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I took a quick shower and decided on a pantsuit and silk shirt. My heeled boots were on before I headed downstairs. To my surprise, Laurence was already in the dining room reading a book.
My lips parted. “You already know my schedule?”
He gave me a sheepish grin and shrugged. “In New York, you always started early.”
“Should we leave?”
“It’s close. Eat something. It’s never good to start anything hungry.”
My mind raced and nerves tumbled in my stomach with the uneasiness of first days. But I nibbled on a croissant and fruit bowl before we left.
The drive to Givenchy was only ten minutes, leaving me no time to relax.
“Go knock them dead,” Laurence told me and handed me my portfolio on the sidewalk.
“I’ll try my best.” I squeezed his arm then walked towards the front door, joining the other staff heading inside. When it was my turn, I reached for the handle, but another hand reached it first. It was a man’s hand that had a few rings on it that I recognized from yesterday. Hayden Madsen.
“Bonjour, Monsieur Madsen.”
“Bonjour, Nadia. Interns start early?” he quipped in his rich, French accent, holding the door open with a sweeping gesture. His style today was an open blazer and fitted V-neck T-shirt that molded to his strong upper body.
My lip quirked up at the corner. “I suppose I do. Thank you.”
“En français,” he reminded me in a teasing tone.
“J’imagine que oui. Merci,” I drawled, hoping I pronounced it right.
He only stared with an intense concentration that sent my pulse racing. Was he waiting for something? More bad French?
“Bonne journée, have a good day.” I turned to go, but his hand closed on my arm. “Wait.”
“Oui?” I asked.
“Stop by my office before you leave today.” He switched back to English. “I need your measurements.”
The internship form had included that we might need to assist the designers by trying on the clothes. Since Hayden used all body types from his last shows I’d seen online, it wasn’t something completely unexpected. Still, I offered. “I have my measurements from a fitting I had done fairly recent—”
“I do my own.” He lifted his chin. “So, you will come to my office, please.” His polite request took off the edge of his demand. He gestured towards the corridor and what I suspected was his office.
“Merci, Hayden. I’ll stop by.” I waved and hurried towards the main studio. To my relief, he didn’t follow. I scolded myself. I had to get over his star power. He’s another designer, and I’m here to learn from him. That’s it.
I spotted my name at a station near the door, right across from Wyatt, who was already there. “Café?” he asked, pointing at his cup.
“Oui,” I agreed, and he waited as I put away my things. Then we headed down the other side of the studio to a back corridor that housed the kitchen. There was an espresso maker on one of the long counters. Wyatt ground the beans, and I collected the milk and cups from a cabinet above.
“What do you think they will have us work on?” I asked him.
“If it’s anything like my last internship, work and running errands.” His smile showed dimples.
I lifted my shoulder. “I don’t mind an errand or two.”
“It’s fine when you’re not so busy, but when you are….” He snorted and shook his head.
“But you’re excited to be here in Paris?”
I nodded. “Yes. I am. I’ve only visited here before.”
“So Paris is new for you. But I agree staying busy is better than going home to an empty apartment.” He gazed off and pushed his hand back through his curls. “My boyfriend is gone.”
