Danny Molloy's husband

“Oomph!”

“Watch where you’re going!” The girl Danny ran into yells, brushing imaginary dirt off her coat, “…you’re here for the job?”

“How could you tell?” Danny asks. It sounds sarcastic, but she really is wondering. She didn’t exactly make an effort to pretty up for her first day. The girl in front of her scoffs,

“Oh, I’m sure Louise will be thrilled.” She says under her breath and sighs, “I’m Claudia, follow me.” Danny thinks about giving a snarky reply and swiftly decides against it.

“I thought the boss’s name was Armand.” She quips, trailing behind Claudia— she’s so fast for someone so small.

“What?”

“The boss. I thought her name was Armand.”

“It is. What are you talking about?” Claudia finally turns to her as they come to a stop in front of an empty desk.

“Who the fuck is Louise?” Claudia just throws her hands up in exasperation, turning and hurrying off.

As one door clicks shut another opens and someone who Danny can only presume is Louise steps out, smiling back at the woman she was talking to. As soon as the door shuts she grabs Danny by the coat.

“What are you wearing?” Louise asks, pulling her towards the desk, gently tugging the leather jacket off Danny’s shoulders. “Are you aware of where you are right now?”

“What? Man—“ she took her jacket back from Louise, “what are you talking about?”

“Armand expects her assistants to be well dressed. You are not well dressed.”

“Hey, I’ll have you find that there is no shortage of men and women—“ Louise plants both her hands firmly on Danny’s shoulders.

“No one said you were unattractive, Danielle. But if you want this job, you are going to have to…” she hesitates, like she’s looking for the nicest way to phrase it, “step up your game.”

“Why does it matter? I’m an assistant.” Louise nearly laughed at that and, seemingly satisfied with the capacity to which she had helped, started back towards her desk. “C’mon, man!”

“Answer the phones, Danielle!”

Danny sighs and tosses her jacket over the back of her chair, sitting herself down. Answer the phones. That’s what a Berkely degree in journalism gets you. Answering phones. And answer phones she does. It’s all, ‘Runway magazine, how can u help you?’ And, ‘can I take a message?’ Right up until she heard what she had been dreading.

“Darla!” Armand called out from her office, where Louise and some other blonde chick were conferring with her. She assumed she was— “Darlene!” Yep.

Danny hurried to Armand’s office, poking her head in,

“Yeah, boss?”

“Took you long enough,” the blonde woman mumbles, Louise smacks her arm.

“I need ten or fifteen skirts from Calvin Klein. Can you do that, darling?” Armand asks, arms folded tightly across her chest, deep purple silk pulling taut over her arms. Danny is having thoughts she shouldn’t be having about her boss.

“Yes ma’am. Calvin Klein skirts— um, what kind of skirts?”

“Too many questions, Darla.” Armand says, waving her away. Danny, apparently, is feeling bold.

“Danny.” She corrects, “Danielle. But, um, I mean, people… my friends call me Danny.” The room holds its breath for a moment,

“Danielle. Well, while you’re out I need you to get me another coffee. And pick up my samples from the fabric store, and the scarves I ordered for the shoot this afternoon.”

“I’ll—“

“I’m not done. When you get back you will call Madeline and ensure that she confirms for the twentieth. You will then fetch my lunch, collect my approved list of mock ups and deliver them to Claudia. Is this clear?” Normally, Danny would spit out something witty or— in one case, literally spit in her boss’s face. But Armand is just… god, she could tell Danny to jump off the roof and she would without a word. She might be drooling.

“You’re excused.” Armand says without even looking at her, but she turns and scurries out. It’s not until she’s back at her desk where she questions her own deeply out of character mindless obedience. It is also then where she realizes she has no clue what Armand told her to do.

“…yeah, yes. Yes, boss.” She picks her jaw up off the floor and nods vehemently.

Armand waits until the door is shut and Danny is out of sight before she speaks,

“She’s promising. I think I’ll keep her.”

Skirts, Danny remembers. Skirts and coffee. And call someone. She can’t be mad if Danny does half the things asked of her. That’s, like, majority.

So, she grabs her coat and her bag, and she quickly realizes that she has absolutely not a clue what Armand needs. As if on queue, Claudia appears in the desk across from her,

“Here,” she says begrudgingly, holding out a price of note paper. “I’ll handle the skirts, you handle the rest. Quickly.”

“…thanks?” Claudia says nothing, just shakes the paper at her until she takes it and rushes out the door, down the elevator, onto the bustling New York streets.

The paper says the fabric samples are under a fake name— she’s not sure why, nothing else is. Lestat ordered the scarves so they’re for pickup for a Ms. Lioncourt. Claudia has scratched off ‘call Madeline’ from the list, so Danny infers that call has already been made. She comes back with Armand’s lunch and coffee in hand. I’ve done it, she thinks, I’ve done it all, I live to see another day.

She drops off the scarves and samples where Claudia said to and, finally, finds herself trembling in front of Armand’s office door.

