Luckily, Jules and Ben were both so busy for the next few days that they didn’t get a chance to talk, even when they were alone—they were still sleepy when Ben picked Jules up in the mornings and half-dead when he dropped her off at night. It probably wasn’t good to have that much in common with somebody you dated.

* * *

Vivian left for London on the twenty-second. Jules accompanied her to the airport to take care of last-minute details and instructions before she vanished through the security checkpoint.

Now at said checkpoint, Vivian was glaring at the metal detectors, the long lines, and the miserable TSA agents. “Look at this. For God’s sake, a handful of terrorists got lucky over two decades ago, and we’re still making things as inconvenient as possible.”

Jules looked deep within herself and failed to detect even trace amounts of sympathy. Vivian had Global Entry, which sped her through the security process. Plus she was traveling first class, which meant shorter lines for everything.

Meanwhile, Jules was taking the train to Philadelphia tonight, which wasn’t exactly glamorous. But all she said was “yes, it’s awful.”

Vivian barreled on. “And when I spoke to Michelle this morning, I could barely understand what she was saying. Terrible phone reception.”

Michelle was the temporary personal assistant Vivian had retained in London. Michelle’s recruitment firm had pushed her forward as their best and brightest choice, and Vivian had accepted their recommendation with apparent disinterest.

Which was fine. Jules was not jealous. At all. It was temporary, and it would be nice for some other sucker to be at Vivian’s beck and call for a few days.

Besides, Michelle wouldn’t be as good at working for Vivian as Jules was. No way. This wasn’t arrogance or anything, she told herself. Vivian was the arrogant one. It was just a fact.

“And the weather’s dismal,” Vivian continued. “They haven’t seen the sun for days.”

“I’m sorry,” Jules said through her teeth. Gosh, going to London for Christmas and you’ve got some fog. How terrible. Vivian should have rented in Tahiti instead.

“And of course I’m going to have to check in with Preston almost every day,” she spat, “now that Robert—”

Vivian suddenly seemed to realize where they were and how angry she sounded because she cut herself off.

Jules stayed quiet this time. Robert had been remarkably amenable so far to Vivian’s request that he sign himself right out of his own kid’s life. Preston was still drawing up the paperwork, ensuring there were no loopholes.

It was pissing Vivian off like nothing else. She probably hadn’t expected Robert to put up no resistance. She’d been anticipating battle and victory. Instant surrender wasn’t as satisfying.