Page 9 of I Want You

It had never occurred to her to view her arrival in New York from that perspective.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Harper replies, now much harsher and colder. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. No one is going to take away what I’ve earned through my own hard work. Not Eleanor… not Victoria.”

Victoria forces herself to walk away before they discover her. She heads toward the office with rage coursing through her veins. Upon entering, she finds a stack of large-format photographs on her desk. Harper walks in a few seconds later and hangs her purse on the coat rack.

“Julian just sent the proofs,” Harper says, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Victoria picks up the first photograph and examines it.

“Option four is fine.”

“I’d prefer number seven,” Harper corrects her, approaching her desk. “The geometric composition is infinitely more interesting.”

Harper places both photographs side by side and rests her palms on the table.

“We could go for a mix of both, don’t you think?” Harper suggests, a smile playing on her lips.

Victoria looks down at Harper’s fingers and then back up at her lips.

“You, giving in to my suggestion? I don’t believe it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to start doing just that,” Harper replies. “I think it could work—it would make a lot of visual sense.”

“All right, let’s design this blend of concepts.”

*

That very night, Victoria’s suitcases remain wide open on the carpet in her bedroom.

She’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by sweaters and dresses she hasn’t been able to fit into the closets. Her new apartment on the Upper East Side is elegant, spacious, and so magnificent that it looks like a movie set. She rented it from Paris without seeing it in person and hired an interior designer to furnish it. And now, she partly sees it as a mistake, because so much of her is missing within those four walls.

The doorbell rings, breaking the silence.

“That’s odd… I’m not expecting anyone.”

Victoria sighs. When she opens the door, she finds her brother Liam Vance, loaded down with two bags of Thai food, a bottle of red wine, and the brightest smile in Manhattan.

“Welcome to New York!” Liam calls out to her.

Her brother steps into the apartment, sets the bags on the kitchen counter, and pulls her into a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” Victoria murmurs against his shoulder.

“I know. I’m generous, handsome, and wealthy—it’s impossible not to miss me,” Liam boasts as they pull apart. “I brought pad thai, spring rolls, and a red wine that’s incredible. How did your first few hours on the job go?”

“Mmmm… very focused on production.”

Liam narrows his eyes.

“Just that?” Liam rummages through the bag for the corkscrew. “Because I heard your welcome back included a high-tension face-off with Harper. Tell me you didn’t throw your heels at each other.”

Victoria looks at him in horror.

“How the hell do you know about Harper?”

“New York has over eight million people, but in the publishing industry, gossip travels fast.” Liam uncorks the bottle and pours two glasses.

“I can handle it,” Victoria assures him, taking the glass he offers her. “We’re professionally focused on the magazine. Nothing more.”