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“Me? Jealous? Don’t be ridiculous. I just stopped you from wasting your time on someone who isn’t even worth the dust on your shoes.”

Silence falls between them. Victoria’s words hang in the air, transparent and devastating. Harper’s smile fades.

The music on the terrace changes at that instant, giving way to a slow, enveloping tune. Victoria glances toward the dance floor by the pool and then fixes her eyes on Harper again. The impulse driving her is absurd and disastrous, but irresistible.

“Dance with me.”

“No way,” Harper refuses, taking a step back.

Victoria extends her hand to her elegantly.

“They’re watching us,” Victoria murmurs in a seductive voice. “Camille, two editors, and a couple of photographers. Do it for the PR.”

Harper looks around, confirming that, indeed, several pairs of eyes are watching their every move.

“I hate you,” Harper mutters, but ends up placing her hand in Victoria’s. “I hate that you always get your way.”

“We’ve already discussed that. And here you are, taking my hand.”

Victoria guides her onto the dance floor. She places her right hand on Harper’s waist, and Harper rests hers on Victoria’s shoulder. At first, the distance between them is cautious, formal, suitable for all audiences.

It lasts ten seconds.

As the music picks up, the distance between them vanishes. Victoria’s hand on Harper’s back settles there with familiarity. The scent of the perfume Harper has always worn floods Victoria’s senses, transporting her to past early mornings she thought she’d forgotten.

“I’m still mad at you,” Harper whispers close to her ear, sending shivers down Victoria’s arms. “You scared off one of the most influential women in Los Angeles because of an unwarranted fit of jealousy.”

“I know,” Victoria admits. “And I don’t regret it one bit.”

Harper looks up, fixing her gaze on Victoria’s eyes.

“You can’t go through life doing this. You don’t have the right anymore.”

The words sting, but that’s the reality. Victoria feels a twinge in her stomach.

“It was an impulse.”

“A very convenient impulse for you,” Harper reproaches her. “You can’t demand certain things from me and then pull this stunt.”

“You’re right. From now on… I’ll hold back.”

Despite her words, neither of them moves. On the contrary: Harper’s grip on Victoria’s neck tightens, her fingers sliding down to the nape of her neck.

Victoria can’t help but smile.

They sway to the rhythm of the music, whispering about the meeting with Camille, imitating each other, and laughing at their boss’s quirks back in New York. For a moment, time stands still. It’s just the two of them, dancing in a wonderful atmosphere.

As the song begins to fade, their movements slow until they come to a stop in the middle of the dance floor.

“We did a great job today,” Harper says, brushing her thumb against the curve of Victoria’s shoulder. “We make a good team.”

Victoria looks at her, feeling a lump in her throat.

“A formidable team. And that makes me think that…”

Harper tilts her head.

“What?”