


    Hailey


    "Stop fidgeting," Reba whispers as she sees me smoothing the front of my dress again. "You look incredible."


    Josh squeezes my hand. "She’s right. You do."


    His eyes haven’t left me since I emerged from the bedroom earlier, and the heat in his gaze makes me forget about the dress’s revealing neckline. He looks devastatingly handsome in his designer shirt, which was gifted by the designer himself. A reward for a sessful photoshoot.


    The door swings open before we can ring the bell, revealing a uniformed staff member who nods politely. "Wee to Mr. Winters’ residence. Please,e in."


    Of course, this man has uniformed staff members.


    The foyer alone is bigger than my entire apartment, with soaring ceilings, modern art instations, and a chandelier that probably costs more than my yearly sry. Music drifts from deeper within the house, along with the buzz of conversation and asionalughter.


    "Subtle," Josh mutters, eyeing a massive sculpture that looks suspiciously like naked bodies intertwined.


    "Oh, I like that," Reba says, tilting her head to examine it. "Very... expressive."


    I roll my eyes. "Let’s just find some drinks."


    We follow the sound of music through a series of rooms, each more opulent than thest. The party is in full swing, with models, photographers, and industry executives mingling in elegant groups. I recognize most of the faces from Luxe, though there are plenty I don’t know.


    "Hailey!" Tammy spots me and waves, making her way over. "You look gorgeous! And Josh—wow, very handsome."


    "Thanks," I say, epting her air kisses. "This ce is..."


    "Ridiculous?" she supplies with a knowing smile. "That’s Marcus for you. Subtlety isn’t in his vocabry."


    As if summoned by his name, Marcus appears at the edge of the room. He’s wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo, his silver hair styled immactely. Several people immediately gravitate toward him, but his eyes scan the crowd until they find me.


    He excuses himself and makes his way over, moving with the confidence of a man who knows exactly how much power he wields.


    "Hailey," he says, taking my hand and brushing his lips across my knuckles. "I’m d you could make it."


    I withdraw my hand as quickly as politeness allows. "Thanks for inviting us."


    His gaze shifts to Josh, and they exchange the briefest of nods before Marcus turns to Reba. Something flickers in his eyes. Annoyance or interest, I can’t quite tell.


    "Reba," he says, voice cooling several degrees.


    Reba grins, doing a little twirl in her red dress. "What do you think? Too much?"


    The dress is stunning and daring, with a plunging back and a slit that reveals a generous portion of her thigh. It’s the kind of dress designed to turn heads, and it’s doing exactly that.


    Marcus’s jaw tightens. "It’s... memorable."


    "Just like me," she quips, winking at him.


    I stifle augh at Marcus’s barely concealed irritation. Whatever happened between them in his office has clearly left its mark.


    "Drinks are that way," Marcus says, gesturing toward a bar staffed with mixologists in matching vests. "Help yourselves. If you’ll excuse me, I need to greet some other guests."


    As he walks away, Reba lets out a dramatic sigh. "He wants me so bad."


    "You’re delusional," Joshughs, shaking his head.


    "Am I though?" She raises an eyebrow. "Did you see how he looked at me? Like he couldn’t decide whether to throw me out or throw me down."


    "Reba!" I giggle, ncing around to make sure no one overheard.


    She just shrugs, unashamed. "Come on, let’s get those drinks."


    The bar is crowded, but people part for us—or rather, for Josh, who still draws stares wherever he goes. The bartender grins when he sees us.


    "What can I get for the stars of the hour?"


    "Champagne for me," I say.


    "Whiskey, neat," Josh adds.


    "Something strong and pink," Reba deres, "with an inappropriate name."


    The bartenderughs. "I’ve got just the thing."


    Drinks in hand, we drift through the party, stopping asionally to chat with colleagues. I find myself rxing despite the opulent surroundings, enjoying the warmth of Josh’s hand at the small of my back and the way his eyes keep finding mine across conversations.


    "Hailey Jameson!" a voice calls out, and I turn to see Diane Lowell, the fashion editor from Vogue, approaching with a ss of champagne. "I’ve been hoping to meet you."


    My heart skips a beat. "Ms. Lowell, it’s an honor."


    "Please, call me Diane," she says, waving away the formality. "I saw the preliminary shots from your shoot. Exceptional work."


    "Thank you," I manage, trying not to sound as starstruck as I feel.


    "Who’s your handsomepanion?" she asks, eyeing Josh with professional interest.


    "Josh Daniels," he says, extending his hand. "I had the privilege of modeling for Hailey’s shoot."


    "Yes, I remember your face," Diane says, shaking his hand.


    Diane’s eyes linger on Josh a beat longer than is strictly professional, but her smile remains sharp and approving. "Well, the camera certainly remembers you too. You’ve got the kind of presence that’s hard to ignore." She shifts her gaze back to me. "You know, Hailey, it’s rare to see a new photographer capture chemistry so effortlessly. Your work has a certain... rawness. Vulnerability."