“The door is glass, Y’know,” Claudia says, eyes trained on her monitor, tapping away at the keys.

“I know that, I’m just—“

“She can smell fear, like a wasp,” Louise adds from where she lingers over Claudia’s shoulder. “She, like, gets off on people being afraid of her.”

“What?”

“And she doesn’t like when her food is cold. Go.” Claudia rapidly gestures for Danny to just get it over with.

“You’re late.” Is the first thing she hears when she steps into the room, “I asked for my coffee before my lunch, you’ve brought them to me at the same time.”

“Come on, boss, cut me some slack, it’s my first day—“ Armand holds up her (perfect, well manicured, soft…) hand to silence Danny.

“Are you incompetent, Danielle?” She asks coolly, then, when Danny just stares blankly, “Are you?”

“No, I’m not fucking incompetent, boss.” She snaps, her hands squeezing so tightly into fists that her nails bite into her palms, leaving little red crescents in their wake.

“Do you have an excuse, Danielle?” She leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk.

“I didn’t know.” Armand sighs at her response,

“You can go.” She says, turning back to her computer, “bring these to Claudia.” She holds out a Manila envelope.

Danny stands there for a second, in the middle of the room, lips parted in half-shock. This is crazy, she thinks, this isn’t how bosses treat assistants. Armand obviously knows what she’s doing to her. It’s sadistic. Armand’s voice snaps her out of her trance.

“Danielle, please,” Armand extends the envelope, “focus, darling.” Danny takes it with shaking hands, her fingers brushing Armand’s and lingering just a second too long. She smiles as she watches Danny hurry back to her desk, dropping the envelope with Claudia.

“She has that effect on people,” Louise says, watching as Danny pulls on her coat, “You get used to it, she’ll move on.”

“I need air,” she breathes out, “five minutes. Cover the phones?” Claudia rolls her eyes, but Danny doesn’t stay long enough for her to say no.

Unsurprisingly, this isn’t the first time Danny has been attracted to her boss. Some fucked up thing about authority figures. But Armand has this aura about her— she’s unlike anyone Danny has ever met.

Fuck, how is she gonna survive this? Survive her?

She stubs out her cigarette against the brick wall of the alley she finds herself in and takes a deep breath in. It’s just a year. A year at Runway and she can go anywhere she wants. Tomorrow will be easier, right?

Tomorrow is not easier. Neither is the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Until she’s been on the job just over a week and she can already feel it chipping at her soul.

Louise greets her in the morning with a dry cleaning bag and a shoe box,

“For you,” she says, pushing the outfit into her hands before she can even put her stuff down. “A gift.”

“I thought Armand’s dry cleaning went on her desk, what is this?”

“It’s not Armand’s, it’s for you,” She explains, “She’s not going to put up with this… casual schtick much longer. Get ahead of the curve.”

“You’re trying to dress me?” Danny questions, “I’m a grown woman, are you serious?”

“Danielle, look at yourself. You’re wearing jeans.” Danny sighs and quickly accepts defeat.

“You’re an asshole,” she grumbles as she brushes past Louise.

“You’ll thank me later!” Louise calls out, a smug smile on her face.

As much as Danny wants to say otherwise, the clothes are amazing. She looks stunning, she feels great. She wonders what Armand is gonna think. She chooses to ignore the fact that she shouldn’t care what Armand thinks.

“Dressing up for the boss?” Louise’s girlfriend asks as Danny steps out of the stall, “Purple. She’ll like it.”

“It’s not for her,” Danny mumbles, “supposed to look nice. ‘S for the job.”

“Don’t fight it, Cherie. Armand, she is… enchanting.” She closes her lipstick. “You’re lucky.” She struts away before Danny can ask what the fuck she’s talking about, so she washes her hands and goes about her day.

She doesn’t have a moment to breathe when she gets back before Armand is calling her into her office.

“Yes, ma’am?” The room is already bustling with people showing Armand papers and sketches and blouses and belts.

“Has Madeline confirmed for the shoot?"

"Who?"

"Madeline, you called her last week, no?"

"I didn't— I mean, Claudia did, I thought.” Danny wrings her hands, she’s nervous— why is she nervous? She doesn’t want this job.

“I asked you to call her. Do you defect all your responsibilities to Claudia, Danielle?” Armand is doing that thing she does that makes Danny’s stomach flip, with her stern voice and almost-angry look in her eyes. “What do I have you for, then? Should I fire you and start paying Claudia double?” Claudia clears her throat,

“…Madeline confirmed for the twentieth, ma’am. I emailed you.” She says quietly, poking her head out from behind a rack of various tulle dresses.

“That’s all, Danielle.” She sighs, folding her hands in her lap and giving Danny a once over. It’s evident in her gaze that she notices something, but she just turns back to the employees milling around her office. Danny leaves with her tail between her legs.

“She’s obsessed with you.” Louise says as Danielle sits back down,

“She hates me,” She buries her head in her hands, “she wants me gone.”

“She wants to take you home and dress you up like an American girl doll.”

