Jules kept her hands steady as she slipped the Agnona cashmere around Vivian’s slender shoulders. She kept her hands firmly on the coat. Never touched Vivian, no matter how much she wanted to.

That night, she went to bed thinking of the sound of her chuckle, the way her lips had quirked, and the faint but undeniable shine in her eyes.

* * *

Vivian’s glow persisted through the next day. When she returned from her mysterious lunch, she gave Jules something that was almost an entire smile. Her eyes were sparkling.

Jules barely contained the grin she longed to give in return. It was hard. Vivian was happy, she was happy, and right now, right at this minute, things were pretty rosy. She was looking forward to London too. She’d had a blast at every other fashion week she’d ever attended, especially Paris, where Monique Leung had noticed her because Jules excelled at her job.

Life, Jules thought that night, is good.

Then the next day, she got a phone call.

It wasn’t a number she immediately recognized. “Vivian Carlisle’s office,” she said as she picked up.

“Hello,” a man’s deep voice said. “Is this Julia Moretti?”

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Oh good.” He sounded relieved. “Vivian said for me to talk to you if I ever couldn’t reach her.”

This was odd. “Uh, sure. What can I do for you?”

“Just tell her, when you catch her alone, that Stan Oppenheimer called. Tell her I have to cancel tomorrow evening. Something unavoidable’s come up. She ought to understand about that.” He chuckled.

“Unavoidable,” Jules repeated. “Oh. Okay.”

“Thanks. Tell her I’ll try to call her again later on her private number. We’ll get together soon.”

“Right.” She blinked. “Of course.”

“Bye.” The man ended the call.

She sat with her phone pressed hard against her cheek for a few moments before she snapped out of it. Then she realized that her free hand had been digging hard into the desk.

Stan Oppenheimer was one of the senior vice-presidents of Koening. He was also wealthy, divorced, and devilishly handsome. Great smile. Confident bearing. Wore bespoke suits. Rumor had it that he’d been interested in Vivian before her marriage to Robert, as a matter of fact.

She stood and walked into Vivian’s office. She was in the middle of sending Charlotte from accessories away. As Charlotte left, Jules cleared her throat.

“What?” Vivian asked.

When you catch her alone, Mr. Oppenheimer had said.

So Jules kept her voice low as she said, “Stan Oppenheimer just called.”

Before her eyes, Vivian’s gaze became sharp and interested. And bright. She leaned forward eagerly. She…glowed.

“He, um, has to cancel tomorrow evening. Something came up.”

Vivian’s eyes narrowed in obvious displeasure. She sat back, drumming her nails on the mahogany surface of her desk. The glow was gone.