Page 22
Four hours later, Victoria is sitting in her first-class seat with a glass of champagne in her right hand and Harper practically glued to her side.
The situation should be comfortable. But it isn’t. Not when the woman next to her is her ex-wife, smells of an intoxicating blend of scents, and is wearing a green suit that looks absolutely stunning on her.
They’ve spent the morning rushing through security checks, making frantic phone calls, and sending emails in a hurry.
Victoria pulls out the dossier for the fourth time and begins to read.
“The clause is pretty clear,” Victoria says, tapping her finger on a specific sentence. “And they’re going to be taking a very serious risk if that dress doesn’t end up in our issue.”
“But as always, there are legal loopholes that haven’t been taken into account.”
“What we have to do is sell them on our status,” Victoria replies. “The prestige of reaching millions of readers in print. Something a simple digital cover will never give them.”
Harper takes a sip from her glass and looks at her over the rim.
“You seem very confident,” she says to her ex-wife.
Victoria smiles with a hint of bitterness.
“You’ve always said that my confidence was what attracted you most to me.”
Harper freezes with the glass halfway to her lips. Time stands still between them. Victoria watches as she swallows and her eyes darken slightly.
“I’m sorry. That was a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to bring it up.”
Harper sets the glass down on the tray with the utmost calm and settles back in her seat, looking out the window.
“It’s okay—we can’t hide the past, can we?”
“No, I guess not.”
Just then, the flight attendant approaches with a friendly smile to offer them another round. To Victoria’s surprise, Harper holds out her glass without a moment’s hesitation. Victoria looks at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Didn’t you say before we boarded the plane that we had to arrive at the meeting with a clear mind and a cool head?”
“One more drink isn’t going to cloud my judgment,” Harper protests, taking a generous sip. “It relaxes my brain.”
“All right, then let’s toast to a job well done,” Victoria says, clinking her glass against Harper’s.
A smile spreads across Harper’s lips for a few seconds. She’s taken off her suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse to her forearms.
Victoria catches herself staring at her—at least until Harper clears her throat.
“Remember not to let what happened happen again,” Victoria tells herself.
“We should… go over the strategy,” Victoria says. “We can’t afford to wing it.”
For the next hour, they dive into the numbers, the digital impact, the distribution data, and the advertising commitments. And, as always when they work together, the magic happens again. Harper finds the weak spot in the negotiation, and the two of them fine-tune the new proposal.
They were always the best team. Maybe that’s why the divorce hurt so much: Victoria didn’t just lose the love of her life—she lost the only person in the world capable of understanding her mind without needing explanations.
Victoria turns her head and stares at her while Harper reviews a document.
“What’s up?” Harper asks without looking up from the paper.
“Nothing. I was just… thinking about how to approach the meeting.”
“You’re staring at my mouth, Victoria,” Harper replies, turning to look her in the eyes. “That’s not thinking about how to approach the meeting. Do I need to remind you how things turned out the last time you did that?”