“She’s awful,” no one argues against that point. “Do we have an HR department?” Louise shrugs, unfazed at Danny’s current state of distress. She smiles when she sees the clock change.

“That’s my lunch. Don’t leave that desk until I get back!” She called over her shoulder, practically running out the building.

Alone at her desk, brand new dress shoes digging into the backs of her ankles and cold office air permeating her shirt, Danny deflates like a balloon. For a minute she sits, completely stagnant, forehead on her desk, and reflects on every moment that has lead her here. She should’ve gone to work for that stupid car magazine. She should’ve stayed in California. She could still move back. Maybe if she—

“Danielle?” Armand’s voice cuts through the quiet. Danny shoots up, brushing stray curls from her face and folding her hands in her lap, attempting in vein to look put together.

“Boss!” She exclaims. Looking up at her now, Danny realizes she’s not sure she’s ever seen Armand out from behind her desk. Weird.

“I came out here to apologize. Am I interrupting your… sulking?” Armand stared down her nose at her assistant— second assistant, even less important. Danny doesn’t try to hide her eye roll.

“Just not my day, is all.” She looks up at her boss, “did you say you were gonna apologize?”

“It was brought to my attention I may have been a bit harsh.”

“You’re always harsh.” God, Danny’s really on a roll today. Maybe she’ll get fired. That’d certainly kill a few birds with one stone.

“Harsher than necessary, then.” She concedes, “I apologize if that upset you. The whole building is under great stress in recent days, with the run-through and all.”

“…the what?” Any other day, Danny would be focused on her hot boss or her hot boss’s newly discovered legs. Curse her newfound desire to do work at her job. “Walk through, what’s that?” The beginning of a smile tugs at the corners of Armand’s lips.

“Finalizing business for the magazine,” she explains, poorly, “you’ll be there this afternoon, you’ll hate it.”

“Right, can’t wait.” Danny says jokingly. A stronger woman may have pressed on asking about the mysterious meeting looming in her near future, but Danny settles for watching the sway of Armand’s hips as she walks away.

“Oh, and Danielle?” Armand turns around when she’s halfway back to her office, “you look wonderful. Remind me to thank Louise.” Danny flushes bright red, partly with pride and partly because of her Armand-induced high.

“Hm. Wonderful.” Danny whispers to herself once the clack of Armand’s heels against the floor fades into the distance. “Wonderful.”

The phone ringing reminds her where she is. She is at work. The woman she’s staring after is her boss. She’s going to be professional about this.

“Runway magazine, Armand’s office, can I take a message?” Danny starts, pulling her notepad in front of her.

“Um yeah, this is Rachel Francis. I was just calling to say that I— I won’t be able to come in this afternoon,” the girl on the other line explains. Danny can tell she’s nervous— anyone would be, really. Cancelling on Armand. She jots her name down.

“Won’t be able to make it… and what are you, Rachel? Like, your job?”

“Model. I’m a model.”

“Rachel, model, got it. I’ll let Armand know.” She nods and sets down the phone.

Danny gently knocks on the glass door before pushing it open,

“Danielle,” Armand regards her without looking in her direction. A deceptively soft smile graces her lips.

“Girl named Rachel just called. She says she can’t make it today.” Armand heaves a disappointed sigh,

“Well, I suppose we can manage without a model today,” she says, eyes running over the clothing rack in front of her.

“We never use them anyway,” Lestat adds from behind the rack.

“Right,” her boss turns back to her desk and jots something down, “is that all, Danielle?”

“All she told me.” Armand nods,

“I need you back in here at 12:30,” she says, then looks up at Danny, “can you do that?” Danny smiles,

“Yes, ma’am,” she answers and heads out to lunch with a spring in her step.

For lunch, Danny has a London fog, a cake pop and a cigarette. She sits, with her paper, at a table just outside the door of the little cafe she found just down the street from Runway. She skims the personals, the wedding columns and the obituaries. It’s calming. She watches everyone who passes with a keen, newly trained eye for fashion. She’s been studying. She knows how Runway has influenced what, and when. She takes pride in her knowledge.

Armand’s office is vastly different than it was when Danny left. What was once a single clothing rack has become many, and instead of Lestat, there’s a half dozen other Runway employees buzzing around. And Danny is still unsure what this meeting is about.

“So, boss, what exactly is… all this?”

“Just as I told you before, Danielle. Finalizing things for this month’s issue.”

“When you said that I pictured more writers and editors than clothing racks and models.” Armand looks away from the person she was speaking with before Danny came in, weaving towards her through the chaos.

“Our model cancelled, Danielle. You know that.” She explains, as if most office jobs have monthly mini fashion shows, “you should be taking notes.” She says, and turns out to speak to everyone else in the room. “Look alive, people! We’re starting!”

Everyone stands at attention, and Danny finally gets a grasp on what this is as they meticulously run through every outfit to be featured in the march issue of Runway magazine. Periodically, Armand turns and asks Danny to take a note or to call someone later. She never asks for her opinion, but Danny doesn’t mind. It’s not her place, she figures.

