Chapter Seven

The sun had set. With an empty heart she'd witness the fingers of darkness slowly clawing their way into the room, consuming what little light there was with every passing minute. She hadn't heard from Miranda all day, and the chance of hearing anything this evening was eagerly evaporating. It was late. The fire had died, shimmering embers the only evidence left of the flames. The final vestiges of warmth had been crushed in chills grip and the coolness of the air now stung along Andy's skin. She didn't move, couldn't move.

A thin blanket rested over her shoulders, her knees tucked in tight beneath her chin. She didn't know how long she'd been lying there. Her eyes felt swollen and sore and the tracks her tears had carved across her cheeks had finally run dry. She felt exhausted but sleep continued to evade her, life too loud even in the silence. All her thoughts kept rearing up unwilling to rest, each one refusing to take their turn all clamouring for immediate attention.

Her mobile was curled somewhere beneath her body. Her fist had finally relinquished its grip around an hour ago, giving in to the ugly realisation that Miranda wouldn't contact her tonight, if ever. She'd walked away, left Andy standing there, after giving her some cryptic answer about how her being with Nate hurt.

She'd sat for hours, tossing every option over in her mind, all the uncomfortable choices before finally falling on the two simplest. Stay, or go. If Miranda wanted her would she be willing to walk away from Nate, leave everything she used to love, to walk into a new world, one she knew nothing about? Back home Miranda was an icon, a star, with two children and a circus of broken relationships. The press would be upon her like a pack of hounds, nipping at her heels for any shred of information they could steal.

Even after all that, the fear of the unknown fighting against the comfort of the familiar, Andy still wanted to walk away. She didn't care about the disappointment in her mother's eye, or her friends disbelief that'd she'd abandoned Nate, alone in another country. Her pull towards Miranda was more powerful than it had the right to be, but after everything, after all the loneliness she'd finally found a little light and she couldn't let it go. At least, she wished she didn't have to.

A call, five minutes after she'd made up her mind to leave, had torn her decision in two, and left her with only one option.

She had to stay.

So she spent the remainder of the day on the sofa, eyes watching the fire die as her mind lingered in limbo. Half of her wanted to spend every waking minute with Miranda; the other was unwilling to face up to the inevitable pain of her departure.

Andy flexed her fingers, feeling a little relief as the warm links of Miranda's bracelet grazed against her knuckles. Andy had discovered it a few moments ago. The firelight had glinted upon the polished platinum surface drawing her attention and breaking the haze for a brief moment. She'd been playing with it ever since. This tiny piece of Miranda provided little comfort, but it was something, a little reminder of the happiness Andy had felt a few hours ago, and the hurt that was to follow too soon.

It was a simple piece, a collection of links forming a chain with one single charm dangling down, a heart. It was abstract, elongated to add a fashionable element, but a heart none the less. She was holding Miranda's heart.

Andy smiled at the absurdity of it all. In the space of a few days she'd gone from a grown woman to a weeping child, curled up and helpless clinging to an emotionless piece of metal in the hope it might provide some comfort.

Pathetic.

She tossed the chain on the table, a fruitless attempt to sever Miranda from her mind. She craved a single moment of peace and serenity where her thoughts weren't plagued with the inevitable outcome. She'd have been hurt whatever had happened but under the circumstances the sting pierced a little deeper. To have had the taste of happiness only to have it torn away was too much to bear. Maybe if the world hadn't granted her the brief glimpse, the potential of what love could really be like, the pain would have lingered very little. If she'd ignored the addictive thrill of desire she could have passed her feelings off for fleeting fantasy, a figment of her mind in her moment of misery. Now her memories were filled with everything that had fallen through her fingers. A feeling of inescapable emptiness flooded the hollow cavity in her heart.

With a sigh Andy closed her eyes, slowly slipping into a fitful sleep, her only brief moment of solitude. It was a momentary release of her memories of Miranda, just darkness and dreams, the harsh reality of her existence unable to disturb her slumber.


