Sorry this hasn't been kept up. I was having trouble uploading documents, so I stopped for a while. But I am now going to get you guys caught up to where I am. I expect chapters for each chapter...even if I post them one at a time..I expect you to review...I know you're reading!! haha. So more review por favor! Muah! I love your all for reviewing. :D

Chapter 4

The car arrived at exactly seven o' clock that next Friday. Andrea was still cramming toiletries and placing her laptop in its case when she saw the signature black Mercedes pull up to her curb. Her heart began pounding, and she couldn't exactly pinpoint why she was feeling so nervous. She wondered if it was because she knew that there was a tiny possibility that Miranda was also waiting down in that sleek black car for her. And if she was, was she going to have to sit behind Miranda on the plane and work the entire time as she had on their way to Paris?

But why would she have to work for Miranda? She was no longer Miranda's employee. And she had her own work to do. A 1,000 word article due no later than Sunday evening. She laughed at her foolishness. But then that uneasy feeling settled in to her stomach again and she realized she was making Miranda wait…

Grabbing her bags she raced out of her apartment. Locking the door behind her, she fled down the stairs and out the front door only to discover that the back seat of the car was empty. But there was Miranda's one and only driver, Roy, waiting patiently for her.

She felt herself relax, if only a little, for she could at least take her time now. She was not going to get berated by Miranda for not rushing. But she also felt something sink. Was that her heart?

No, she was being silly. Had she really expected Miranda to also be in that car? Really?

Miranda would probably already by on her way with her new second assistant, or Emily. And that thought exactly was confirmed once all of Andrea's belongings were tossed in the trunk and Roy returned to his seat at the wheel.

"No, she left on Thursday morning." He nodded, "she's receiving that award on Saturday night, you know, so she had to do some press before the conference began."

"What?" Andrea had no idea what he was talking about. An award? That Miranda was receiving? What was he talking about?

"She's receiving that award."

"For what?"

"She's editor of the year."

"Oh, wow…she didn't tell me." Andrea knew this weekend had been too good to be true. Of course Miranda would be getting exonerated and of course Andrea would have to be there to watch. But this was good for Miranda, especially after her job had almost been taken from her.

But why did Miranda want her there? It just made no sense.

Roy just laughed, knowing that Miranda never mentioned much. The many years he had been driving her around he had gotten to know her through her silence and secrecy. He'd been through fights with her ex-husbands, calls to her daughters where she was blatantly lying about their father's where-abouts, and the thing he noticed was that she, despite her sharp demeanor, was a very modest, hard-working woman who let no one and nothing get in her way.

Andrea glanced out the window and noticed that the car was going in the complete opposite direction of where they needed to be. "Where are we going?" She suddenly asked, realizing that this most definitely was not the way to the airport.

"James Holt's."

"But why?"

"Did Miranda really not tell you anything?" Roy was smirking.

"Does she ever?" Andrea exhaled and watched as they pulled up in front of James Holt's loft. It was still the same, despite his new found fame. He was still designing, even bigger, better things than he had before. And as Andrea stepped out of the car and in to the tiny elevator she had once, long ago, shared with Miranda, she couldn't help but feel a touch of nostalgia for her time at Runway.

The elevator doors dinged open and James Holt opened the door. He had been waiting for her.

"How are you, beautiful?" He leaned in to kiss her cheek. He still remembered her.

"I'm quite good. Confused, but good." She asked, following him through the loft to his studio.

"Confused? But why? Didn't Miranda…"

"No. And does she ever?"

"You're right." He laughed.

And then it appeared. As if it had materialized from nowhere.

"What…?" She couldn't formulate a sentence. All she could do was stare at the form before her. The soft vanilla colored fabric was draped so eloquently across the mannequin; the large black bow, a signature of James, fit so nicely at the back, its satin limbs reached around the front of the gown and connected at the top to form straps.

"Miranda didn't think you'd have adequate attire for tomorrow night, so she instructed I make you a little something."

"Miranda said that?" Andrea was still mesmerized by the piece. "Wow." She couldn't take her eyes off it.

"Yes." James grinned, glad that his customer was easier to please than Miranda had ever been. "And it's all yours."

"No." Andrea touched the dress, timidly at first, as if it were a work of art. "But why would she do that?"

"I have no idea. I don't question her motives. But, you have a plane to catch and we still have a fitting to do so I can make final alterations and get it sent there by tomorrow at noon."

"Oh, right." Andrea had not worn proper undergarments for such a fitting, but she willingly shrugged out of her jeans, jacket, and shirt. James helped her step in to the gown and when it was zipped up in the back, and she looked in to the mirror, she almost couldn't breathe. It was gorgeous. All she could do was stand in front of the mirror and admire herself as James fluttered around her, marking and pinning.

"You've lost weight." He noted as he pinned in the waistline.