The first snag comes in the form of a little black Valentino dress that no one can seem to form an opinion on. Lestat mumbles something under her breath about Rachel (who Danny infers has been fired). Louise pinches the bridge of her nose. Claudia has been checking her watch every three seconds since the meeting started. Armand’s eyes scan the room, her employees, and the dress once again.

“Danielle,” Armand looks down at her, “try this on for me.” Danny takes a moment to process the request— more of an order, really.

“I’m sorry?” She responds, This isn’t her job. She’s not here to play dress up.

“It would be too large for Claudia, it would be too small for Louise and Lestat.” She pushes the hanger into Danny’s hands, “please, make haste.”

Too confused to argue, Danny takes the dress and slips away into the bathroom off Armand’s office. She unbuttons her top and peels off her slacks and shoes, hurrying to squeeze into the dress.

It’s a nice dress, she decides, it’s nothing she’d normally reach for, but she can see it looking great on another girl. She can see it looking really great on another girl. It’s timeless. The hem falls just below her ass, it’s got this cowl neck, and this smooth red lining. And it’s tight. Just too tight to zip up on her own.

“Shit…” She mumbles, staring at herself in the mirror. It’s been a long time since she’s worn anything like this, and she notes you can definitely tell she’s not wearing a bra. “This isn’t zipping!” She calls out. She can hear Armand heave a sigh, and is shocked when she pushes the door open without warning. She straightens her posture and smooths out the front of the dress. “Boss!” She exclaims as she makes eye contact with Armand in the mirror. Armand doesn’t say anything, just places a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

If Danny weren’t completely oblivious, she’d notice the way Armand’s pupils grow to the size of dinner plates and her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Her eyes drag down Danny’s figure and she steps behind her, gently clasping the top of the dress closed and sliding the zipper up.

“There.” She hums, stepping back, “perfect, darling.” Danny feels her face heat up and she spins around to face Armand.

“You think?” She asks, tilting her head.

“Come here.” Armand says, leading her back into the office where everyone is quietly chattering and waiting for the boss to finish playing with her assistant. She kneels before Danny, slipping a slightly too small pair of Louboutins over her socks. “Right. That’s nice.” She says to the room, everyone nods passively.

“These shoes don’t fit.” Danny grumbles, shifting her weight. Armand doesn’t seem to care, she just stares up at her.

“We’ll use the dress.” She declares, “write that down, Danielle.”

“Using the dress,” she notes quietly to herself, scribbling in her notepad. That, Danny assumes, is the end of it. And for thirty minutes it is.

Then comes a red suit that Lestat is just insistent about.

“—it is not hideous!” She insists, “Danielle, put it on!” She throws her hands up in a huff,

“I am not a model.” Danny retorts,

“That much is obvious,” Louise smacks her arm, Armand glares. Lestat just rolls her eyes and looks away.

“Quickly, Danielle. We haven’t got all day,” Armand says pointedly, shoving the suit in Danny’s direction. “Humor us, darling.”

Danny changes as fast as she can, pulling the suit jacket over her new purple shirt. It looks… eh. It fits fine, the color is nice on its own, but something is just off. She feels like a game show host. One hand comes up to undo the top few buttons, revealing her collarbone and the smattering of freckles on her chest. That’s better. She steps out hesitantly, hands in her pockets, giving an awkward shuffle/twirl.

“Hm.” Armand looks her up and down scrutinizingly, “it’s…”

“See?” Lestat grabs Danny’s shoulders, posing her. “If Danielle can pull it off, imagine it on a real model!” Danny gives Lestat a look, shrugging her hands off. Armand beckons her over, taking a necklace from a stand on her desk and carefully maneuvering to clip it on Danny’s neck. It’s a locket, nice, sturdy and heavy around her neck.

“I’ll think about it,” she mutters skeptically, her eyes trained on the locket in the middle of Danny’s chest. “Think.” She emphasizes to Lestat, who smiles triumphantly.

“Can I… change?” Danny asks, her eyes bouncing between the two who have seemingly gone back to work.

“Yes, darling. That should be all,” Armand smiles.

Danny changes back into her own clothes (er, the clothes Louise gave her) and takes a deep breath. 358 days. 358 more days of this—of Armand, every single day. But then she’s out— to The New York Times or, really, anywhere other than here. She splashes some water on her face.

Everyone is clearing out when she steps back into the office, and she comes up next to Armand, patiently waiting. She can’t count the amount of times in the last week she’s been reprimanded for leaving before she was told. It’s quite demeaning, actually.

She gently unclasps the locket around her neck upon realizing it’s still there,

“Here,” she starts, holding it out to Armand, who pushes it away.

“Keep it,” she says, holding her hand over Danny’s for a moment.

“Keep it?”

“Yes, keep it, wear it.” She folds her arms over her chest, “you’re lacking in accessories.”

“Sweet.”

“It is.”

