“Not where I was headed with that, although I appreciate how damn gay that publication’s staff is. I can’t believe Monique is still single. She broke up with her last girlfriend four months ago.”

“That’s not such a long time. Maybe Monique was really in love with her.”

“Monique was the one who left, as I understand it.” Simon gave her a sardonic look. “Vivian’s the Du Jour editor who got dumped. Don’t mix them up.”

“Believe me, I’m not.” Who could ever confuse Vivian Carlisle for someone else?

“Good. Keep your ear to the ground, Jules. You’re not one to miss the chance when opportunity knocks.”

He couldn’t know about Jules’s encounter with Monique on New Year’s Eve, could he? Surely Vivian wouldn’t have told him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Sorry?” Simon looked innocently over Jules’s shoulder. “Oh, look. Our mistress calls.”

Jules followed his gaze. Vivian was giving her an impatient look from across the room. “Whoops. I have to go. You coming?”

He waved his hand in dismissal. “I want to sober up before the Azzarello show at four. Just remember what I said.”

Remember what? She hurried after Vivian. Simon could be cryptic at the best of times, and it was even worse when he’d had a drink or two.

Still, something interesting had happened. Jules couldn’t deny she was intrigued, and she’d be able to make the Prabal Gurung party, since Vivian was otherwise engaged. What had Randall said? Eight o’clock, St. Martins Lane, The Blind Spot.

It was enough to put her in a good mood for a few seconds. Then Vivian said as they were approaching the car, “I’ve scheduled lunch with Stan tomorrow in the window between the Carolina Herrera and the Burberry shows. Keep it quiet.”

Prabal Gurung’s party might as well not even have existed then. So this was how Vivian and Mr. Oppenheimer were going to manage some alone time.

“Of course,” she said, trying not to let her voice shake. Vivian hardly seemed to notice her as she got in the car.

Don’t dwell, Jules had to remind herself yet again.

They got back to the townhouse almost at midnight. For only the second time all week, as Jules helped her with her coat, Vivian spoke. “I’ll want to rest before the dinner tomorrow night. We’ll return here at five.”

They would? “Okay,” she said carefully. “I’m not supposed to go to the dinner too, am I?” It wasn’t on the schedule, but with Vivian’s caprices…

“Of course not.” Vivian clearly couldn’t believe Jules had asked such a dumb question. She walked away.