She was woken by the doorbell, a shrill sound that cut through the air. She was disorientated, the tight confines of her clothes like a chain of discomfort tangled around her body. She groaned, her fingers ripping through the tangles in her hair that had been weaved over night, the aftermath of a fitful sleep. She'd never made it to bed, choosing to remain curled in a ball of discomfort and flit in and out of consciousness. Her dreams had been peppered with the nightmare of reality and the heartache that had hit her on the blind side. She choked, the ache creeping up once again, a bitter taste coating her stale tongue. She needed water, her wine glass glaringly empty was all the evidence she needed of the night before, and an obvious answer for the headache that was clawing it's way up the inside of her skull.

The doorbell rang again.

Wincing, Andy slowly eased her way up from the couch, muscles groaning against the strain, unwilling to cooperate. It rang again. 'Alright I'm coming.' she grumbled, feeling resentful towards the impatient figure hovering behind her front door. Impatient, Andy quickened her step, Miranda, maybe it was her, maybe she'd returned, was willing to forgive, forget just, maybe…Andy's fingers fumbled for the latch, wrenching the door open in a hurry and her bubble of hope popped, cruelly punctured by the pin of reality.

'Hey there Six, long time no see.'

Andy didn't reply. The disappointment was like a knife wielded against her wind pipe.

'Just woken up I see.' Nigel scanned her crumpled attire, eyeing the wrinkles with obvious disdain, before casting a concerned glance into her eyes, 'You ok Andy?'

Andy nodded, swallowing, trying to ease the Sahara from her lips and allow the lie to flow freely, 'Yeah I'm fine, sorry Nige just a little tired,'

'Late night?'

'You could say that, yeah.' Andy forced a weak smile. Unwilling to meet his gaze her eyes fell to the floor, brow furrowing as she took in a bag brimming with goods clutched in his hands.

'I come baring gifts,' he waved the bag in her direction, 'and hopefully an invitation to improve your morning.'

Doubtful anything could improve her mood, Andy retreated from the doorway regardless, leaving the way open for Nigel to enter into her home.

'First, a drink I think.'

'Little early isn't it Nige, I mean it's only…' Andy cast a glance at her watch.

'Four in the afternoon, well four thirty to be precise, we did dally in your doorway for a little longer than I was expecting.'

'Four?' She was asleep that long? A whole day had past her by. The only one left before Miranda left, and the setting sun was already creeping upon her, the glowing orb mockingly crawling beneath its covers. Those last few precious hours, lost.

'Wine in the fridge?' He opened the door, grasping a half empty bottle and casting a glance at the label, 'not bad.'

Grasping two glasses from the draining board he handed one to Andy, pouring in a generous amount. Probably sensed she needed it. Although the creased clothing, smeared make up and ratty hair were not such a subtle clue she had a bad night. Taking a quick gulp, she let a small smile flicker onto her lips, 'So what's this good news you got.'

'It's more of an invitation. How would you like to come to the Runway party this evening?'

'Runway party?'

'We have them at the end of long distant fashion shoots, gives us a chance to meet and mingle with members' of the foreign fashion market, and, unofficially, let your hair down after a hard weeks work.'

Andy eyed Nigel's bald head with a little grin.

'Very funny Six,'

She smiled.

Nigel fussed around her for over two hours, his bag holding a whole treasure trove of stuff transforming her from ugly duckling into the swan she never believed she could be. She hadn't even agreed to go. Assuming she'd never be silly enough to say no at the chance to party, Nigel had fluttered around her like her very own fairy god father. His enthusiasm was almost infectious, the excitement contagiously tingling along her spine as he worked his magic.