A brief moment of silence. Armand regards Danny with meticulous eyes, visually picking her apart, from the patch of freckles on the bridge of her nose to the faint scar under her left eye. Danny notices just how bright Armand’s eyes are, and the little blonde streak in her eyebrow. She’s…

“Beautiful,” Armand mutters, “you’re quite beautiful when you’re all cleaned up.”

“I’m sorry?” Danny questions, tilting her head, a smile playing at her lips, “me?” Armand scoffs,

“You’re excused, Danielle,” she dismisses her, “send me the notes from the runthrough, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

So maybe the job isn’t so bad. Danny thinks, Maybe her hot boss isn’t evil. People have bad days, weeks. Really, it’s only been a week. Things are looking up. And up. And up.

She gets a call at nine pm. Fucking ridiculous, in her opinion, but she takes it, much to her roommates chagrin.

“Boss. I got off work three hours ago.” She takes a sip of cheap wine. She knows, technically, she’s never off the clock, but she assumed Armand had some decency.

“You’re coming to Paris,” Armand declares, “The seventeenth through the twenty fourth, you can do that, I assume?” Danny nearly chokes on her drink,

“Paris?” She yells into her phone, “Paris? I thought Claudia was going to Paris with you?”

“Claudia is out of the picture, she’s fallen terribly ill.” Armand sounds bored, like she expected this to be over by now.

“Louise?”

“Louise is not my assistant. Nor Lestat. Are you going to do your job, or will I be in Paris alone?”

“I don’t have much of a choice,” she fidgets with a loose thread on the couch. Paris. Weird. One week at Runway and they send her to Paris.

“Your room is already booked, I’ll send a car to collect you tomorrow. Don’t pack.” She practically can hear Armand’s smug smile through the phone. “Goodnight, Danielle.” Danny sighs,

“Goodnight, ma’am.” The phone clicks, indicating that the call has ended. Danny rubs a hand down her face and gets up to pack.

In her room, she realizes she has no clothes. At least, none up to Armand’s standards— and certainly not up to Paris standards. She piles all her clean clothes into her biggest duffle bag and decides, if it pisses Armand off so much, she’ll deal with it her own self.

She’s roused the next morning from her boxed wine induced stupor by another phone call. She doesn’t have to check the caller ID before she answers.

“Mm, Armand? Y’woke me up.” She slurs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes,

“The car is outside your house. Are you not ready?”

“Outside?” Danny sits up in her bed, “it’s, like, seven in the morning.”

“Eight thirty.” Armand corrects,

“It’s too fucking early.” She huffs, “gimme five, I don’t have pants on.” Armand sighs,

“Please hurry, Danielle. It’s impolite to keep people waiting.” Danny hangs up, tossing her phone back onto the bed and pulling on the first semi-nice sweater she finds over her shabby old tanktop. She forgoes wearing the pants Louise gave her yesterday and decides instead on wearing jeans. She looks fine. Ish. She ties up her hair and doesn’t brush her teeth and snags an apple on her way out. And she’s fine.

“Danielle. Took you long enough,” Armand says as Danny gets into the car, “We’ll have to be quick on our feet once we land in Paris. We’ve got a busy day.”

“How busy?”

“Very busy, you should know this, you’re the assistant,” Danny shrinks into herself, “what do I even pay you for?”

“My boyish charm,” she jokes, taking a bite of her apple.

“You’re a wreck,” Armand grumbles, “here.” From the seat pocket in front of her, she takes out a thick binder and plops it in Danny’s lap.

“What’sh thish?” Danny asks, mouth still full, to which Armand gives her a look and shifts her gaze to stare out the window.

“Study up. I’d like you to know everyone at the gala tomorrow night.” Danny opens the binder, pages upon pages of fashion high-ups. People from talamasca magazine and other branches of Runway. So many fucking people.

“What? I have to know all this?” Maybe Danny sounded ridiculous, but seriously? All this by tomorrow?

“It’s your job, Danielle. Please, have some couth.”

“I have couth—“

“The book, please. Study.” And so she studies, all the way to the airport. And it quickly dawns on her that she’s so screwed. She slips away at the airport, into a quiet corner by a trashcan to call Louise.

“Danielle, why are you calling me?” She answers, exasperated.

“She’s nuts!” Danny all but yells, chewing on her nails.

“That’s what you’re calling to tell me?” She sounds unimpressed, “is this about Paris?”

“She’s got me studying! I have no clue who these people are! And there’s tens of them!” She’s stressing. There’s a countdown to tomorrow projected big and glowing red in her mind.

“Just skim it,” Louise offers, unhelpfully, “Claudia never mentioned memorizing anything.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not her assistant.” Louise reminds her, Danny groans and throws her hands up, hitting the end call button.

“Danielle!” Armand grabs her arm, pulling her away from her corner of solitude. “We haven’t got time to mess around. We’ve got a luncheon at twelve thirty.”

“Where are you going?” Danny asks, “literally everyone is going that way.”

“Don’t be silly, Danielle,” Armand responds, “we’d never fly commercial.”

“What?”

A private jet. That’s what Armand meant. She was the owner of a real life private jet.

