The end result was whoa. The house featured an entryway with a fifteen-foot ceiling, a cast-iron winding staircase that led up to the private rooms, and exposed brick walls that might be original. The pale hardwood floors were polished to a gleam. Photos, prints, and paintings lined the walls. Jules was no expert, but she’d taken a contemporary art history class at Penn and recognized Shirin Neshat and Kandinsky. Holy shit, was that painting a real Lichtenstein? Pop art seemed a little unserious for Vivian.

Jules turned, then nearly jumped.

Vivian had returned with a glass of ice water and was standing at the entrance to the foyer, watching Jules silently.

“Mark Tavio called me this evening,” she said. “About half an hour ago.”

That didn’t sound good. “What about?”

Vivian’s chin jutted out. For a moment, she looked defiant. “He wanted to congratulate me on the pregnancy.”

That sounded on the surface like a perfectly nice thing to do. So why did it make Jules’s skin crawl? Judging by the look on Vivian’s face, she felt similarly.

“He offered generous maternity leave.” Vivian’s voice hardened. “Said I could take as much time away from the office as I liked, especially under the circumstances, which I’m assuming refers to…” She gestured vaguely.

It felt rude to say it. “The divorce?”

“He made a point of mentioning that he sympathizes, although he can’t relate, seeing as how he’s been happily married to the same woman for over forty years. Isn’t that sweet?”

“And he’s trying to get you out of the office.” Of course he was. If Mr. Tavio wanted to get rid of Vivian, it’d be much easier to plop a new editor down in Vivian’s vacant office chair.

The thought made her chest clench. No way would she work for anyone who replaced Vivian like that. As if anyone could replace Vivian at all.

Vivian’s eyes were hard. “He can try all he wants. I’ll protect what’s mine.”

Jesus. Jules tried not to swoon.

“As always, this information remains private,” Vivian added.

“Absolutely,” she replied with all the conviction a pathetically infatuated assistant could muster. That was a lot.

Vivian regarded her in silence.

Jules regarded her right back as her heart started racing again. She had to be imagining the softened gaze in Vivian’s eyes.

And…was her body tilting toward Jules ever so slightly? Her right heel left the ground; was she about to step forward? To do what?

Definitely not what Jules wanted her to do—definitely not an embrace followed by the kind of kiss you only saw in the movies. She’d never… Would she?