One thing still trickled along the edge of her subconscious though, like a corrosive chemical burning a hole in her heart. She'd be there, it was her party, any hope otherwise would be delusional and Andy couldn't quite determine which she'd prefer. The other afternoon felt like the end, their argument severing the string of an unrealistic relationship, and yet Andy clung to the ends, hoping to tie them together again. She wanted to see her one last time, regardless of the consequences. She was a drug, and Andy was trying not to drown in the addiction. One more hit would not ease the agony, but only delay the pain. She was torn, and the underlying current of confusion was corroding her enjoyment of Nigel's attentions.

Regardless of it all though, the finished product was more than Andy could ever imagine. Her body was coated in mist. A shimmering grey halter-neck now covered her frame; neckline dipping down beneath the navel, the skirt falling to the floor clinging to her legs as she walked. She felt elegant, sexy even, her body showcased so beautifully in such a light, decadent creation. Andy had become a work of art. It's how it felt, as she gazed into the mirror, still unsure it was truly her gazing back.

'Now we need one last touch,'

Nigel stood behind her by the couch, watching her stare into the mirror in awe. The floor length mirror was meant to be in her bedroom, but with the better light in the lounge she'd shifted it, claiming to Nate that it had been for a temporary period, that had sneakily become permanent.

'Which is?' she looked at him through the eyes of her reflection, watching him in the mirror.

'This,'

She turned. Her heart sank. He was holding Miranda's bracelet between his fingers. She cast a concerned glance into his eyes, but they weren't accusatory, just gazing at the little item in wonder, his face baring a slight frown, before looking up at her.

'This is yours yes?'

Andy nodded, saying no would just lead to unwanted questions, 'It was a gift.'

'From whom?'

'A friend,' He looked sceptical, 'It was a present when I left New York.'

'Your friend was a wealthy one,' Andy gave a non committal shrug. He held it out to her, 'Wear it.'

'What? No!' she shied away from the item frantically searching for any excuse.

'It's the perfect item to compliment your outfit, simple, elegant and expensive. You can't wear a piece with this price tag and accessorise with cheap jewellery. The whole outfit is part of the art. This is the finishing piece.'

'Nigel, no.'

'Why not?'

'I might lose it.' Weak answer. Andy cursed her self. She wished to write for a living, was talented in the English language and that was the only answer her seemingly creative mind could form. She failed under pressure.

'You mean you've never worn it once. How can you have something of such beauty and not show it off? I'm not taking no for an answer, put it on.'

'Nigel…'

'No more arguments,' he fastened the chain around her wrist, 'perfect.'

'Thanks,' her voice was weak, defeated.

'Stand up straight, no slouching. You might be nervous but never let it show. Your confidence is echoed in your posture shoulders back, chest out, head held high. Act confident and your feelings will follow.'

Andy nodded.

'I've got to get to the party early. I'd say it was to check everything is in order, it's more to ensure Emily doesn't die if they're not.' Nigel tugged his shirt cuffs, straightening his collar as he prepared to depart. 'I'll see you in 30 minutes. Arrive before Miranda, she's the last to arrive and the first to leave. If you're late you're right in the line of fire, and employee or not, she will burn you.'

Andy swallowed. Burnt? Miranda had scorched Andy already. She'd flown too close to the sun, and no balm would ever heal her wounds.

Andy bit back the tears. Too emotionally exhausted to argue she let Nigel's chatter wash over her, drowning her sorrow within a wave of words.

'Remember to enjoy yourself, and gain a few contacts. That's the key to your career Six. It's what you know and who you know that helps you within this world. Right,' he opened the door, 'I'd better dash, the Devil waits for no soul.'

Andy forced a smile, all the while smarting inside. Miranda was no devil. Beneath the icicles lay a woman who was just as fragile, but she remained hidden from eyes too blinded by her act to look a little closer. Andy had seen, had watched the walls slowly dissolve, and had every desire to see it again.


Andy's fist curled with nerves, her footfalls carving a dent in the pavement as she padded back and forth outside the hotel threshold.

