Vivian was offering to debase herself, show her underbelly to a foe to protect Jules. She’d give her something way more important and far more painful than a call to an editor at Modernity. And she knew it; the grim resolve in her eyes said so.

All day, Jules had been miserable that she’d lost her job. But now that she had it within reach again—even if the victory was tainted—it didn’t seem half as desirable. The cost was far too high for them both.

Vivian lifted her chin, a lofty gesture that didn’t hide the flash of pain in her eyes. “I’m not hearing an instant yes.”

There was that awful stomach cramp again. “I-I need a second to think about it. Hey, um…why don’t you have a look around my place while I think? I spent hours cleaning it up for you.”

For a second, Vivian appeared mystified. Professional cleaners came to her house weekly. She’d probably forgotten a layperson could vacuum.

“It won’t take you long,” Jules said dryly.

“Well…” Vivian looked around. “I can’t deny I’ve been curious.”

Jules brightened at that. “Really?”

“Of course.” Vivian stood. “I wanted to know if your décor is like your clothes.”

Jules couldn’t help glancing at the overstuffed ottoman that had belonged to her grandmother. It was covered in slightly worn pale green velvet with cream-colored tassels. She loved it, but she couldn’t imagine anything less Vivian’s style. “Boho?”

“Well, a little more interesting than that.” Vivian began to wander the apartment, pausing at the IKEA bookshelves to scrutinize Jules’s book collection before moving to the windows. Instead of taking in the view, though, she touched the rust-colored curtains, taking the edge of one between her fingers and her thumb.

“I made those,” Jules blurted out.

Vivian looked back at her with wide eyes. Did she think Jules could afford to drop the money on overpriced curtains at Pottery Barn? She said, “They’re…very nice. I like the, um”—she looked at the curtains again—“even stitching. Anyway, keep thinking while I look around your home.” She left the room.

Jules held back a sigh. Vivian was right, though. That stitching was super even. Jules had spent hours on it.

She didn’t like making mistakes. Better to get it right the first time, especially now.

Maybe Vivian thought she could handle Mark Tavio, but she wasn’t thinking it through. She couldn’t be. Otherwise she’d have come to the same conclusion Jules had. Vivian asking for Jules’s job? It would be a huge red flag, begging him to look below the surface to see what was going on. Just what they didn’t need.

It was a great excuse. Practical, logical. It wouldn’t hurt Vivian’s feelings. Jules could say it was why she wasn’t coming back.