Chapter 1

I lay sprawled out across across a bed of silk. My clothes had been discarded moments before in the flurry of activity; just before Miranda pushed me onto the bed and...

"Andreá get me those Hermès scarves from the closet." Miranda's voice brings me out of my reverie and I quickly stand. Nearly knocking my keyboard off my desk.

"Yes, Miranda." I reply from the outer office. Before I head out the double glass doors I can hear one of Emily's trademark insults.

"Bloody wanker." I simply smile, with my head held high, I continue down the hall.

"Six!" I'm greeted by Nigel's fake sing-songy voice. "Have you come for theseee, darling?" He extends his arm and hands me two black boxes, labeled 'Hermès'.

"Thanks," I chuckle at his newfound attitude. "What has you in such a good mood?" I Secure the boxes under my right arm and patiently wait for an answer.

"Well, if you don't become a famous journalist you sure do have a job in match making."

"Ah," I smile. "I told you that you'd love Doug."

"God, Six," Nigel gushes. "I've never been with a more fabulous love—"

"Alrighty! Let me stop you right there." I shake my head. "I don't want to hear about it."

"You mean it as in his big d-"

With me free hand I cover one of my ears. "La la la- i can't hear you! That's enough for today I think." Swiftly, I turn on my heel and make my exit.

"thank you!" I hear him say behind me.

"No problem. Don't mention it.." I turn towards him once more. "Really don't mention it." And I can hear Nigel's infectious laughter all the way down the hall.

Soon I'm back in the outer office and I look around to see Emily's desk unoccupied. "I sent her on an errand, Andreá, and must you take all day to bring in what I asked for?" the older woman's icy business-like tone sent chills down my spine.

"Yes, I mean, no." I shake my head and enter the spacious office. "Sorry Miranda. Here you go." I hand the two boxes over to my boss and wait for her signature dismissal.

"Sit Andreá."

"Wh-" I'm cut off by her glare, and I immediately sit down in the chair in front of her desk.

"Do you know Hermès history?" My eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"Um.. N-No, Miranda. I d-don't." I watch as my boss opens one of the boxes and takes out a beautifully designed purple and pink silk scarf.

"Founded in 1837, the French luxury house Hermès began as a bridle and harness company for horses." Miranda stood with the scarf in hand and I watched transfixed as she twirled the fabric in between her slender fingers. "Before branching out into handbags and other accessories. ... The scarf made its debut in 1937." She steps around her desk and now she's standing directly in front of me. "Exactly 100 years after Hermès was founded." I didn't know why Miranda was sharing this information or why she was in such close proximity, but I was determined to keep whatever was happening- going.

"They started out as saddlery?" Miranda nods and takes a step closer to me.

"Andreá," My eyes follow her hands as they run over the full length of the fabric. "Do you like it?"

"What?" She smirks and slightly bends her knees to be eye level with me.

"Do. You. Like. It?" I can feel her breath on my heated skin with every word.

"Y-Yes." Her smirk grows into a full- blown smile and I can't help but stare into her glacier blue hues. I'm so distracted by the closeness of the older woman I barely notice the silk touch my right wrist.

"Does it feel nice An-dray-ah?" I feel her secure the scarf around both the arm of the chair and my wrist.

If she'd just move her lips a fraction of an inch they'd be touching my own. I'm breathing harder now, and I'm sure she can feel the change because her left hand rests against my cheek as she whispers, "Calm down, darling." then she is kissing me and everything goes oddly quiet. My body becomes rigid but my lips move accordingly. And just as quickly as it began it was over; Miranda pulls her head away and with slight concern in her eyes, whispers, "If you want me to stop tell me now." She kisses the corner of my mouth. "Or now.." Then my jawline. "Now?" I can only moan in response. "Hmm.. So you don't mind if I do this?" Then Miranda's insistent fingers are slowly unbuttoning my white Prada blouse; her lips are back on mine. Her tongue slips inside my mouth, gentle but demanding, and it's not like anything I've ever experienced.

My unrestricted hand moves to cup Miranda's face but she quickly pull away.

"No touching, Andreá." The editor turns on her heels and grabs another scarf from one of the boxes. "This will do." And once more she is tying my wrist to the chair.