Three days after fucking Sophia against my window, I was back at LENS Studios. This time, it was for a group editorial--five models, including both Sophia and Vi, for W Magazine's "Next Generation" issue. The irony wasn't lost on me that Vi, at twenty-seven, was positioned as part of the "next generation" alongside girls half a decade younger.
I arrived early, before Marco or any of the models. The studio assistants knew me by now, nodding as I moved through the space, setting up according to the lighting diagrams I'd received the night before. I worked methodically, precisely, each movement economical.
"You're making the rest of us look bad, you know."
I glanced up to see Trent, one of the other assistants, watching me with a mixture of admiration and resentment. Mid-twenties, film school dropout, desperately trying to network his way into a directing job.
"Just doing my job," I replied, adjusting a soft box.
"Yeah, but you don't have to be so fucking good at it." He laughed, the sound hollow. "Marco's been talking about you. Says you've got 'the eye.'"
I shrugged, not taking the bait for elaboration. Trent hovered a moment longer, then wandered off when I didn't engage further.
The truth was, Marco had been showing increased interest in my input lately. After the Vogue Italia shoot, he'd asked to see some of my personal work--black and white street photography I shot on film, nothing special but technically sound. He'd studied them longer than courtesy required, asked about my background. I'd fed him the story I gave everyone: middle-class family from Portland, photography degree from a state school, moved to New York to pursue fashion work. Just enough details to satisfy without revealing anything that mattered.
The studio doors opened, and Sophia walked in, followed by two other models I recognized from agency rosters--Elise Chen and Mariana Alvarez. Sophia spotted me immediately, her face lighting up with a smile that was a little too familiar.
"Danny!" she called, breaking away from the others and approaching me. She leaned in for a kiss on the cheek, her hand lingering on my arm. "You didn't tell me you'd be here today."
I returned her smile with a measured one of my own. "Marco likes consistency in his team."
The other models watched our interaction with undisguised curiosity. I could see the calculations happening behind their eyes--the assistant was fucking Sophia, which meant he might have Marco's ear, which meant he might be worth knowing.
"Elise, Mariana," Sophia said, turning to them. "This is Danny Marshall, Marco's right hand."
A stretch, but I didn't correct her.
"Nice to meet you," Elise said, offering a slim hand. Chinese-American, elegant features, reputation for professionalism. "Sophia mentioned you helped with the lighting on her Vogue shots. They turned out incredible."
"Marco's vision," I deflected. "I just execute."
"Modest too," Mariana commented, her Venezuelan accent adding music to the words. "Unusual in this business."
Before I could respond, the doors opened again, and Marco strode in, trailing assistants and stylists like remoras after a shark. He spotted me and nodded his approval at the lighting setup.
"Danny, come see," he called, beckoning me over to his laptop. I excused myself from the models and joined him. He showed me the concept boards for today's shoot--stark, architectural styling against soft, ethereal backdrops. "What do you think about adding a hard light from the left? Create more shadow play on the sculpted pieces?"
I studied the boards, aware that the models were watching this exchange with interest. "Could work. We'd need to adjust the key light to compensate, maybe lower the ambient fill."
Marco nodded thoughtfully. "Set it up. Let's test when the first girl is ready."
I returned to the lighting rig, conscious of how this interaction would be perceived. Marco Visconti asking an assistant's opinion, then implementing it? It wouldn't go unnoticed. As I worked, I saw Sophia watching me, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She thought she understood what was happening--that I was using her to climb the ladder. She didn't realize she was just one rung.
The studio doors opened once more, and Vi entered, followed closely by the fifth model--a willowy redhead named Taylor. Vi wore the same impenetrable expression as always, sunglasses despite the indoor setting, wrapped in what appeared to be a different but equally expensive cashmere coat. She scanned the studio, taking in the scene--Sophia and the other models watching me, Marco directing the styling team.
For a moment, her gaze lingered on me. I kept working, not acknowledging her attention, but I felt it like a physical touch. Then she turned away, heading for hair and makeup without greeting anyone.
The shoot progressed efficiently. Marco worked through the models one by one, then in pairs and finally group shots. Throughout, I adjusted lighting, suggested angles, remained the silent professional. But I made sure to touch Sophia casually whenever she was nearby--a hand at the small of her back, fingers brushing her arm. Nothing inappropriate, nothing that could be called unprofessional, but enough to establish a claim that everyone, including Vi, would notice.
