Page 21 of VOGUEish

“Absolutely not. Her new title is that of digital editor.”

“Why? Her qualifications make her the perfect fit for fashion editor.”

“Yes, but for her comeback moment to have its full impact, she must be digital editor of Naked Runway. That’s why we’re revamping the magazine and bringing it into the digital age.”

“Then all of your talk about lost income and needing to shift focus was nothing more than an excuse to bring in a digital editor?”

“Well, yes.”

“You’re unbelievable. What happened to her that night that was so bad that you would buy a magazine?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

He frowned. “Really? Still? I would think after all this time you could fill me in.”

“If you thought that, then you don’t understand what I do at all. When I take these subjects under my wing, they place their full trust in me with their secrets. I would never, ever break their confidence. Just as I’ve raised you to never break the confidence of another.”

It was true that Nonna was a staunch proponent of never giving up another’s secret, no matter what. “Yet you have no qualms about trying to fix me up with one of them.”

“That’s completely different.”

“If you say so.” He’d often wondered what Isabella had done about the dick pic she’d been taunted over. Had she heeded his warning? “Am I to explain to her why she’s being offered digital editor instead of fashion editor?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll drop by, and we can give her the news together.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Monday morning at 9:30 a.m., Isabella stood outside Chandler’s closed office door. She took a deep breath and yanked at the hem of the satin, one button, notch lapel, cropped blue blazer that she’d paired with a black pencil skirt. She’d designed both while on Project Runway. Discovering nothing out of place, she gave a quick glance at her lucky heels. “Keep me upright, dolls,” she whispered to them and then raised her hand and knocked.

After several days away from Chandler, she’d managed to do some clear thinking and had compiled a things-to-do list that had nothing to do with her ten-year reunion.

Letting her walls down enough to win over her new coworkers had been assigned top priority. Going all hot and heavy over the guy who’d fired some of their friends hadn’t even made the list.

Sure, Chandler made her tingle just by touching her, but that was nothing more than sexual energy. Nothing a good vibrator couldn’t take—

The door swung open, and Chandler stood there, looking Gucci hot with his disheveled hair and five o’clock shadow. Wow, he’d stepped up his clothing game. He wore a black turtleneck underneath a dark tonal herringbone jacket.

Flats. I’m going to need to buy some new batteries on my way home.

“Right on time.” He took in her appearance and gave her a bland smile. “Come in.” He stepped back and motioned for her to enter.

Isabella returned his blasé smile with one of her own. Then, with purposeful grace, she entered his office. If she could strut down a runway showing off her designs, she could walk into Chandler’s office without making an idiot of herself. Right?

Wrong.

Her grace lasted one and a half steps when she discovered Chandler wasn’t alone. Her knees wobbled like a puppy taking its first steps, and she grabbed for the coat rack for balance. Unfortunately, the piece of furniture wasn’t bolted to the floor, and it tilted like a slowly falling dress dummy.

“Not again,” she muttered as she awkwardly grabbed for the rack with both hands. Thank the Off-the-Rack Lords, she caught it before it crashed. So much for the vision of calm and poise she’d hoped to present.

“Good morning,” she said to Chandler’s visitor, releasing her death grip on the coat rack. “What are you doing here?”

The woman who’d sat on the bathroom floor with Isabella so many years ago and listened to her spill her guts now sat in Chandler’s office. The one who’d completely disappeared from Isabella’s life after introducing her to Ms. Patricia.

“Good morning, Isabella. I’m here to see you.” Her voice was just as soothing as it had been that night of Isabella’s living nightmare.

Isabella wanted to rush into the woman’s arms and hug her for the wonderfully beautiful, sometimes wacky life she’d given her. But what if she crashed and burned before she got there? “I’m confused. Why here?”

“Chandler is my godson. Did you not recognize him?”

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