    "Thank you," I say, my voice a little breathless. "That means a loting from you."


    "I have a feeling it’s just the beginning for you," she adds, tipping her ss toward mine. "We’ll talk soon. Keep an eye on your inbox."


    She glides away, leaving me blinking after her.


    "Oh my god," I whisper. "Did that just happen?"


    Josh leans close, brushing his lips against my temple. "You’re a star, Hailey. Everyone’s just starting to realize it."


    Reba lets out a low whistle. "Girl. Vogue. If you’re not freaking out, I will do it for you."


    Iugh, giddy and slightly dizzy. From the champagne or thepliment or maybe just the nearness of Josh. "Okay. Now I need another drink."


    We head back toward the bar, only to be approached by Marcus again, this time with two people in tow, a tall man with graying hair and a striking woman in a dark green dress that hugs her figure like liquid silk.


    "Hailey," Marcus says smoothly, "I’d like to introduce you to Thomas Bergman, creative director at L’Attente, and his partner, Elise Monroe."


    Elise extends her hand first. "We’ve been hearing your name a lottely."


    "I hope all good things," I reply, shaking her hand.


    Elise looks at Josh. "And you. We should talk."


    "Ehh...me?" Josh looks unsure.


    "In fact, I have a proposal for you," Elise continues, her eyes assessing Josh with heated gaze. "We’reunching a new men’s fragrance line next month, and our original model just backed out. Creative differences." She waves her hand dismissively. "I’ve been scrambling to find a recement, and then I saw your work in the Luxe preview."


    Josh blinks, caught off guard. "You want me to model for L’Attente?"


    "Not just model," Thomas interjects, his voice deep and ented. "Be the face of Enigma. Exclusive contract, global campaign. Print, digital, runway in Paris and Mn."


    I feel Josh stiffen beside me, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly around mine.


    "That’s... quite an offer," he says carefully.


    Elise smiles, all business and sharp edges. "Thepensation would reflect themitment, of course. We’re prepared to offer seven figures for a two-year exclusivity deal."


    Reba chokes on her pink cocktail. I pat her back automatically, my mind racing to process what’s happening.


    "I...uh...I’m not sure," Josh says. "I mean, I am not sure if I want to do this model thing permanently."


    Elise arches a perfectly sculpted brow. "Offers like this don’te around twice especially not with this kind of exposure."


    Josh shifts ufortably, his jaw tightening. "I appreciate it. I really do. But I didn’t exactly n on this being my career. Modeling started as a side gig. Something fun."


    "And yet here you are," Elise says, her gaze flicking between him and me. "Paired with an emerging photographer whose eye is quickly bing one of the most talked about in the industry."


    I open my mouth to say something, but Elise cuts in smoothly, her voice silk and steel. "We don’t need an answer tonight. But we’ll be sending over the contract and concept boards. Just promise me you’ll look at them."


    Josh nods, measured. "Sure."


    "Good." Elise’s smile turns razor sharp. "Because if you don’t take this opportunity... someone else will. And they’ll take it all the way."


    With that, she and Thomas drift away, their designer silhouettes disappearing into the morous tide of guests.


    Reba exhales loudly the moment they’re out of earshot. "Holy. Shit."


    "I know," I whisper, still stunned.


    Josh runs a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. "I wasn’t expecting that."


    I nce at him, uncertain. "Do you want to do it?"


    He’s quiet for a beat, his thumb rubbing slow circles on the back of my hand. "I don’t know."


    Reba watches us, sipping her drink with wide, curious eyes like she’s front row at a drama she didn’t know she needed. But for once, she stays quiet.


    Josh sighs, the sound soft but heavy. "It’s tempting, sure. The money, the travel, the exposure..." His gaze lifts to mine. "But I didn’t sign up for any of this. Not really. I liked working with you because it felt real. Creative. Fun."


    My heart twists. "This doesn’t have to change anything between us."


    "Doesn’t it?" he asks gently. "You heard them. Paris. Mn. Global campaigns. Two years of my face stered everywhere. I’d be spending more time in airports and studios than with you. And I don’t want to lose... this. Us."


    My fingers tighten around his. "But I don’t want you to miss out on things because of me."


    He searches my face like he’s memorizing it. "You’d really be okay with me doing it?"


    "If it’s what you want," I say honestly. "I won’t let it scare me away. I know who you are, Josh. This campaign won’t change that."


    Reba finally speaks, her voice unusually subdued. "She’s right, you know. You’d kill it out there."


    Josh lets out a breath, nodding slowly. "Okay. I’ll look at the contract. But I’m not saying yes. Not unless it feels right. For me. For us."


    A warmth spreads through my chest—equal parts relief and pride.


    Somewhere across the room, Marcus catches my eye again. There’s a glint there, like he’s watching a game unfold and already knows the next ten moves.


    I squeeze Josh’s hand and lift my chin.


    I wonder if Marcus introduced those people to Josh on purpose. If Josh epts the offer, he will be away from me while I work with Marcus at Luxe.


    But is he really that twisted?