“This is ridiculous.” Danny says, looking around, her nails tapping on her champagne glass, “you’re, like, a caricature of a rich person.”

“What are you talking about, Danielle?” Armand cocks her head to the side,

“Like a cartoon,” she continues, her eyes exploring the plane,

“Shouldn’t you be studying, darling?” Armand raises an eyebrow, bringing her glass to her lips. Danny hmphs and opens the binder.

She’s read the whole thing by the time they land, it’s debatable how much she remembers, but she’s read it all. Maybe, she thinks, I can convince myself I have a photographic memory. Maybe.

“Go get us checked in, darling.” Armand instructs as they stand in the lobby of their extravagant hotel. Danny nods and heads off to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m checking in, should be under the name Du Lac.” She smiles and places Armand’s card on the counter,

“Du Lac, right,” the receptionist says cordially, typing for a moment. After a moment, she hands over two room keys with a smile, “there you are, Miss. Will that be all?” Danny looks down at the keys for a second before looking back to the receptionist.

“No, actually uh, one more thing,” Danny starts, “these are both for the same room.”

“Yep, you have a suite on the third floor. Is something the matter?”

“Just one room?” She’s gotta be kidding. Danny thought this shit only happened in shitty romcoms.

“Just the suite, yes ma’am.” She nods, “is there a problem?” Danny looks down at the room keys, then up at the receptionist, then at the keys again. Suite, she thinks, that’s gotta have multiple rooms, yeah? More than one bed, certainly. I’ve delt with worse.

“Nah, that’s fine. That’s perfect, ‘s my bad.” She shoves the key cards into her back pocket and shrugs, “have a good one.” The receptionist looks only slightly confused before smiling again and giving a little wave.

“You too, Miss!” She yells sweetly after Danny.

Armand holds her hand out expectantly for the key when she notices Danny next to her, zoned in on something on that tablet she insists is for work. She sets the card in her palm, picking her bag up from where it sat on the floor at Armand’s feet and starting for the elevator.

“Hey, boss, you always only get one room?” Armand shrugs and slips her IPad back into her bag,

“It’s simply more convenient.” She explains, “you will, of course, have your own space. But it is helpful to have you available when needed.”

“Right. Miss Armand’s live in nanny.” She drags Armand’s bags behind her as the step out of the elevator.

“I pay you to assist me, Danielle,” she unlocks the door and steps into the suite, “put these in whichever bedroom is larger.”

“You got it, boss.”

“And change, for the love of god.” She hears Armand mumble, “I had Lestat pack you a bag, it should be the red one.” Danny sighs as she drops their bags on the bed,

“You people keep trying to dress me,” she announces as she unzips the red bag, rifling through its contents. “‘M a grown woman.” Armand scoffs as she appears in the doorway. She approaches the bag on the bed with a head shake, rummaging for a moment before pulling out the dress Danny tried on at the runthrough.

“You liked this, no?” She asks, holding it up in the light.

“It’s not—“ Danny pauses for a moment to think, “I don’t wear things like that. I thought this was just a lunch?”

“This is much more than just a lunch, Danielle,” She explains, “you have got to make a good first impression.” Armand steps closer to brush a stray curl from Danny’s face, for a moment, her eyes flit to her Danny’s chest— to the locket still hanging there. She smiles and heads to the door.

Danny isn’t sure she has a choice as to whether or not she wears the dress, so she bites the bullet. It’s a sweet dress, it’s the same dress, she feels the same as she did when she tried it yesterday. Except today she has to go out and see people in it.

Eh, fuck it, who cares.

She slips on the heels and paints her lips red with lipstick and stumbles out into the common area.

“There you are, come, quickly,” Armand says the second she lays eyes on her, “we’re already late.” Danny glances at the clock, its 12:15.

“I thought—“ she starts,

“We’re already late, darling,” she repeats as she stands, grabbing her bag, “come.” Danny sighs and follows.

And follows.

And follows, and hangs up Armand’s coat, and her bag.

And follows some more. Really, all she does is follow Armand around with that polite smile on her face. She begins to think she may not be an amazing assistant.

“—of course, love,” Armand smiles as she bids goodbye to a man from some French magazine. They have history. “Wonderful to see you, Mr. Santiago.” She waves as he walks away, her smile dropping the second he’s out of earshot. “Insufferable.” She whispers to herself. Danny tries to stifle her laugh, and fails.

“He didn’t seem that bad.” Armand rolls her eyes and takes a sip of champagne.

“He’s awful, tdv, terrible magazine.” She sighs, knocking back the rest of her drink, and heading towards the exit. Danny scurries along behind her, tripping over her own feet.

“Leaving?” She grabs Armand’s things and hands them to her, “typically people eat lunch at luncheons.” Armand hums contently, pulling her coat on.

“We’ll eat,” she says as they step out, “get us a reservation nearby.”

They end up at a nice little cafe tucked away in the corner of nowhere. It’s quiet and only slightly overpriced and Armand seems to be content as she sips on her wine and eats her sandwich. Danny’s eyes skim her schedule, jotting down what needs to be done by when.

