Miranda was still furious with Erin Smith by the time she arrived home that evening, and she stalked upstairs to her study, taking a seat behind her desk as she poured over the information that they knew so far about Snowflake Designs. Emily arrived with the Book, bringing it up to her as asked. "I still cannot get over the way that woman just hung up on you, Miranda! Does she not know that you can make or break her career with one well-placed word in the right ear?"
"I have the distinct impression that Ms. Smith doesn't really care one way or the other. She's obviously making these collections for the love of creating, and not for any public gain. But don't worry, I'm certain that we'll come up with some way to get her designs into the world at large, and maybe that will change her mind about being so secretive."
"I don't think that she'll like that."
"Most people don't like when things happen that need to happen. And it is far easier to get forgiveness than permission, especially from someone as stubborn as this Erin Smith. But you need to get home now, we have an early start with the Marc Jacobs show tomorrow. I need you at your best so that I can continue to mull over Snowflake Designs while critiquing the shows that we see for the next edition of Runway."
Emily nodded, though she still looked troubled as she left the study, and Miranda tried to push the vague feeling of unease away from her thoughts as she began to look over the rough edits to the Book that had been made throughout the day. It was more difficult to keep full control over her magazine when Fashion Week was going on, but it appeared as if Nigel had done an exceptional job thus far. Or maybe he just knew that her mind was divided with this mystery that she found herself embroiled in, and was using this as his chance to prove himself to her once again.
Hearing a commotion on the stairwell, Miranda looked up from the pages of the book, slipping her reading glasses off her nose and dangling them between her fingers as she watched the doorway expectantly. Moments later, Andrea was rushing in, looking windswept, a bit damp, and effortlessly chic. Thankfully, Miranda had never been one to blush, as any other person might have done when they realized that their private thoughts were definitely not something that were in line with what they should be. She was also grateful that Andrea seemed just distracted enough that she didn't notice the longer than usual soft silence between them before Miranda cleared her throat and got her attention. "I left my coat in the closet downstairs, since it began pouring the moment I stepped onto your stoop. Emily was just leaving, so she held the door for me."
"That's why you look like a drowned kitten," Miranda replied sardonically as Andrea combed her fingers through her hair before coming around to her side of the desk and taking a seat so that she could look over her shoulder at the Book. "If you put water spots in my desk, you will pay to have it fixed."
"My ass isn't wet, Miranda. Just my hair. This layout is really good, but when did you let Emily start to do things like that?"
Miranda cocked her head to one side, looking at the pages with a fresh eye. "I hadn't realized that she had done so until you pointed it out. And yes, she did a fantastic job, though I won't be saying such to her."
Andrea gave her a little smirk before leaning in and resting her hand on Miranda's shoulder. It was a distinctly odd move, one that she couldn't read with her usual clarity, and Miranda shifted a bit in her chair, trying not to appear uncomfortable. "You should let her know that her hard work is appreciated. I'm assuming that she still thinks the ground around you is hallowed." Miranda snorted a little. "She does! And what are your plans for Erin Smith?"
"I'm going to create a spread along with my critiques of both her collections in the next edition of Runway, since that will focus entirely on New York Fashion Week."
"She's going to hate you for that. And you might not get the opportunity to interview her in the future if you run a spread on her without her express permission."
Miranda rolled her eyes as she pushed away from the desk and got up to stalk back and forth across the carpet. "Emily had the same concerns as you, Andrea, and I will tell you the exact same thing that I said to her. It is far easier to get forgiveness after the fact when you've been denied the answer that you want. Besides, this is Runway, the most prestigious fashion magazine in the industry today, and I know that as soon as she sees what I've published about her, Erin will change her mind. She has to, once she finds out how much the public love her work."
"You're not certain that they will. Just because you think that Erin Smith is an up and coming designer does not mean that everyone else will just fall in line with your beliefs."
Miranda stopped and focused her gaze on Andrea, watching her squirm a little beneath the scrutiny that she was giving her. "Darling, you forget that I am one of the people who influence everyone's fashion choices. Remember that hideous blue sweater that you wore?"
A guilty flush stole across her cheeks as she nodded. "I know, but to thrust that spotlight on a new designer, who wants to be a recluse? Isn't that a little cruel?"
Miranda glared at Andrea, hating the fact that she was possibly correct. "What would be cruel would be to bury her talent when she deserves the chance to shine. I don't normally take up for a designer like this, and Erin Smith should realise this tremendous opportunity that's falling into her lap. My next option is to track down her studio and demand that she give me the answers that I want. Which do you think would be the better option? Making the layout or heading to her studio?"
Andrea rolled her eyes a little as she closed the distance between them, looking right up into Miranda's eyes as she shook her head. "You are playing a very dangerous game. Can't you at least wait until you talk to Penelope Garcia again, to see if she can track down any more information about this Erin Smith before you go off half-cocked?" Miranda gave a small shake of her head, ready to protest when Andrea closed the small distance between them and pressed her lips against hers in a shockingly hungry kiss that seemed to have been fueled by their slight disagreement. Miranda didn't know quite how to respond at first, but then her natural instincts kicked in and she began to return the kiss, backing Andrea over to the desk and pushing her downwards as their kiss lingered on. She would have been content to kiss Andrea, but the younger woman pulled away to stare back into her eyes, and in that moment, Miranda knew that she didn't want her to go, but wouldn't put that into words. "Can I stay the night? It's still raining, and I don't want to get even more soaked than I already am." A smirk spread across Miranda's face as she nodded, possessively taking hold of Andrea's hand as she led her to the bedroom, knowing exactly where things were going to lead that evening.
