She turned and found herself face-to-face with a man about her age and of Asian descent. Like Jules, he was dressed mostly in black and had a harried expression. A fellow assistant, then. She’d seen him around at the various shows but hadn’t been introduced.

“Jules, yeah,” she said. “Hi.”

“Cool.” He had an accent, but she couldn’t place it. “I’m Randall, Monique Leung’s PA.”

“Good to meet you.” She smiled, her instincts already on alert. “Did Monique want to schedule something with Vivian? I’m afraid she’s…”

“Prabal Gurung’s holding a private party tomorrow evening at eight.” Randall kept looking back and forth between his phone and Jules, with the phone getting the lion’s share of his attention. “The Blind Spot Bar in St. Martins Lane Hotel. You’re invited. See you then.”

“Wait!” She put a light hand on his elbow as he turned to leave. “Vivian’s booked tomorrow night.”

“This invitation is for you, not Vivian.” Randall looked around after he spoke with a familiar rabbit-like expression of alarm, as if making sure Vivian wasn’t within hearing distance. “Like I said: tomorrow, eight, Blind Spot, St. Martins Lane. She’ll be expecting you. Bye.”

“But—” Her objection came too late. Randall was already making a beeline through the crowd.

Jules looked around in confusion, but Monique Leung herself was nowhere in sight. At least Vivian’s back was turned and she probably hadn’t noticed anything—not that Vivian would have recognized Randall. Lowly assistant and all.

“Cute guy. Think he’s available?”

Jules whirled to see Simon a few feet behind her holding a cocktail and sharply dressed. He had an amused half smile on his face.

“I think he’s a few rungs down the ladder for you,” she said.

“Oh, come on. He’s not in my chain of command. But”—Simon held up his drink to forestall Jules’s objections—“I concede your point. It’s just as well.” He sighed dramatically. “He’s one of those men who would send my heart down like the Hindenburg. I can tell.”

Simon had certainly picked up more about Randall from a distance than Jules had up close. “You’ve had a few, huh?”

“A few drinks or a few Hindenburg men?”

“Either.”

“Both.” Simon looked morose. “Every fashion week I wonder if I’ll find my Prince Charming, and at the end of every fashion week I wonder if I should download Grindr again.”

“I don’t want to know,” Jules said instantly.

“Sorry. Yeah, I’ve had enough.” He gave Jules a look that seemed pretty shrewd for a tipsy person. “I’ve seen that guy around, by the way. Works for Du Jour China, right?”

“He’s off-limits,” Jules reminded him.