Vi herself remained aloof, perfect in front of the camera, invisible when not actively being photographed. She would disappear into a corner with her phone, or speak quietly with her agent who had arrived midway through the shoot. Not once did she engage with the other models beyond what was necessary for the photographs.
But I caught her watching me twice more--once when I was showing Marco a lighting effect on my phone, and again when I handed Sophia a bottle of water, my fingers deliberately lingering against hers.
Each time, Vi looked away the instant I might have caught her, but not before I registered something in her expression. Not interest, exactly. More like... puzzlement. As if I were an equation that didn't quite add up.
During a break in shooting, I overheard Mariana and Elise talking near the craft services table.
"Who is that assistant?" Mariana asked quietly. "The one Sophia's all over."
"Danny something," Elise replied. "He's new, I think. But Marco seems to like him."
"Sophia certainly does." Mariana's tone was knowing. "Wonder if he's as good as she claims."
"Since when does Sophia share details?"
"Since last night at Soho House when she had three martinis and wouldn't shut up about the 'mystery assistant with the magic hands.'"
They both laughed, then noticed me approaching and quickly shifted to discussing an upcoming casting. I pretended not to have heard, getting coffee before returning to the set.
So Sophia was talking. Good. Let the whispers spread.
Near the end of the shoot, Marco called for a series of solo shots of Vi. She emerged from a wardrobe change in a structural white gown that seemed to defy gravity, her hair now swept up to expose the elegant line of her neck.
"Danny," Marco called, "bring the hard light in closer. I want more definition on the dress."
I moved the light as directed, stepping into Vi's space. This close, I could see the fine texture of her skin beneath the makeup, the almost imperceptible tension in her jaw. I adjusted the light, then paused, studying the effect.
"It's washing out the detail on the right shoulder," I said to Marco.
"Hmm." Marco frowned. "What do you suggest?"
I hesitated, then looked directly at Vi for the first time. "May I?"
A flicker of surprise crossed her features--perhaps at being asked permission, perhaps at being addressed at all. After a moment, she gave a curt nod.
I reached out, not touching her but indicating the fabric on her shoulder. "If you could turn about five degrees to your left, the light will catch the pleating detail."
Vi held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then turned exactly as I had suggested. The light caught the architectural folds of the dress, creating precisely the dramatic effect Marco wanted.
"Perfect," Marco said, already shooting. "Danny, you have good eyes."
Vi didn't acknowledge me again, but I had felt it--that momentary connection, the first time she had actually seen me as something more than furniture. It was infinitesimal, but it was there.
When the shoot wrapped, Vi left immediately as usual. Sophia lingered, clearly expecting to continue where we'd left off three nights ago.
"Dinner?" she suggested, sidling up to me as I packed equipment. "I know a quiet place in the West Village."
"Can't tonight," I said, giving her a regretful smile. "Meeting an old friend."
Disappointment flashed across her face. "Tomorrow, then?"
I pretended to consider my schedule. "I should be free. I'll text you."
She brightened, leaning in to kiss my cheek again. "Don't keep me waiting too long," she murmured, her voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. "I've been thinking about that window all day."
After she left, Marco approached as I finished storing the last of the equipment.
"Drink?" he offered. "I want to talk to you about something."
---
Marco's "something" turned out to be an offer: a promotion from assistant to second shooter on his team. It would mean more money, more creative input, and most importantly, more visibility within the industry. I accepted with just enough enthusiasm to seem grateful but not desperate.
"You have potential," Marco said over scotch at a dark bar in the Meatpacking District. "More than these other kids running around with cameras thinking they're the next Testino."
"I appreciate the opportunity," I said.
Marco studied me over his glass. "You're fucking Sophia Miller."
It wasn't a question, and his tone held no judgment--merely stating a fact.
"Is that a problem?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Your business. But word travels fast in this industry. You should know that."
"I'm aware."
"Good." He swirled his scotch. "Because I don't care who you fuck on your own time, but I need someone focused when we're working. The moment it affects the job, we have an issue."
"It won't."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "There's a shoot next week. Fragrance campaign for Dior. Vi's the face." He watched me carefully as he said this. "You'll be handling the behind-the-scenes content. Still and video."
I kept my expression neutral despite the surge of anticipation. "Sounds good."
"She's not an easy one to work with," Marco continued. "Brilliant in front of the camera, difficult everywhere else. Especially with new people."
