Everyone, even Simon, had warned Jules that working for Vivian would be a trial by fire. She had thought she was ready for that. Not even close. She hadn’t foreseen this particular situation. Not one where she’d throw her back out to help someone known for tossing employees to the curb.

Vivian couldn’t be trusted, no matter how compelling she was — in a way Jules couldn’t pin down at all. She thought it was something about the intensity of her eyes. Or the way amusement sometimes lurked at the corner of her proud mouth. Or the way she strode through the world as if it belonged to her and everyone else had one second to get out of her path.

Or maybe it was the way she was slogging through one of the shittiest situations ever, keeping her head up by day and lying awake thinking about it by night.

It’s not a big deal, Jules told herself. You’re just helping her out. You’re her assistant. That’s your job.

The job description had included the phrase “other duties as assigned.”

Jules clapped a hand over her mouth, too late to stop a semihysterical laugh that sounded too loud in the apartment. How had she gotten herself into this?

She hadn’t. Vivian Carlisle had happened to her, like an avalanche or tsunami, as sudden and unforgiving as any natural disaster.

That was the thing about nature, though. It was frightening, dangerous, unpredictable—yes, all that. It was also exciting. Inspiring. Even beautiful.

Jules shook her head as she pulled the blankets back over herself. She squeezed her eyes shut, determined to recoup what she could of the night’s sleep. She doubted it would work, but she might as well try.

Eventually, it did. Her sleep wasn’t restful, though. In her dreams, Vivian stood above her atop a storm cloud. Bolts of electricity crackled all around her before driving themselves into the ground. Jules dodged and weaved through them, her hair standing on end.

Something must be wrong with her. Because she kept wondering if maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to be struck by lightning.

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

The abortion clinic opened at six. Jules made the second phone call of the morning from her bed, wiping sleep out of her eyes as she canceled the appointment. Good thing too because Vivian called her at six forty-five, just as Jules was putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

She looked at her phone resting on the lip of the sink as Vivian’s name appeared and her heart jumped into her throat. Was it going to be weird today? Would anything have changed after last night’s conversation?

Best to play it safe. She swiped the screen to answer the phone and took on her perkiest morning voice. “Vivian! Hi. I canceled—”

“Meet me at Preston’s office in half an hour. Bring coffee. Decaf.”