Page 3 of My Daddy Valentine

I manage a small smile, despite myself. “Right. I’ll be fine as long as I can avoid Simon Weber.”

Yeah, the last thing I need is some grumpy, attractive artist in my life. Even if he is famous, and could probably teach me more about art in twenty minutes than whoever my mentor will be in a lifetime.

Ava raises an eyebrow, looking more mischievous than ever. “You might be saying that now...”

I groan and drop my head back against the couch. “Let’s just get this over with. The sooner I can get my stuff settled, the sooner I can get to my internship.”

She grins. “Alright, let’s unpack. But just so you know, the universe might have other plans for you and Simon.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “I’m not falling for that.”

But a part of me wonders...What if I do?

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 atLinden & Co. Gallery. I can’t afford to be distracted. I don’t have time to think about somearrogant 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—theart 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 atLinden & 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 wearinga 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.

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