Taylor leads me out to the terrace, and I can see Simon standing in a small huddle of men. I’ve only actually seen him twice during the program and I vividly remember him requesting that we interns call him Simon, not Mr. Van Doren, and his subtle rejection of hierarchy made me instantly like him. Even from this distance he is a serious presence, a formidable storm of self-possession. All black suit, no tie—never a tie—his impeccability as consistent as his hairline. He’s a tall man with massive hands and a direct gaze, just over fifty but doesn’t quite look it. Still wide through the shoulders.

My heart starts to slam against my chest. I’m a fool for even considering this. He’s going to laugh at me.

But then I think of Nate, of how much he believes in me, of how he didn’t have to do any of this for me. I suck in a breath and try not to think about it too hard because if I do, I’m going to panic and bail. It feels like my whole future is riding on this moment. My feet keep moving, one in front of the other. He’s just a man, I remind myself, flesh and blood. And then there’s that moment when I see him seeing me. His eyes meet mine and I feel strange, as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t, so conscious now of the fact that he’s well over six feet, and that I must look tiny to him. And then he smiles at me and it’s like sunrise after a thunderstorm, warm and reassuring.

Taylor reaches Simon before I do and slips her arm in his, pulling him away. “Dad, this is Brandi. One of your interns. She wants to go with you to Milan next month.”

Her gaze finds me again and she looks smaller somehow, more fragile. Not just physically—something about her expression, the way her eyes seem suddenly drawn to the floor. As if being in her father’s presence immediately has this effect on her.

A slow smile eases across his face as he looks at me, eyes sparkling. It’s so charming, it’s almost sociopathic. “Well, that’s a little forward, isn’t it?”

My mouth opens. I smile when I realize he’s joking. Of course he’s joking.

I force out a small laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as awkward as I feel. Taylor smiles at me, and I’m sure it was meant to be encouraging, but there’s something about it, something off. I can’t quite put my finger on it. I think I was more comfortable when she was ignoring me and all over Nate.