"I've been exercising." She exhaled, not really present in the moment any longer. This dress had seemingly transcended her to another world.

"All right, you're all done. You can get out of it now."

"But what if I don't want to?" Andrea laughed, snapping out of her reverie.

"You must. You have to be on a plane in a little under an hour."

"Oh right, shit." Andrea scrambled out of the dress and back into her clothes.

"I'll see you later." James kissed her on the cheek again and she thanked him profusely as she raced out of his loft.

Once back in the car, Andrea had time to think over what had just happened. Miranda had had a dress made for her for some unknown reason. Had the woman lost her mind? Who made dresses for their former assistants?

But there was hardly time to dwell on it; a plane was waiting for Andrea. She had to get all of her things checked and herself aboard the plane. To her surprise, she had not been given first class. She supposed Miranda's love could only extend so far.

She laughed as she thought about how preposterous this all was. Miranda's love? Where had that even come from? Could Miranda even love? Was that possible of her stolid, hard-hearted ex-boss?

Well of course she loved her daughters. That was evident in the way she had cried for them that candid evening that Andrea had happened to stumble upon her. The evening she learned of Miranda's divorce, even before anyone else had known about it. Miranda had made an exception for Andrea as she had made an exception for her this weekend. Why was Miranda so easily inclined to include Andrea, yet at the same time walk all over her as if she didn't matter?

This was probably this most confusing relationship Andrea had ever encountered in her life. She decided not to think about it too hard, and also decided to let the weekend be what it was. A conference. Seemingly to help her writing. Which, as she opened her laptop to work on her article that was due by Sunday, she didn't think was all that bad. But she also knew Miranda knew writing, so perhaps it was "weak".

Andrea couldn't think about Miranda's insult, however. She had work to do, and thinking that she was a weak writer just wasn't going to help her get it done.

There was a party that evening. A huge, magnificent party. All the speakers and nominees from journals and magazines were there, sipping cocktails and trading gossip. Miranda had tried to mingle. She had spoken with the editor of The New York Times and a reporter from Los Angeles. Her own party had followed her around all night. Emily was behind her the entire time, whispering people's names in her ear, while her second assistant, Bridget, had been fetching her drinks and staring in awe at the famous people around her.

Bridget was nothing like Andrea. She was blonde and slightly stupid, but ambitious and a semi-hard worker. She hadn't learned to read Miranda as Andrea had, but Miranda supposed that possibly in time she would. Or not. And then she could just fire her and move on. But at the moment everything was going smoothly.

Miranda glanced down at her watch, noting that it was almost 10:30. She had decided to leave the party at 10:45 so that she could get her rest. And also Andrea would be arriving around 11:00 and she had left instructions for Andrea to come to her room the minute she arrived.

Deciding that the cocktails were no longer appealing and the hordes of poorly dressed people around her were beginning to become rowdy from too much drink, she turned to Emily. "I'm leaving."

"All right." Emily nodded.

"You can stay if you want, but I expect you to have everything in order for tomorrow evening no later than 8:30 tomorrow morning."

Emily nodded.

After a few goodbyes to those people she knew, she called her driver and stepped out the front doors of the hotel where the party had been thrown. In no time a car pulled up and she climbed inside, happy to be free of all those people and the noise they created.

When she arrived at the Hilton Chicago, she was ushered through the front doors and the elevator button was pressed by an attentive worker. She climbed on and the top floor suite button was pressed for her. And then she was alone. In the elevator.

She sighed and began removing her diamond bracelet, its weight on her wrist had become too much. She couldn't wait to get out of her dress and put on something more comfortable. Though she loved the glamour of it all, and especially because she was a fashion icon, she felt bad admitting that she wanted to get out of her designer gown. But tonight she just felt like being comfortable.

As soon as the doors opened and she found herself in her suite, her Jimmy Choo's were kicked off and her jewelry lain neatly on her bathroom sink. She unzipped the back of her dress and watched as it fell to the ground. She was left topless with only her underwear on and she looked herself over in the mirror. Her body didn't look a day over twenty. True, her breasts were beginning to sag, but it couldn't be helped. Her waist looked as small as it ever had, and her stomach, though it had held two babies, did not look flawed at all. Compliments of her favorite plastic surgeon.

Though she wouldn't let him go near her face. Her face was her only way of telling time. She could easily disguise it with make-up, but when that make-up was removed she could see her true self. And that was the only thing she seemed to have left that was truly hers. The only real part of her body. Besides her boobs, which she hadn't thought about getting done until now.

Her hand gently cupped her left breast, feeling her soft skin beneath her fingers. As she let the boob go and her fingers trail down her solid stomach, she couldn't help but feel a hint of arousal. She hadn't had sex in months.

Her body was getting so tense in response to her lack of intimacy. She wished she could find someone, even a one night stand would do. But her power and position left little room for a mistake like that. It would be all over the news if word got out that she'd mindlessly fucked some little nobody.

