2. Ella
2
Ella
I can’t stop thinking about Simon.
The way his eyes narrowed at me when he stepped off the elevator, like I was the one who’d ruined his entire day by simply existing in his space. The sharp, dismissive edge to his words. I can't remember ever being so stunned by someone who was so... rude. But here’s the thing—no matter how hard I try to focus on other things, like my new internship or unpacking the rest of my things in Ava's apartment, Simon keeps creeping into my thoughts.
It’s his eyes. I can’t shake the image of them. Dark, piercing, like they could see straight through me. And the way his jaw clenched when he walked past, as if the entire world was beneath his notice. He didn’t even flinch when I dropped my box. Didn’t offer to help. The audacity, right? But even though I should be furious, there’s something about him that lingers in my mind.
I snap myself out of my thoughts as I finish putting on my shoes. Today’s the big day—my first day at Linden & Co. Gallery . I can’t afford to be distracted. I don’t have time to think about some arrogant guy who probably couldn’t care less about me. I’ve got work to do.
Ava’s already gone to work by the time I finish getting dressed, so I have the place to myself. I make myself a quick cup of coffee, which I practically inhale before grabbing my coat and heading out the door. The city is buzzing with activity as I walk down the street, dodging pedestrians and taking in the smell of fresh pastries and coffee wafting from the nearby cafes.
The gallery is only a few blocks away, but it feels like I’m crossing into a completely different world. This is it— the art world. The place where I’ve wanted to be since I first picked up a paintbrush. And today, I’m finally getting a foot in the door.
When I arrive at Linden & Co. 's sleek building, I can hardly contain my excitement. The glass exterior reflects the bright morning sky, and the gallery’s name is written in elegant lettering above the door. As I walk inside, I’m greeted by a spacious lobby with minimalist furniture and large paintings adorning the walls. Everything is pristine, professional. It’s everything I imagined and more.
I approach the front desk, where a woman with sleek blonde hair and an impeccable blazer greets me with a friendly smile.
“Hi, I’m Ella. I’m here for the internship,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious.
“Welcome, Ella. Margo’s expecting you. Go right in.” She gestures toward a door at the back of the lobby.
I thank her and make my way toward the door. My heart is pounding as I step into the office, where Margo, the art director and gallery owner, is standing behind a large desk. She’s wearing a black dress with bold, geometric earrings, and she looks every bit the sophisticated art world mogul I imagined.
“Ella, welcome,” Margo says, her smile warm as she rises from her desk and extends her hand.
I take her hand, my nerves settling just a little at her friendly demeanor. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m really excited to be here.”
“Of course, we’re thrilled to have you,” she says, her tone kind but professional. “We’re always looking for passionate people to join the team. You’re here to learn, but I’m sure you’ll bring a fresh perspective to the gallery.”
I nod enthusiastically. “I really want to contribute however I can.”
“Great. I have a few tasks for you to get started on, but first—let me introduce you to Simon. He’ll be your mentor while you’re here.”
My stomach does a little flip at the mention of Simon. I can’t help it. It’s like a magnet, pulling me right back into those thoughts. And then, like fate, he steps into the room.
Simon.
I can’t help but stare for a moment. He looks... different today. Less rushed, less irritated. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, his hair slightly tousled but still perfectly styled. He looks every bit the sophisticated, successful man he is, and somehow, my brain still wants to scream, He’s the jerk from the hallway.
He doesn’t notice me immediately, his gaze shifting from Margo to the stack of papers in his hand. But then his eyes lock on mine, and everything comes rushing back.
And of course, I have to be the one standing here, with the awkward tension of our last encounter hanging in the air like an elephant in the room.
“Ella, this is Simon,” Margo says, her voice cutting through the silence. “He’s our senior curator and will be overseeing your work. Simon, this is Ella, our new intern.”
Simon gives me a curt nod, but his eyes don’t soften. In fact, I can almost feel the coolness radiating off of him. His gaze flickers briefly to Margo, then back to me.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, his voice flat and neutral. There’s no warmth there, no interest.
I force a smile, trying to keep it together. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Margo seems oblivious to the tension between us as she claps her hands together. “I’m sure you two will get along just fine. Ella, Simon’s been with the gallery for years. He’s got an eye for art and has curated some of our most successful shows. I trust him to show you the ropes.”
Simon offers nothing more than a stiff nod in agreement, and I try not to feel like I’m being dismissed. I want to hate him for being so cold, but something about the way his jaw tightens and his eyes seem to study me—like I’m some kind of puzzle he’s trying to figure out—makes me pause.
He’s definitely not the type to smile and make small talk. But that’s fine, I can handle that. I didn’t come here to be coddled.
“Well, we have a few things to go over, but I’ll leave you two to it,” Margo says, smiling at us both. “Ella, Simon will give you a tour of the gallery, and then I’ll have some tasks for you.”
She leaves the room, and just like that, it’s just me and Simon.
I stand there, unsure of what to do next, when Simon gestures toward the door. “Follow me,” he says, and walks out without waiting for me to respond.
I trail behind him, trying not to get distracted by how his presence fills the space. He moves through the gallery with purpose, his steps sure and quick, as if he owns the place—and in a way, I guess he does.
We walk past the various exhibits, the white walls adorned with incredible works of art, the lighting carefully curated to enhance every piece. Simon doesn’t explain anything to me, not yet. Instead, he leads me to a back room where the administrative side of the gallery is.
He stops by a desk, organizing some papers before turning back to me.
“You’ll mostly be helping with the day-to-day tasks,” he says, still not looking directly at me. “Emailing artists, scheduling appointments, assisting with exhibitions. Don’t expect to be thrown into anything glamorous right away.”
I nod, trying to keep my excitement under control. “I understand. I’m just happy to be here.”
Simon finally looks at me then, his gaze hard. “Don’t mistake your enthusiasm for naiveté. This isn’t a place for dreams. This is about the business. You’ll need to keep that in mind.”
His words hit harder than I expect. I thought this was supposed to be a place where art was celebrated, where creativity flowed freely. But now, I can’t help but feel a little deflated.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, trying to sound confident despite the shift in my mood.
Simon doesn’t seem to notice my change in demeanor as he hands me a clipboard with some forms. “Here. Get started on these. The sooner you’re settled in, the better.”
I take the forms, but as I watch him walk away, I can’t shake the feeling that this is going to be a lot harder than I expected. Simon might be cold, but I get the sense he’s hiding something beneath that icy exterior. Something that maybe could be worth discovering.
For now, though, I have to focus on proving myself. I can’t let him—or anyone—distract me. I’ve got my foot in the door, and I’m not about to let it close.
Even if that means putting up with Simon’s chilly attitude.