Page 20 of I Want You

At five past nine, the Velvet & Silk newsroom is a hive of activity. Staff members rush around with clothing racks loaded with clothes, the printers are running hot, and the reception phone won’t stop ringing. Harper crosses the floor with her cup of Starbucks coffee and her chin held high.

As she enters the open-plan office, her heart skips a wild beat.

Victoria is standing by the central table, leaning over a giant printed layout. She’s wearing cream-colored high-waisted pants and a black silk blouse with the top buttons undone. Her hair falls in perfect waves, and she has that furrowed brow—that look of concentration—that Harper knows so well.

Hearing the door, Victoria looks up.

Her intense, magnetic green eyes lock onto Harper’s. For an endless second, the air in the office seems to vanish. It’s impossible not to look at her mouth and remember the taste of mint and coffee, or to look at her hands and not feel the pressure of those fingers inside her body.

“Good morning,” Victoria greets her, as if the night before she hadn’t stained her fingers with Harper’s wetness.

“Good morning,” Harper replies as she sets her bag on the desk.

Victoria holds her gaze for a couple more seconds, analyzing Harper’s stiff posture, before taking a step back and crossing her arms.

“I guess we’re here for the same reason.”

“Exactly,” Harper agrees, letting the table serve as a wall between them. “Last night was crazy. Something that can’t happen again under any circumstances.”

Victoria raises an eyebrow elegantly. Her expression is an impenetrable mask, but Harper senses that she doesn’t entirely agree, despite what she says next:

“I completely agree,” Victoria replies coldly. “It was a lapse unbecoming of our position. We both let exhaustion get the better of us and crossed an unacceptable professional line. I accept my share of the blame.”

Harper blinks. Wow. She’d expected some resistance, or at least a sarcastic remark. Hearing Victoria describe what happened as an “inappropriate lapse” stings her pride a little.

“Great. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Of course. We’re adults. We have a board meeting next week, and we can’t let… physical distractions interfere with our work.”

“Sounds perfect to me,” Harper says.

“But from now on, I ask that you not provoke me,” she wants to add.

Victoria’s smile fades, and her gaze drifts to all the paperwork on the table.

“Then we’ll act as if last night never happened.”

Harper forces herself to break eye contact and buries herself in the spreadsheet spread out before her.

For the next two hours, the office becomes a masterclass in efficiency. Despite the invisible barrier they’ve erected, the rapport between them on a professional level is almost uncanny.

“The advertisers have asked us to move these four pages,” Victoria says, pointing to a section highlighted in blue with a marker. “They want to put the Chanel spread right after the main interview.”

Harper examines the layout and immediately shakes her head.

“No way. That’s going to break the narrative. If we put an aggressive ad right after such an intimate piece, we’ll kill the reading flow. The jewelry section has to go before the editorial.”

Victoria stares at her in silence for three seconds. Harper braces herself for the upcoming argument, holding her breath.

“I told them exactly the same thing,” Victoria reveals, and a small, triumphant smile lights up her face. “And the editor looked at me as if I were pulling his leg.”

Harper blinks, surprised.

“Did you defend the narrative flow over the commercial one?”

“Of course,” Victoria affirms. “I may have spent five years in Paris, but I still know how a prestigious magazine is structured, Harper. I’m not going to let them ruin the flow of the issue just to squeeze out a few thousand more in advertising revenue.”

“Wow,” Harper murmurs, feeling an absurd warmth in her chest. “We should celebrate this.”