It was the sort of message she’d never have dared send to Vivian before, even though it was logical and true. But now things were different between them. Vivian wouldn’t demand the impossible like she would have before.

Right?

Vivian replied:

Fine. Let me know when it’s on the way.

Jules’s chest lightened with instant, reflexive relief. Whew. Then she frowned. Reflexive relief, indeed. She’d gone back to being a lowly assistant in a flash, hadn’t she? Freaking out about letting Vivian down. You probably weren’t supposed to feel that way about interacting with your lover.

Especially when your lover was your boss.

“Ma’am? Are you there?” the voice on the phone prompted.

“Oh!” Jules shook herself out. “Sorry. Yes. That’ll be fine. Thanks.”

She finished the arrangements and looked at her phone. She texted Vivian again:

I’ll take the subway to work today

Vivian replied:

All right. See you soon.

A few seconds later:

Happy birthday.

Something about the period after birthday made Jules snort with laughter. How festive. Maybe Vivian would show up carrying a bunch of black balloons too.

The amusement sustained her until she was on her way out the door. By the time she reached the subway, though, it had withered away. Instead, she kept going back to how it had felt to worry about disappointing Vivian professionally. Waiting for the hammer to fall the way it used to.

Vivian had told Jules in London that she wasn’t like the other people who worked for her. That she wanted Jules to have faith in Vivian’s feelings for her. At the time, Jules hadn’t worried it would be a problem. But maybe Vivian had a point.

And that wasn’t even counting the uncomfortable sensation Jules still felt in her gut whenever she thought about the Modernity article.

She rested her forehead against the subway pole she held. No, it wasn’t hygienic, but sometimes you just needed a place to bang your head.

Happy birthday indeed.

Jules reached Koening at seven forty-five. Unfortunately, she just missed the elevator. She sighed, rocking back on her heels. At least she had some extra time, since Vivian would be late.

“Going up?”

Jules blinked and turned. Mark Tavio was standing behind her, smiling.

He was a tall, thin man with sharp cheekbones, a full head of white hair, and a love of bespoke charcoal suits. His gray eyes were known for lowering the temperature of any room by at least ten degrees. And he carried himself with the easy grace of a man who knew himself to be powerful.

Her heart jumped into her throat. The anxiety she’d felt about displeasing Vivian suddenly felt like nothing when she was faced with the chairman of Koening. Especially when that chairman had been gunning for Vivian for months.

Right now, though, Mr. Tavio’s smile seemed benign as he looked down on her.