It all started last month with sourcing rare Alba white truffles and black truffles from Perigord for Miranda's dinner party menu, Andy was relieved Miranda despite probably having java in her veins didn't want to be drinking that coffee excreted by a weasel cat called a civet from Indonesia.

Good call as Andy wrinkled her nose at that selection which was suggested by a chef but Miranda shook her head to it.

Miranda was wealthy and a snob but not stupid.

Anyone was Kopi Luwak wacko to want to drink it. Andy googled what Kopi Luwak was, still couldn't believe anybody would willingly want to let it pass their lips.

Andy was elated no more making choices if Miranda's wealthy influential peers wanted to drink coffee cherries defecated by a cat were done and over.

Silly rich people.

Andy didn't care now, she was walking away from Miranda's world, pffft on gifts given to VIPs of hand rolled chocolate truffles at $2,600 a pound made from 70 per cent Venezuelan Grand Cru chocolate or selecting a bottle for some important bigwig on the Board of NV Martell L'Or de Jean Martell Cognac.

Andy didn't want this life.

Nope, Andy was just going back to her room and packing, and getting the first flight out of Paris on her emergency credit card. So she'd be eating sandwiches and cup of noodles for dinner for the next few months it was worth it to be free from La Priestly employ.

Miranda's dinner party was in an hour.

Glancing out the window, it was snowing as Andy slipped off her crumpled dress, grabbing a plain cotton t-shirt and slipping on jeans over her long legs, padding in just her bare feet on soft carpet, Andy went about putting everything that belonged to Runway onto hangers, she'd leave a message about it and the samples she'd been given she'd pack for Emily, except a leather jacket by Rick Owens that she was keeping.

Andy eyed the baskets she was supposed to have delivered to the dinner party, not her problem anymore, she snorted, Miranda couldn't reach her, with her phone in a fountain, and it was nice to have no more constant calls of Miranda's ringtone. Heard it even in her sleep.

Sheesh she was Pavlov's dog.

Miranda would just have to get by without her. Manage somehow.

Andy knew her schedule was busy the US Ambassador's luncheon party tomorrow, and a 16th arrondissement dinner party hosted by a well-known couturier and Miranda was also attending that pretentious Louis-Arnault de Neuvillette gallery opening.

Andy didn't like Louis Arnault's kissing Miranda or his hand lingering and resting on her back. He was a creep. With his Gallic accent and conversing to Miranda's with her perfect fluent Parisian french.

Her stomach growled, hadn't eaten at the luncheon earlier. She shouldn't. Andy opened one basket to the box of truffles.

She deserved it. With all the crap Miranda put her through.

These were more than delicious. These were heavenly. Andy ate another.

Picking up a bottle of cognac. Andy had never had cognac before. Deciding now was as good time as any to try it.

''Merci Miranda.'' Andy opened the bottle, taking a swig.

Andy's phone rang. Relieved as she saw it was the front desk. Not Miranda. The front desk manager's words made Andy's large brown eyes widen. She was stuck here. Saw it was getting bad out there. Snowing heavier. No flights out tonight due to the weather.

Andy sunk down she hadn't checked out yet. Fine one more night here couldn't hurt, better than camping out at the airport.

Miranda would never know, even though her suite joined hers. Andy glanced at the door warily, holding the cognac bottle close. Yup just me and Martell here and more boxes of those to die for chocolate truffles.

Sorry Mr. and Mrs Whit Anstruther or Monsieur le duc.

Andy happily opened Louis-Arnault's and ate one champagne truffle.

Hiccupping as Andy laid back her head on the carpet. Her life was so screwed up. Nate hated her. Her parents kept begging her to come home and work at The Trib. Maybe she would go home.

She could get fat. Yay. No one in Ohio cared. She could wear sweats in supermarkets. It'll be bliss.

She could write again. Not just coffee orders or menus. What she came to New York to do.

Mainly that despite today, and everything that Miranda did, Andy was still in love with her cold unfeeling boss. Why?

She was mean and a bitch. Acerbic and poisonous rancor to everybody. Enjoyed being so and messing with Andy's head the Harry Potter manuscript was a perfect example. At her happiest making her and all of Runway's staff stressed and suicidal.

Miranda's words could hurt, said waspishly or not. Andy was not lunky or fat. Madame Verglacé really needed to be defrosted or dethawed.

Good for you, Stephen you got out. Escape was the only option from her, having an ocean between her and you. Worth it. Andy shuddered. Married to her. Stephen had her sympathies. Poor bastard. Andy bitterly thought.

Andy felt she should send him a fruit basket or something for the divorce papers faxed to her.

Andy rubbed her face. Seeing Miranda's tears last night and how she looked at her. Telling her do her job when all Andy was trying to offer was her shoulder. Miranda could've attempted to be a little human and accepted Andy's kindness. Scolding herself harshly. What would you have done Andy hugged her? Andy valued her limbs from the dragon.

Not wanting to imagine what Miranda in her dreams would feel like held in her arms to real life Miranda who would eviscerate her if she looked at her the wrong way or asked questions.

Andy took a sip of the amber liquid.

Miranda probably hated her now anyway.

Fumbling for her Ipod, popping in the earbuds, Andy pressed a song. Closing her eyes, as it began playing loud in her ears.

Not hearing her door open and aware of expensive heels stepping inside her room. Startled blue eyes saw her, narrowing coldly on her, striding with determined steps.

''Andrea.''

Andy didn't hear her name, singing off key along with this song.

Miranda didn't miss the empty bottle of cognac next to Andy. Disgraceful.

A tip of her shoe nudged Andy's foot. Prodding with the sharp point as Andy jolted and opened her eyes, gulping at blue eyes blazing at her. Above her with her hands on her hips in a fitted evening gown that fit her like skin.

Staring at her with her mouth open. Andy wordlessly sat up, still staring at her. Taking off her earbuds.

''Miranda.'' Andy wobbled out.

''Andrea explain to me why are you here? First unzip me.''

Andy's mouth went dry. Her long hands clammy as she hesitated but fueled by cognac worth thousands by the glass, slid her trembling fingertips down Miranda's ivory back.