“Right, and you have a dinner tonight,” she notes aloud to herself, “do you, uh… do I need to—?”

“I would prefer you didn’t accompany me. Personal matters.” Armand replies as she takes a sip of wine, “you are free tonight.” Danny nods and puts the schedule away to focus on her own lunch.

“Great.”

For the first time in a week, Danielle is completely, totally alone for more than half an hour. And she has no clue what to do with herself. She’s been sitting idly on the balcony looking out over Paris.

She’s always had this fantasy in the back of her mind; coming to Paris with someone special. Every little girl does, she thinks. She’d imagined something beautiful happening. A proposal, maybe. Not a work trip. Right now Paris just seems shitty.

She stubs out her cigarette against the bannister and goes back inside. She figures she might as well go out while she can, in her own clothes, wherever she wants to go. That is, until she runs into Louise. When did Louise get here?

“When did you get here?” She asks, Louise rolls her eyes,

“About fifteen minutes ago,” she says, “where are you going?”

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Maybe a stupid thought on Danny’s part, in hindsight. “I’m going out.” Louise runs a hand down her face,

“Right, let’s go.” Danny thinks about telling her she wants to go alone, but she really doesn’t, so she lets Louise lead the way.

Apparently, this is the right decision, because Louise takes them to a quaint little bar where she apparently knows people. It’s nice to be around someone who knows her, Danny decides, even if it’s her begrudging coworker.

“Ooh, she’s got you,” Louise giggles to herself after a lull in conversation, “she’s got you good.” Danny’s eyebrows knit together in confusion,

“What?” She questions, Louise’s hand reaches out for the locket around Danny’s neck.

“You’re wearing her initial, Danielle,” she says, incredibly amused at the fact, “did you not notice?”

“Is that… normal?” A dumb question, “I mean, does she not normally give her assistants—“

“Collars? No.”

“It’s not a collar,” Danny insists. Louise shrugs.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” she takes a sip of her drink and Danny heaves a sigh.

“We should probably get going,” she decides, Louise hums and tosses a wad of cash on the bar, standing to leave, “I don’t think that’s— whatever.” She grumbles and follows her out.

Armand is still gone when Danny gets back, and she feels like she should wait up. Just to see her, or to talk. Maybe she needs something, who knows. Maybe it’s not that weird, she thinks, it’s probably a coincidence, she probably didn’t know about the A. That’s it.

“Danielle!” Armand is shocked at the sight of her waiting, “I thought you’d be out.”

“Thought I should wait up. In case you needed anything,” she shifts in her seat, “do you need anything?” Armand sits down next to her,

“Nothing in particular, no,” She shakes her head, observing as Danny nods and goes back to reading her book. “You looked nice today.”

“You’d think so, you dressed me,” she responds, not looking up from the book. A moment passes before she does, closing it and setting it aside. “Hey, what’s the deal with the locket?”

“I’m sorry?” The question catches Armand off guard.

“It’s got an A on it.”

“Ah, does it?” She seems surprised, “I must’ve forgotten, I apologize.”

“Right.” Danny says. That makes perfect sense. “Of course.”

“It was given to me by my ex husband,” Armand confesses, glancing to Danny’s chest,

“You were married?”

“Breifly,” she looks away, “he was… not right for me. I worked too much for him.”

“Oh.” Danny doesn’t know what to say, “I’m, uh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was no loss for me,” is all she says. For once in her life, Danny doesn’t press. Armand doesn’t offer anymore information. Shortly, they go to bed, where they each lie awake for longer than usual with wandering thoughts.

In the morning, something in the air has changed. They both feel it. Neither says anything. They just sit in the common area, having their room service breakfast as Danny lists off their schedule.

“—then there’s the show for that lady at eleven, annnnd… nothing else until dinner,” Danny grins as she closes her notes, looking up at Armand.

“Perfect,” Armand glances at her watch, “Louise should have our clothes, could you fetch them?”

“You got it, boss.” She shovels the last bite of her food into her mouth and gives Armand a thumbs up before heading out.

There’s four bags, which isn’t quite an egregious amount for Armand, but it’s more than the expected two. She suppresses her groan and takes the bags from Louise, rushing back to the suite.

“I got them!” She yells as she nudges the door closed with her foot. “All four.”

“Wonderful! Let’s see them.” She grabs them off her, separating her own from Danny’s. After briefly glancing over each, she decides, “here, put this on now, and this one for dinner.”

“…Why can’t I just wear one?” Armand gives her a look, “got it. My bad.” She says under her breath, taking her outfits.

These are certainly a step up, she thinks as she stares at herself in the mirror. This time Armand chose a sleek navy suit that Danny is a big fan of. She’s got a lot more movement in this. So she fixes her hair and pulls on her shoes and goes back into the common area to get Armand.

“You ready? The car should be here any minute.” She asks, adjusting her sleeves, still checking herself out in the window reflection. A ghost of a smile graces Armand’s lips at the prospect of being perfectly early, just how she likes.

