No, she told herself. It’s a party, you’re just going to see what’s up, and nobody can make you do anything. And it’s something just for you.

That helped.

At least temporarily. Vivian arrived at the Burberry show three minutes before it was due to start. After her lunch with Mr. Oppenheimer, she was flushed as if with excitement. Her eyes glowed with satisfaction. With pleasure.

Jules wanted to vomit. She found it almost impossible to pay attention to the show, and only with a huge surge of willpower did she keep things running smoothly until five in the afternoon, when she and Vivian returned to the townhouse.

As usual, Vivian retired immediately to her room without a word.

Jules tried to catch some badly needed shut-eye. But she only managed twenty minutes of fitful dozing, then gave up and decided to get ready for the party well ahead of time.

She wouldn’t wear fade-into-the-background black. She wasn’t going as Vivian’s shadow. For this, Jules was going to break out the deep green Vejas minidress she’d snagged a few weeks ago. Her credit card was still howling, but at least her legs looked incredible, especially when she slipped on nude vintage stilettos. Add a deep berry lip gloss, a fashionable tousle to her hair, et voilà.

Time to head downstairs and go over the schedule for the millionth time. Vivian would be ready soon.

Sure enough, as she stood in the kitchen looking at the schedule, she heard footsteps descending the stairs. Vivian had emerged from her room. Just as she had on New Year’s Eve, Jules turned to behold her as she came into view.

Vivian was dressed for dinner in a satin-trimmed ankle-length Simone Rocha, so current that a version had appeared on the runway this week. She’d had it customized so that it draped flatteringly over her midriff, and the bateau neckline showed off the elegant line of her throat. She looked absurdly beautiful.

Jules had expected no less, of course, and felt an ache in her heart just at the sight. It’s not fair. And you’re an idiot.

When Vivian saw her, her eyes widened in surprise. Jules wondered why until she remembered that she was in evening clothes too. Showing a lot of leg, no less, and on her night off.

“Why are you so dressed up?” Vivian asked. “I said you weren’t going to the dinner.”

“I know,” Jules said in surprise. Did Vivian think she’d forgotten? “I’m going somewhere else.”

“What? Where?”

The jig was up. Vivian didn’t like Monique Leung for some reason, and now Jules had to confess. It just hadn’t occurred to her that Vivian would give a shit where she was going, not after the cool she’d been showing all week.

“I was invited to a party,” she said. Maybe she could avoid mentioning Monique entirely. “Prabal Gurung’s throwing it.”