Page 385 of Reign

My voice comes out embarrassingly small.

She gestures toward the stool, and I sit before my knees can fail independently.

“Where do you see yourself?” she asks. “New York? London? Milan? Paris?”

“Yes.”

Her brows rise.

“I mean—any of them. All of them. That would be the dream.”

“What about Florida?”

I frown. “Florida?”

“Yes.”

“I have a home there.”

The answer surprises me.

A home.

Not Luciano’s house.

Not the house.

A home.

Evelyn notices my hesitation but doesn’t ask about it.

“Do you like Florida?”

“I do. But I assumed New York would make more sense for fashion.”

“Fashion makes sense anywhere talent exists. The industry is very fond of pretending it discovered people who were already creating perfectly well without it.”

“That’s true.”

“I have an office in Florida,” she says. “I never have time to use it.”

She pauses.

“I’ve been considering an expansion. A smaller operation. Someone with a fresh perspective who could develop work there without trying to recreate New York in a warmer climate.”

I barely move.

Evelyn rests her elbow on the island.

“What do you think of a collaboration? St. Clair and Amato.”

For one dangerous second, I consider throwing myself across the island and hugging her.

I restrain myself because I’m a professional.

Technically.

“I think that sounds brilliant.”