The final night's employment party, a little let your hair down session after a week long, working trip. She'd been warned there would be a few important faces, friends of the business and bottles of champagne, a world of extravagance and beauty. This was fashion after all; an industry a few days ago Andy wouldn't have been welcome in. What a difference. Like Cinderella she'd been transformed by her own fairy godfather, and true to form, tomorrow it would all be over. She should be calm, have nothing but a little fracture of fear, but the glacial stake of terror tearing through her was caused by one person, a person with the power to make her erupt with one icy little look. Andy shivered, an uncomfortable chill crawling its way beneath her skin. She wanted to run. Only running wasn't an option.

Andy's absence would attract Nigel's attention, draw unnecessary scrutiny on an already awkward situation. If she remained away as she'd wished, Nigel would hunt her down, he would be concerned, corner her with questions, and maybe see something beyond that of an innocent answer, 'I just didn't feel like it'.

Another one of many on her list of reasons on why she had to be here. She had a mountain of excuses a mile high. They were all lies. To assume Nigel would worry about her absence at the party was pushing it to say the least. He was a busy man, and she was a friendly acquaintance he'd made many miles from home. He'd shown a mere interest in her while the time was right, but the moment he returned home her life would matter very little. He wouldn't come looking for her, at best a fleeting text which could easily be answered with a fib, and it would all be over. Andy could lie all she liked, but if she was honest, there was only one thing keeping her here, one thing causing her feet to tread timidly across the threshold.

Miranda.

Tonight was the last night, their last night. Tomorrow it would all be over. She'd have little beyond the stroke of midnight, her life not as cliché and clear cut as the fairytale from which it reflected, but her happiness would come to an end all the same, a story without the happy ever after. Nate would return, Miranda would depart and Andy's fleeting fairytale would have finally come to an end. She'd debated her options all evening, created a vast variety of reasons for either case. So far her heart had won and here she was, hovering in the hall still torn between two choices.

She'd tried to block Miranda out, turn her mind back to the time where her life was a little less complicated. She failed. Every essence of happiness held by her past was out weighed by her present. Miranda meant too much. It was unhealthy, indulging her heart a little longer only to tear it in two tomorrow. Maybe this would be for nothing. Maybe she was just another conquest, another casualty beneath Miranda's claws, but she couldn't believe it. She should have let it be and let Miranda leave, but Miranda had said she mattered. Maybe those words were uttered as a release, a reason to run, flee, to be free from Andy's tantrums and tears. Andy would have believed it, if Miranda hadn't uttered the last little admission, one a woman like her wouldn't be willing to admit. Andy had hurt her. Andy had the power to hurt a woman who everyone believed to be invincible and she had no idea how she'd done it. She'd tamed the dragon by accident, and the prize was something she was unwilling to relinquish. So she'd ignored it all, every reason, every ultimatum ordering her heart to stay away. She knew to walk away now would only taint her future, another mistake she'd forever regret. This was the final night and one she wasn't willing to waste.

Taking a deep breath she stepped inside.

Her eyes stung, ears tingling, triggered by a sudden overload of stimulation to her senses. The glitterati out in all their glory, constant camera flashes flickering through the throng like fireworks.

Gradually Andy's erratic heart rate pounded at a constant pace, her breathing harsh but steady. With gentle foot falls, eyes wide and watchful, she circled the crowd searching for a single soul.

She stuck to the shadows, skirting the edge of the throng. This was Miranda's world. A room full of elegant people, many who worshipped the icon unaware of the woman beneath. Men and women of all shapes and sizes elegantly dressed in outfits that cost more money than Andy could imagine. She felt out of her depth. Everyone here had come to see Miranda, the top of the hierarchy within this room and only the other day she'd been sleeping in Andy's arms.

Andy swallowed. Miranda wasn't here yet, the hum within the room was relaxed. Talking and laughter rumbled all around her, an antithesis to the apprehension that clutched her heart. Miranda wasn't aware of her presence, not knowing Nigel had extended an invitation. Maybe she wouldn't want her here, maybe she'd order her to leave, like a lowly assistant banished beyond her aura.

