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“That’s your biggest problem,” Harper reproaches her, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes. “You always want to protect everyone.”

“You’re right,” her ex-wife admits. “In the category of extreme stupidity, I take the grand prize.” Victoria glances at the Paris contract. “Until an hour ago, I was convinced it was the only way out. Until I saw you walk through that door and realized what a terrible mistake I was about to make.”

“I want that job, it’s true,” Harper replies. “But my professional dreams are worthless if you’re not there to share them with me. I don’t want to sacrifice my personal life again.”

The atmosphere in the living room has changed drastically. But for the first time in years, Victoria doesn’t feel the need to run away.

“What can we do?” Harper asks, resting her hands on Victoria’s waist. “Because I’m sure there’s a solution to this.”

“What we should have done from day one. Fight together,” Victoria declares, running her fingers over Harper’s cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll present our proposal to the board and make it clear how this can benefit them.”

Harper watches her for a few seconds. Victoria cups her face in her hands, forcing her to hold her gaze.

“We’re not going to back down even a millimeter, Harper. Not this time. We’re going to make it crystal clear to them that together we’re a steamroller Eleanor won’t be able to stop.”

“Eleanor told me the decision to split up the departments has already been made,” Harper recalls.

“Well, they’ll have to change their minds,” Victoria declares proudly. “Otherwise, they’ll have to go on without us. And believe me, I know full well that the magazine is going to go under without our vision.”

“Sounds like a suicide mission. I love it.”

Victoria smiles mischievously. Harper lets out a resigned snort.

“You’re unbearable, Victoria.”

“But you love me,” she reminds her.

“Unfortunately, yes. With all my heart.”

After kissing her on the lips, Victoria picks up the plane ticket and, looking Harper in the eyes, tears it in half. Then she folds the pieces again and tears them into tiny bits, letting them fall onto the carpet as if they were confetti.

“To set the mood for the evening,” Victoria jokes with a mischievous wink.

“First thing tomorrow, I want you to call the legal department to officially reject the offer,” Harper demands. “Agreed?”

“It’ll be the second thing I do,” Victoria promises without hesitation.

“And what’s going to be the first thing?”

Victoria smiles and gives her lower lip a little nibble.

“Making you moan until you can’t take it anymore.”

Chapter 24

Harper Brooks has always believed that fashion is a discipline based on control: the symmetry of a seam, the exact weight of glossy paper, the impeccable drape of a silk dress. But Victoria Vance’s body, stripped of her tailored suits and that aura of an unattainable executive, is the perfect antithesis of discipline. It’s pure chaos. A smoldering fire that threatens to consume every last corner of that apartment’s kitchen.

It’s six in the morning. The autumn sun is just beginning to cast a cool, golden hue over Manhattan’s skyscrapers, but the small walnut kitchen table looks like a battlefield that’s just been abandoned. Still resting on the surface are the laptop, two now-cold cups of coffee, and the glass jar of jam that Harper had taken out of the fridge just twenty minutes ago with the theoretical intention of making a piece of toast before the meeting.

In theory. Because that theory went out the window the very moment Victoria slammed the laptop shut, looked her in the eyes with bated breath, and told her that the numbers were already perfect, but that the two of them still had unfinished business before getting dressed to go to war.

Now, Harper is sitting right on the edge of the marble island. Her legs are wrapped around Victoria’s waist, and the silk blouse she was wearing hangs unbuttoned, revealing the bra that holds two firm breasts rising and falling to the rhythm of her ragged breathing.

“We can’t dawdle,” Harper murmurs in a voice that tries to sound mocking.

“To hell with it all,” Victoria replies against her lips.

Victoria’s tongue seeks out hers with an almost desperate urgency, savoring it, devouring it, while her hands slide down Harper’s sides.