A quick glimpse of the clock alerted Miranda to the fact that it was nearing 11:00. And before she could even move from her spot to grab something to cover her half-naked body, she heard a knock on her door. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," she muttered as she reached for a robe. She pulled it on and made her way towards the door to the suite. Andrea had the worst timing. She was now sexually aroused and half-naked and Andrea had the good sense to show up at that exact moment. It figured.

Miranda threw open the door and was met with those docile, big, brown eyes. Andrea was looking jetlagged and tired and her wardrobe reflected it. Jeans, ugly jacket, hideous shirt.

It wasn't the first time Andrea had encountered Miranda in her bathrobe. But the sight still surprised her. Though her face still looked radiant from whatever party she had attended that evening, Miranda's bare feet and white bathrobe clad body looked relaxed. It seemed a simpler, more manageable Miranda who stood before her.

Without words Miranda ushered Andrea in, offered her a seat and then sat across the coffee table from her, careful not to expose her naked thigh as she crossed her legs.

"What do you want?" Andrea's voice was soft, timid.

The very sound of it sent shivers down Miranda's back, but she wouldn't let that show. The mere question had sent her body reeling in to oblivion and she could think of quite a few dirty comebacks to make to that remark, but she was, after all, above that childishness.

Miranda picked up a piece of paper off the coffee table between them and tossed it in Andrea's direction. Andrea caught it, thankfully, and read over it. "There are some seminars I'd like you to go to tomorrow. I've marked them. I think they will be helpful to you." Miranda explained in her indifferent tone.

Andrea skimmed over her selections and nodded. "All right."

Miranda glanced away.

"Why are you doing this? For me?" Andrea's voice was a little fuller this time. She wasn't as shy in her questioning this time.

Miranda shrugged apathetically. "I wouldn't want people to think that a former employee of mine was doing poorly at her job. How do you think that would make me look?" She responded, though she knew her reasoning was far from the truth. Though the "truth" was far from her as well. She had no idea what the "truth" was. Why had she brought Andrea here?

"Of course." Andrea rolled her eyes. It was always about Miranda. "But what about the gown you had made for me?"

Miranda almost laughed, her lips curled in to a smile. "James wanted to make me a dress, but I'd already chosen a Dior gown. He needed to be showcased by someone." She stated dismissively, and then eyed Andrea. "And I was certain, and I'm glad I made this assumption, that you would not come prepared for such an event."

"You didn't tell me there was reason to be prepared. Editor of the year? Jesus, Miranda. You could have told me."

"I didn't think it was necessary." Miranda shrugged.

"Necessary? That's a big deal!" Andrea was ecstatic, but Miranda looked nonplused.

"Yes, well…" Miranda eyed Andrea again. How could someone so young have such poor fashion sense. Miranda could not fathom such a thing. She was a beautiful girl, with a nice figure. She should be wearing pencil skirts and trousers, not jeans and scraggly looking jackets.

"Miranda?"

"Hmm?" Miranda let her fingers brush over her lips.

"What are you looking at?" Andrea frowned.

"Your sad wardrobe decision." Miranda met Andrea's eyes.

"Right, of course you'd be focused on that." Andrea nodded. "Well, if there's nothing more, I'd like to sleep some before I have to wake up and be at this seminar on how to write a good journal article at eight in the morning."

Miranda nodded again, though she didn't really want her to leave. Not really. But what would she do if she stayed? There was nothing for them to do. They weren't going to bond over Lifetime movies and cookies. Miranda had never done such a thing and would never do such a thing, and so all she could do was release Andrea out of her suite and then return to her solitude.

But really Andrea had not wanted to leave. Not really. She had wanted to stay, but to stay would mean to suffer under Miranda's scrutinizing glare. And really what would have happened? It wasn't as if they would order up room service and make prank calls like teenagers. Miranda was definitely not like that.

But there was something about Miranda that had looked so lost, so sad. Andrea supposed she'd just wanted to stay so she could comfort the depressed looking woman. However, to comfort Miranda was something Andrea had no idea how to do. She'd never quite figured it out. When she would try, Miranda would push her away with some kind of work task. That was always Miranda's response to emotional things. More work.

But what were these strange emotions that kept emerging every time Andrea felt or knew she would be near Miranda. She wanted to be with her, but at the same time the woman scared the living daylights out of her. How could she deeply care so much about a woman who had put her through hell and then pulled her back again?

As Miranda lay down on her bed, her bathrobe falling haphazardly open, she couldn't help but wonder what these strange feelings she had for Andrea meant. She had never done anything like what she was doing now. She had no idea why she cared so much about her former assistant. The girl had, after all, left her in Paris.

But perhaps that was exactly why.

Andrea Sachs was a challenge. And Miranda Priestly loved a good challenge.

TBC...