Maybe, maybe she'd be happy.

Maybe there was a chance Andy could touch her once again, place her lips against her own and remember how she moaned under her touch. It was a slim chance but as long as that chance remained Andy would linger within this world, clinging tightly to her hope. She wouldn't let go unless Miranda's words prised her away, forcing her to relinquish her grip, tossing her into a well of despair.

She felt the crackle moments before the lightening hit, slicing through the crowd like a fissure. A low hush fell over the room as every eye turned to the icon descending down the stairs. With every step, the people parted before her, forming a path into the centre of the throng. Andy watched as the men and woman within the room regarded Miranda with a mixture of emotions. Awe, apprehension and jealousy tainted the eye of many as this woman walked regally into the room. Andy was amazed. She didn't flinch under the scrutiny. Instead Miranda commanded their attention effortlessly, like a gliding goddess, she created an ethereal illusion that was all her own.

Why would a woman like that want a woman like her?

Andy flinched at her thought, cowering in the shadows. She didn't wish to be seen. Her worries had been working away at her all evening. Now, watching Miranda within her own world and the power she truly held in her hand Andy felt like a pawn among many pieces. Maybe Miranda had played her like everyone else.

-SS-

She was here, she could feel it. Honey brown eyes hidden within the crowd, burning into her body. She wasn't sure why she was so certain, any fleeting thought to a physical connection made her flinch. It seemed absurd. Miranda didn't do the paranormal, mediums or anything out of the ordinary, but she gifted a lot of weight to mere emotions. Gut feelings were what guided the talented within her world, instinctively knowing when to follow in someone else's creative footsteps and when to deviate and follow her own.

Yet she knew Andrea was here, certainty in every cell of her body. Her emotions had evaporated a few minutes after she'd fled. Cursing the callous dig she'd flung from her tongue. Andrea had her boyfriend, but it was clear she was tied to him through her situation financially unable to run, and torn out of loyalty to the man she used to love. Miranda was well aware how love could blind sight, even when the dying embers were all that was left. You clung to the hope, wishing to find a way to fan the flames return the heat of emotion you felt when it was new. It never happened. When the glow finally died only the ashes of your heart remained with the aspirations for your relationship, just a dying dream.

Andrea's relationship had long died. Miranda could see it in her eyes. Yet the admissions of love, no matter how empty, had still stung. A word Miranda held in high esteem flung out so carelessly into the wind. Miranda shuddered. Words were just words. She knew this better than most. Empty promises, vows, the world sacrificed at her feet, a web of lies and deceit spouted by ambitious lips. They'd promise her anything just to use her Prada Pumps as a spring board.

Miranda had learned to look deeper.

So that's exactly what she'd done with Andrea, almost by accident. Subconsciously observing her every move, letting her ears linger on innocent words uttered to others. She'd circled in like a cautious predator approaching unknown prey, only to find herself the preyed upon.

That morning, every delicate touch, tender kiss, the truth of it all was written in Andrea's eyes and the honest desire had scorched her to the core. Andrea had wanted nothing but her, just Miranda.

To be desired in such a way, it was alien to her and addictive. Through all the anger, frustration and denial she couldn't deny the craving. Miranda would give anything to feel like that again and the opportunity had found her. Andrea was here, circling around, hidden in her vicinity. All she had to do was hunt her out.

Miranda relaxed, hunting was something she was good at. Let Andrea try to hide all she liked, Miranda would find her in the end.

With a smile her attention turned to the old gentleman droning on to the crowd milling around her. All the while watching out for dark hair, pale skin and shimmering auburn eyes.

-SS-

She'd left the shadows for only a moment, dying for a drink to quench the tingle of unease orbiting in her stomach. She'd been watching for over an hour, the subtle tilt of her head, letting the light sparkle in silver strands. It danced over her skin, the diamonds and riches adorning her body, casting shadows in the corners of her lips, tilted in a smile. It was fake, the affection, the air kisses, the laugher; none of it reached her eyes. Her muscles were tense, guarded almost waiting for the knife to strike between her shoulders.

