“I don’t recall the doctor asking you for your input, Julia.” Her tone had gone cold.

Jules pressed her lips together. She better not get fired over two cups of coffee. “I was asking about something I’ll need to know to do my job.”

“I’ve had a lot of people doing your job. None of them have dared…”

Vivian trailed off as if she couldn’t remember what previous assistants hadn’t dared to do. Breathe without permission, probably.

But they hadn’t taken notes on Vivian’s pregnancy either, and if this was now Jules’s job, then she shouldn’t be berated for doing it right. She looked straight into Vivian’s eyes, silently telling her so.

Without another word, Vivian turned on her heel and headed outside to the car.

Jules could have sworn she growled.

They approached the car, where Ben held open a rear door. Just out of his hearing, Vivian muttered, “You’ll make the obstetrician appointment.”

“Of course.”

Vivian slid inside the car, and Jules hurried around to her own door, knowing that Vivian hated even the five-second delay between bullet-rapid instructions.

“Ben, take me home and then return Julia to Du Jour. Julia, confirm that we have Praeger, Lawson & Day tomorrow at ten,” Vivian said as soon as Jules slid into the seat next to her.

“I’ve called them. You should be good to go.”

“I should be?”

Jules blinked and then made the connection. Well, asking about coffee hadn’t been enough to boot her out of this job after all.

“We should be,” she said, strangely breathless.

“Arrive at their offices at nine thirty,” Vivian said. “Don’t bother stopping by Du Jour first. And don’t be late.”

“Right.” She was already anticipating sleeping in.

“Then get in touch with my personal trainer and arrange for her to come to my home this weekend. Early Saturday morning, and I mean early. And tomorrow afternoon, go to Givenchy with Lucia. Bring me back a full report. Hers aren’t up to scratch these days.”

“Got it.” Jules’s thumbs flew over her phone screen.

“Good.” Vivian looked out the window, her hands folded in her lap. She didn’t look appreciably calmer after her doctor’s visit—maybe she’d been hoping she was wrong, that she wasn’t pregnant.

Jules looked out her own window, remembered her own scare, and decided for the fiftieth time that she wouldn’t trade places with Vivian for all the Fendi bags in the world.

When they arrived at Vivian’s home, Jules made to get out of the car as she had the last time. Vivian waved her off and unbuckled her seat belt. Before she got out, she gave Jules an intent, penetrating look.

Against her will, Jules shivered.

“Be discreet,” was all Vivian said. Then she was gone.

“What’s going on?” Ben asked in the car as he pulled away from the curb.