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Eleanor turns and walks away before Victoria can say another word, leaving her silent as she bites the inside of her cheek.

“Wonderful,” she says, taking off her jacket. “Just what I asked for when I returned to New York.”

“At least we agree on something.”

Victoria gives a little start and turns her head.

Harper Brooks has just appeared in the hallway. She’s wearing high-waisted black pants and a burgundy silk blouse that Victoria wishes she hadn’t seen. Because, damn it, that shade of burgundy looks indecently good on her.

For three eternal seconds, neither of them says a word.

“Tell me this is a joke and that Eleanor didn’t drag you into my office,” Harper blurts out.

“That was exactly my reaction,” Victoria replies. “And you can save yourself the trip if you’re just going to complain. She won’t budge. We’ll take her down when we hit her in the face with our best work.”

The response causes the left corner of Harper’s mouth to lift slightly. It’s the hint of a smile, but it vanishes before it can take hold. Even so, Victoria feels a spark of satisfaction in her chest at having been the cause of it. She immediately chides herself. “Victoria, grow up. You’re not here to start flirting with your ex-wife again. You’re here to take the biggest step of your career.”

“Anyway, I’m going to make some coffee, and then we’ll get to work,” Harper says. “Make yourself at home in the office.”

*

During the morning, it doesn’t take long for Victoria to notice that the editors and assistants are pretending to work while blatantly watching them through the glass panels.

Every time Harper walks into the office with clothing samples, two young PR people look up like meerkats. Every time Victoria steps out to get water, a group of stylists stops talking. By ten in the morning, she realizes that half the staff at Velvet & Silk must already know every last detail of her divorce.

Determined to ignore the whispers, Victoria meets with the design team. She reviews three layout proposals on the central table and rejects two concepts. The third idea has potential, but it lacks the boldness she knows they both need for the fall cover.

“We need to take a risk here, guys,” Victoria says, crossing her arms as she analyzes the sketches. “It’s pretty, yes, but this bores me.”

One of the designers glances sideways at Harper, who is at the back of the room reviewing some fashion sketches. Victoria catches his gaze. And Harper, of course, does too.

“If you’re waiting for my approval, Leo,” Harper says from her seat, without looking up from the fabrics in her hands, “I agree with Victoria. The third option is the only one that speaks to me, and that’s why we need to improve it.”

The ease with which Harper backs up her opinion takes everyone by surprise. Victoria blinks in mild astonishment while Harper prepares a new argument.

“We need a more aggressive contrast,” Harper adds, stepping closer to the table and pointing at the sketch with a pen. “I like the lighting, but I don’t feel like it tells a story of power. It doesn’t have that kind of strength.”

“Exactly,” Victoria interjects, taking over. “Let’s keep the color palette and change the approach to the styling—go for something more visually daring.”

The designer nods vigorously, relieved not to have witnessed a battle between them.

For exactly ten minutes, the two work side by side as if five years apart hadn’t passed. They still know how the other thinks. Because the nonverbal language they built together is still there, intact beneath the ashes.

Mid-morning, Victoria steps out into the hallway to take a phone call with a photographer from Paris. When she’s done, she returns while sending a couple of messages, and as she walks past the main dressing room in the styling area, she hears a couple of familiar voices.

“…I think Eleanor is doing this on purpose,” Harper is saying. And she sounds exhausted. “I’m sure she wants to test me so that I’ll end up throwing in the towel and handing in my resignation. She’s put me and my ex in a cage together as if we were two fighting cocks.”

“Maybe she just wants you two to do a good job.”

“Don’t be silly.”

Victoria stops dead in her tracks and listens to them.

“Well then, don’t give her the satisfaction of seeing you defeated, Harper,” Solange replies. “Put on your best smile and show that harpy that you’re the boss of this magazine. It’s not that I hate Victoria, but you can’t let her come in here all high and mighty again and blow your dreams to smithereens. You’ve worked like a beast for four years to get this job. Do you hear me?”

A lump forms in Victoria’s throat.

“Destroy her dreams.”