Every minute gave a deeper understanding to the way this woman worked. It explained the instant attack on Andy the other day. She wounded first. Within this world, that behaviour made sense. Everyone was out for themselves, riding each other to riches.

Only the other day, Andy had wounded her first, unintentionally. She hadn't expected Miranda to react the way she had, but Miranda prided herself on her strength, that fact was reflected in this room. She held her head high, a solid cage protecting her from everything, except Andy. Andy had broken through, wounded her and the shock had Miranda lashing out in retaliation. It made sense. Andy only hoped her cage hadn't sealed shut completely. She'd do anything to creep beneath her guard once again.

If Miranda wanted her to, if this all hadn't been a big game. Regardless, Andy couldn't take heed of her heads warnings. Watching Miranda only made her want more. Any caution fell to the wayside in the wake of her desire.

Grasping a glass of champagne from the bar she downed its contents in vain hope to cool the heat crawling beneath her skin. Grasping a second she savoured this one a little longer, head bowed, now only half hoping to remain undetected by Miranda. What would happen if she knew she was here? Would she be happy, or hurt her? A woman so unused to being wounded may take a long time to heal.

Andy groaned, cursing her thoughts. Her desires and fears clashed together leaving her an emotional wreck. Head falling to her hands, she only had a moment to reflect on her situation before her senses prickled, grated by the unwelcome appraisal of a stranger. His words fluttered over her shoulder, a drink falling into her eye line.

Casting an uninterested glance at it she turned her attention to the man now hovering a few inches away. A smug grin tilted at the corner of his mouth.

'You look like you could use another one.'

'Thank you, but I think I've had enough'

'You sure, I find alcohol always helps if I have too much on my mind.'

'What makes you think I have too much on my mind?'

'The head in the hands is usually a good give away,' he paused, seating himself beside her before leaning in, 'I'd be happy to help you forget your worries.'

Andy ignored him, swallowing against the bile rising in her throat at such a thought. No man could compare to Miranda, soft and delicate, watching such elegance get ruffled in her sheets too arousing to resist. Her eyes fell upon the icon, tongue subconsciously licking along her lips.

'You want to meet her?'

Andy's eyes snapped to him in panic, 'No!' Her answer was harsh, snapped out in surprise, eyes wide not wishing to go anywhere near her while she was at work. Miranda could view it as a threat, flaunting herself so openly where she worked, or be roused with jealously, Andy approaching her with another man in tow. The situation was totally unsuitable to sort their issues out, but like a catalyst to a complete disaster, he pushed on.

'Come on don't be shy, not many get the opportunity to enter her inner circle.' His hand encased her elbow tucking her into his side.

She tried to pull away, not wishing to go anywhere with this man, especially no where near Miranda. He mistook her discomfort assuming they were the natural nerves of a shy woman, one who would be in awe of the formidable Miranda Priestly.

'Just so you know her bark is just as bad as her bite.' He grinned, forcing her forward. She fruitlessly tried to resist, trying to free her wrist from his grip. He ignored her struggles too intent on showing off, wanting to impress her with his power and influence to pay her reluctance any heed, unaware that of all the young women he could pick, the one currently held within his grip could testify that Miranda's bite was much, much better than her bark.

-SS-

She was with a man, a man with his hands far too close for Miranda to be comfortable. Her fingers clenched. She wanted to destroy him, eviscerate him. Her stomach twisted, mind reeling over the memories her anger had failed to erase. She shouldn't feel like this. Andrea had a boyfriend, a life, and it existed far beyond Miranda's influence.

She tried to ignore them, feign ignorance and focus on the man droning on, but her eyes reluctantly fell on Andrea and the man standing just outside her circle.