“After you,” she says as she grabs her bag and stands, following Danny down to the lobby. They’re a very handsome pair, there’s bound to be photos of them all over in the morning. It’s something Armand silently delights in as she brings her hand to gently rest against the small of Danny’s back, guiding her out to the car.

“Don’t sit like that,” Armand tuts, smacking her assistant’s knee with the back of her hand.

“Ow!” Danny yelps, “what was that for!” She straightens up, scooting away from Armand.

“We are going to be front row. Sit properly, please.” Danny huffs and does as she’s told, crossing her ankles,

“I’m not even wearing a dress, it’s not—“ Armand holds up a hand to silence her, “fine, yes ma’am.” She says indignantly.

The show goes off without a hitch, besides the fact that Danny can’t focus on anything other than Armand’s hand resting on her knee. But she sits with her legs crossed, and Armand seems happy enough.

That night, as they’re both getting ready for dinner, Armand calls her into her room.

“You are so unkempt,” she says quietly to herself, working some sort of gel through Danny’s curls, “truly, it is a miracle you don’t have… creatures in here, Danielle.” Danny just stares up at her with wide eyes.

“…what?” Is all she can get out as Armand pushes her hair back out of her face. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping your hair out of your eyes so we can see your beautiful face,” she says, deadpan. Danny can’t tell if she’s making a joke. “That’s all.”

“Thanks?” She murmurs as Armand goes back to doing her makeup. Lingering in the doorframe, she clears her throat, “Armand?”

“Yes, Darling?” She answers, wiping mascara from her eyelid.

“You look really nice tonight.” Danny says without thinking. She’s beginning to think Armand is the most gorgeous woman in the world. She watches as Armand opens her mouth to say something, then pauses.

“Thank you, Danielle,” is what she settles on saying. “That’s all.” Danny’s lips press into a tight smile,

“‘Course, boss. We’re leaving in ten,” she says, and leaves. In total, she waits eighteen minutes, seven on the couch for Armand, and eleven in the car to dinner. It feels like an eternity. The event isn’t much better. Mostly, she watches as her boss chat with people she doesn’t seem to like. Occasionally Armand will nod in the direction of a couple approaching them, silently prompting Danny to tell her their name. Like now, she gives a pointed look between Danny and two other rapidly approaching guests.

“That— um, that’s Jasper from Talamasca magazine. The little one is his boyfriend Guy,” she whispers quickly, “major age gap if you ask me—“

“I didn’t.” She places a hand on her arm to silence her, “Jasper! Lovely seeing you tonight!” She greets, wrapping one arm around the older man. Danny tunes them out as they talk business, something about spring color pallets and silks.

Eventually, they part ways. Armand kisses them each on the cheek and smiles as they walk away, after which she excuses herself. When twenty minutes pass and she still hasn’t returned, Danny gets a little frantic; Armand isn’t picking up the phone, and she’s not in her seat and Danny really feels like she shouldn’t be alone at this thing.

She finds her on an eerily empty balcony, staring out over Paris with a cigarette between her fingers. She looks like a dream; for a second Danny just stands there, mouth ajar, her eyes roving over Armand’s body in that dress— that elegant purple silk dress—

“It’s rude to stare,” she says without even sparing Danny a glance, “I thought I’d lost you.” She stamps out her cigarette and turns.

“My bad, I just, uh—” she clears her throat and starts over, “You just look… stunning.” Armand laughs, Danny steps closer.

“You’ve mentioned,” she smiles as Danny approaches her.

“Well, it’s true,” Danny doubles down.

“I’m sure it is,” Armand grabs her tie, pulling her closer, bringing her free hand to rest at the back of Danny’s neck. “It takes one to—“

Danny closes the distance between them. She feels the shocked gasp her boss lets out against her lips before settling, her hands finding their place at Danny’s hips.

“Sorry,” Danny breaths out as soon as they part for air, wiping Armand’s lipstick off her mouth with the back of her hand. “Please don’t fire me.” She wrings her hands, staring up at Armand with a nervous smile. Armand stares back for a moment with those big, amber bug eyes before bursting into an uncharacteristic fit of laughter.

“I’m not going to fire you, Danielle,” she says after regaining her composure.

“No?”

“No. What good would that do anyone?”

“I figured, isn’t this, like… illegal? Or an HR violation or something?” Danny asks, deeply confused.

“I can assure you it will be no problem with HR,” Armand responds confidently, “nor with the law, don’t be so nervous.”

“I was just making sure.” Danny mutters, eliciting an amused hum from Armand, who quickly pulls her in and places another kiss at the crown of her head.

“Shall we head back to the room?” Armand asks coolly, already starting towards the building’s entrance.

“Together?” Danny blurts without thinking,

“We’re sharing a suite, Darling. Don’t be perverse.” Armand chides, grabbing Danny’s hand to lead her.

“Right, right,” Danny nods, “‘course, boss.”

A/N: seven thousand words! I feel so official! I have a sneaking suspicion this is gonna flop but… shrug