Merry Christmas hayseed_42
Merry Christmas hayseed_42 !! I know it's a little late, and I hope you forgive me. The reason it has taken so long is that it's pretty long and I kept running into characterization issues. Anyway, I hope you like this...
Prompt:
Secret-admirer fic that takes place around Christmastime. Andy, in a relatively stable relationship with Miranda, is receiving secret admirer gifts. They could end up being from Miranda (but that’s kind of cliché) or not (better). Ending is your choice. Chocolate Santa Bonus Points for including Nate somehow (good or bad, doesn’t matter).
I couldn't quite manage to fit Nate himself in, partially because it would slow the story down and partially because I am really bad at writing from male perspectives. But I mentioned him, does that count? :)
Title: Secret Admirer
Rating: PG
19th December
Whistling the tune to ‘Feliz Navidad’ under her breath, Andy paused to allow the guards at the entrance to Elias-Clarke to buzz her through. The warmth of the building was a nice change from the frost-nipped air that had caused Andy to wear a thick, unfashionable woolen scarf on her way to work this morning. She stepped into the elevator and, as the floors ticked by, began to quickly unwind it from around her neck before any of the Runway clackers saw her. It disappeared into her oversized bag.
Andy stepped out and headed for the office. She pushed open the glass doors and came to an abrupt halt. Sitting on her desk was an enormous bouquet of brilliant red roses. Had someone mistaken her desk for Miranda’s? She looked across at Emily. “Um, Em? What’s that?”
Emily arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow in a nearly exact mimicry of Miranda. “Really Andy, I’d have thought even you would recognize roses.”
Andy flushed. “I know that. But what’s it doing on my desk?”
Emily waved a hand. “How would I know? I turned up and it was already dripping all over the floor.” She scowled at a damp patch of carpet below Andy’s desk. “Now you need to get rid of it before Miranda gets in. Roy already called, she’s on her way.”
“Right,” Andy said blankly. It took her several seconds to pull herself together enough to walk to her desk. She picked up the bouquet and was immediately enveloped in a cloud of perfume. She gripped the desk to keep her balance as the overpowering scent threatened to make her sick. Pulling her head out of range of the roses, she hunted for a card. From deep within, she tugged out a thick, cream-colored card. She read one side and then flipped it over. No signature. Only her name, typed in a simple black cursive font. Not a case of mistaken identity then. “Um.” Who the hell had sent this? Maybe Miranda…Andy’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Miranda had never been particularly fond of grand romantic gestures, but there was always a chance...
Her head shot up as the glass doors swung open. She took one look at Miranda’s glacial expression and knew the flowers weren’t from her. Andy gulped.
“Andrea,” Miranda said slowly.
Andy winced. Not that tone of voice again. “Yes, Miranda?”
“What is that?” The editor’s voice was like ice.
“Um, nothing.” Andy cringed. “Someone left them on my desk, that’s all.”
Miranda’s lips pursed. “Are they addressed to you?”
“Um, yes?” Andy bit her bottom lip nervously.
Miranda’s eyes flashed and she strode past without another word. Her bag made a loud thunk as it crashed down on Andy’s desk, followed by the jacket. As Miranda disappeared into her inner sanctum, Andy couldn’t help but admire the way the Valentino suit clung to the editor’s body.
Her attention was dragged back as Emily rapped her desk. The first assistant made violent gestures at the flowers in her hands while glaring at Andy. Her message was clear.
Andy looked down at the rubbish bin. She couldn’t bring herself to toss the beautiful blooms into the cold metal bin, and yet she knew she couldn’t keep them either. That would be just asking for trouble, and Andy had big plans for tonight as the twins were away at their father’s house. She eyed Miranda’s door warily, and then sidled along to the glass doors. Ignoring Emily’s frantic waves, Andy slipped out the doors and headed down the corridor.
Her heels clacked as she arrived at the receptionist’s desk. “Hey, Joanna.”
The thin, blonde secretary looked up. “Oh, hey Andy.” The smile she gave Andy was vacant.
Andy glanced around and then dropped her voice. “Hey, so um, someone left these on my desk this morning.” She waved the bouquet of flowers.
“They’re gorgeous,” Joanna cooed.
Restraining from rolling her eyes, Andy continued. “And um, I don’t want them and I noticed your desk was bare. D’you want them to put on your desk? Or to take home with you tonight?”
Joanna’s face lit up. “Really? Wow, that’s really sweet of you Andy.”
Andy smiled uncomfortably. “Yeah, well.” She coughed and pushed them over the desk. “There you go, then.” She hesitated. “Just, um, don’t let Miranda see them, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Joanna chirped.
“Great,” Andy glanced down the corridor. “Gotta go.” She fairly ran back down to the office, skidding into the outside office just in time to see Emily putting away Miranda’s coat and bag.
“Where’s my Starbucks? Andrea, I need coffee.”
*~*~*
20th December
Andy hid a grimace of pain as she tried to keep from hobbling into the lift the next morning. She hadn’t felt this stiff and...uncomfortable after sex in years. But it had been worth it. A self-satisfied smirk crossed Andy’s lips at the memories of Miranda’s head disappearing between her thighs and the resulting multiple climaxes. If she hadn’t known better, she would almost say that Miranda had been trying to prove something.