She watched as he regaled the members milling outside her crowd with comical tales garnering their bubble of fake laughter before he finally had the audacity to enter into her inner circled, with Andrea unwillingly attached to his side. Her attention flicked to her for only a moment not wishing to draw attention to the intensity of her emotions, forcing the cool façade in place. Andrea's eyes turned to her.

Miranda looked away, feeling exposed, unable to hide her anger at Andrea being here. She felt vulnerable. She didn't like her secrets being so close, and certainly not wrapped in the arms of another. Jealously was a rare emotion and one Miranda was unaccustomed to hiding. This was her territory, and Andrea had waded right into it and forced her to face a situation she'd attempted to run from.

Miranda didn't run.

She could feel Andrea's eyes and it unnerved her. She was used to being stared at, even ogled, but to be watched with such intensity made desire sizzle beneath her skin. Cursing herself, she could no longer ignore her. All anger abated, she knew she needed to talk to her, touch her just one more time. Everything between them wasn't over and avoiding the situation was paramount to cowardice in Miranda's eyes. She didn't get to where she was by being a coward, she wouldn't start now.

Her gaze darted to the left. She stared into Andrea's eyes with defiance daring the girl to look away. She didn't. Miranda forced her breath to remain steady, eyes slowly slipping from Andrea to the man by her side and back. Andrea's expression said all she needed to know. She didn't want to be near him anymore than Miranda wanted her to. With a subtle nod, Miranda's attention turned to the parasite that had stupidly scuttled into her reach. His face was split in an arrogant smile, unaware extermination was imminent.

Unwittingly he had waged a war with Miranda the moment his hands had touched Andrea, the woman whose skin Miranda's mouth had worshipped only a night ago. Andrea was marked, an invisible claim staked by the dragon and this man had smeared his hands all over it. He was going to get fried.

'Miranda, it's so nice to see you again, such a wonderful gathering as always.' A wide smile and a brash movement towards her stilled under Miranda's glacial glare.

'Who are you?'

His smile faltered, the 'um' was silent, his mouth flapping a moment before answering, her forgetfulness leaving him a little surprised, his confidence tilted off kilter, 'Tom Learmonth.'

She looked at him, her scathing expression indicating she had no idea who he was. She did, she recognised him, but knew very well his answer hadn't been totally forthcoming.

He confirmed her suspicions, the curl of his lips falling to form a firm line over gritted teeth, as he pronounced the proper name she knew him under, 'previously Thomas Lorley.'

Miranda nodded, the corner of her lips curling in a cruel smile, 'You were the son of Martin Lorley correct?' His confirmation was unwilling, a sharp single jerk of his chin indicating his discomfort at where this conversation was heading, but he had no power to prevent it. This was what happened to a man foolish enough to play with fire, 'His firm was just bought was it not, at a very generous price?' He said nothing, but Miranda carried on regardless, 'Rumours were it was a hostile take over that was badly dressed as an amicable merger. The company's been recording losses for many months,' she paused to sip her drink, 'its losses began rather recently, since you took the reins I believe. Attempting to follow in your father's footsteps only to fail and jump ship, letting the company sink and your staff with it, while you remained on solid ground. Anything but admirable I must admit.' She took another slow sip of her drink, innocence oozing from every pore. 'How are you finding England? I assume you came here because your company's failure falls under the radar, your father's firm remained on American soil and this country provides you with the animosity you require to rebuild your fortune. I assume you're at our little gathering to attempt to make contacts you can use to your advantage.' She smiled, a predator, sinking her teeth into his jugular. 'Well feel free to go ahead, you have my blessing. I only ask you to release Andrea, she's had a long day and even I can clearly see she's desperately trying to escape your grasp, as many others within this room would be wise to. Good to see you again Thomas.'

With a pointed look and sharp flick of her head, Miranda turned to leave. She pulled off blissful ignorance with well executed ease. The wide eyed surprise from the audience she'd just entertained, and barely concealed curiosity falling on the female that was now following after the flash of silver hair that vanished in the distance.