Time, then.Timewas the real assignment.
“You will make room,” René said, already turning away. “Or something else will make room for you.”
With that, he was gone.
I stared at the folder for a moment longer than necessary before opening it. Schedules. Deadlines. Requirements. The faint, undeniable promise of being seen at the end of the year if I survived the path there.
Thiswasn’ta side quest.
This was a second track.
I exhaled slowly and added the dates to my calendar.
Something would have to give. I just didn’t know what yet.
By late morning,I was sent downstairs to assist on a shoot already in progress. Nothing glamorous—editorial fashion, street-adjacent, meant to feel effortless while requiring absolute control.
As I crossed the newsroom, someone leaned back from a neighboring desk and smiled at me.
“Hey,” she said, bright-eyed and easy. “You’re René’s shadow, right?”
I smiled back. “Something like that.”
She stood, smoothing her jacket. “I’m Margaux. I’ve seen your work on the wall.” A pause, deliberate but not predatory. “You want to grab a coffee later?”
The offer was casual. Friendly. No pressure. I appreciated that. Really appreciated it. Margaux—pronounced Margo but I thought the French spelling was prettier—was lovely. I also didn’t hesitate.
“That’s kind of you,” I said, keeping my tone warm and steady. “But I don’t mix work and… anything else. It keeps things clean.”
Margaux blinked, then laughed softly. “I understand. Worth asking.”
“Always,” I said.
She smiled again—unoffended,thank fuck—and turned back to her desk. “Rachel?”
“Hmmm?”
“If we all go out for a drink, then it’s not mixing work with anything else, it’s just work—with alcohol.” She met my grin with a sly smile. “Besides, I think we could just—enjoy talking.”
“You, me, and everyone else here?” I asked more out of curiosity than irritation, and Margaux’s smile just grew.
“Not everyone,” she said, deadpan. “René with alcohol is not as fun as he is day to day.”
That actually made me snort with laughter. “Good to know.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Still, think about it. It is always good to havefriendsat work. Oui?”
As flirty as her initial offer had been, this one was just frank and open. “Oui,” I said. “Let me know, if there are drinks—I’ll see if I can make it.”
I walked on, pulse steady, strangely proud of myself. Not for saying no—but for not overexplaining it.
René noticed everything. Better to make it easy for him. The last thing I wanted was to ruin the ambience, especially if a drunk René was not as fun as a sober one. Holy hell, what did that evenmean?
The shoot was setup in a converted space flooded with afternoon light. White walls. Organized turmoil. Stylists adjusting fabric. Assistants moving with purpose. The hum of people who knew their jobs and expected you to know yours.
I was adjusting reflectors when she stepped into view.
The woman from the designer’s shop.
