Page 378 of Reign

“That’s right.”

“Oh my God.”

His hands slide from my face. “Are you ready?”

“Ready how? Internally? No. Externally?” I look down at myself. “Absolutely not.”

“You have ten minutes.”

“Ten?”

“Unless you want to be late.”

“I can not be late to meet Evelyn St. Clair.”

“Then I recommend shoes.”

Right. Shoes.

I cross to the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed and reach for the cream pumps waiting beside my discarded dresses. The pointed toes are sleek, the heels narrow, and a delicate gold vine curls around the back of each shoe.

Luciano watches me slide them on.

“Those are beautiful.”

I look up at him. “They’re Evelyn St. Clair.”

“Of course they are.”

“They’re from her spring collection two years ago.”

“Then perhaps she’ll appreciate your commitment.”

“Or think I’m trying too hard.”

“You are trying too hard.”

I stare at him.

He holds out my portfolio. “Time to go.”

I take it from him and clutch it against my chest.

Every design I selected suddenly feels wrong. Too safe. Too dramatic. Too unfinished. Too much like the work of a twenty-one-year-old woman who has no business sitting across from Evelyn St. Clair.

Luciano opens the bedroom door.

I remain where I am.

He looks back. “Princesa.”

“What if she hates everything?”

“She won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can.”