She leaned against the wall as the elevator started it’s climb. It was going to be an uncomfortable day sitting at her desk, that was for certain. A yawn threatened to split her face and she covered it quickly, even though she was alone.
The elevator chimed and Andy hurried past Joanna’s desk. The flowers were gone, clearly Joanna had taken them home with her the night before. A shrill ringing echoed in the corridor and Andy winced. She took off down the corridor, praying that whoever it was wouldn’t hang up before she got there. She skidded through the glass doors and dove over the desk. “Miranda Priestly’s offiiiiiiiice!” She squeaked as she fell off the other side of the table.
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, before someone cleared their throat. “Yes. I’m calling on behalf of Robert Frank to confirm his attendance at Runway’s Christmas party on the 24th.”
Andy blinked. Robert Frank? A year and a half of talking to the most famous people in fashion hadn’t quite prepared her for that bombshell. Frank was a recluse, well known for his refusal of invitations, so why would he attend a Christmas party of all things? And to RSVP less than a week before the event?
“Hello?”
Andy scrambled off the floor. “Right, sorry. Of course.” She fumbled on her desk for a moment and then crossed the name off on the list. “Got it. Thank you.” As she hung up the phone, Andy rubbed her sore hip from where she’d collided with the floor and glared at Emily’s empty desk.
She sat down in her chair with a sigh, and froze. Slowly, she slid a hand under her and her fingers touched something hard. She tugged it out and found herself staring at a pale blue box with the silver engraved word ‘Tiffany’ across the front. Attached was another cream card, this time with the words ‘Dearest Andy, From Your Secret Admirer’ typed in black ink.
Hesitantly, Andy slid the silver ribbon off the box. She eased the lid off and peered inside. A heavy three-strand diamond-encrusted silver necklace lay on the soft cloth bed. Andy’s jaw dropped. She’d never seen anything quite so...gaudy, or so clearly designed to show off the giver’s wealth. It was impossible to imagine anything in her wardrobe, or anyone’s wardrobe for that matter, that would go with it.
Andy eyed the horrendous thing, wondering what the hell she was going to do with it. Of course she was flattered that someone was interested in her, but not knowing his identity was starting to get a bit creepy. Nor was she used to someone spending enormous amounts of money on her. Miranda gave her gifts, of course, but Andy was uncomfortable even with that. The fact that someone she didn’t know was presenting her with Tiffany jewelry, even horrible jewelry, was too much.
But she couldn’t return it, since she didn’t know who it was from. And she definitely wasn’t ever going to wear it. Andy looked around frantically, hoping the answer would magically pop into her head. The sound of clicking heels reverberated through the office. Panicked, Andy shoved the box into the top drawer of her desk and slammed it shut.
Emily appeared in the office, already talking on the phone. She spied Andy sitting in the chair and a frown creased her forehead. She covered the mouthpiece for a moment and hissed, “She’s on her way. Go on, get moving.”
Andy slumped back against her chair, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. Great. She was out of time. Now she just had to keep Miranda from seeing the necklace, because who knows what the temperamental editor would see it as, until she figured out what the hell to do with it.
“Andy! Move it!”
****
Andy fumbled for a few seconds before she managed to slip the key into the lock and open the door to the townhouse, shivering slightly in the cold.
“Hi Andy,” Caroline’s head appeared around the edge of the kitchen door. “We’re in here.”
“I’ll be right there.” Andy moved towards the cupboard to hang up her jacket. She shut the door and then headed for the kitchen. The smell of baked salmon drifted out as she stepped through the door. “Sorry I’m late.” She’d had to stay back at the office to deal with the last minute scramble to find a replacement model for the Texas shoot when news came in that Michelle had broken her arm and would be unavailable. She walked to the head of the table and bent to kiss Miranda’s cheek. “Miranda. Hi girls.”
“It’s all right.” Miranda gestured for her to take a seat before turning to her daughter. “Cassidy, don’t be silly, it’s all right to eat some carbs. Moderation, not starvation, is the key.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes but obediently reached for the bowl sitting in the middle of the table. Andy eyed the spread of four types of lettuce, cucumber and tomatoes sprinkled with baked salmon, but said nothing. She was getting used to the constant diet that the three Priestly females were on, and she had to admit that it was doing wonders for her own figure. “How did your presentation go today, Caroline?”
Caroline tried to hide the sparkle in her eyes with a shrug. “Fine, I guess.”
“Mrs. Foster said she did really well,” Cassidy over-rode her sister’s modesty. “An A+. She got the best grade in her class.”
“Congrats,” Andy grinned and held her hand out for a high-five.
Caroline smiled smugly, clearly pleased with herself, and slapped Andy’s hand.
Miranda rolled her eyes.
“So I guess shifting your topic from Greek to Celtic mythology worked, huh.” Andy distinctly remembered Caroline’s tears the week before as she struggled to pull together a project on Greek mythology. The romaine lettuce crunched audibly between her teeth as she bit down on the bitter leaf.
“Yup,” Caroline shrugged, seeming to forget all about her accomplishment. “Are you coming over for Christmas?”
Andy shot a look at Miranda, feeling her heart miss a beat. “Um, I’m not sure girls. We haven’t really discussed it.” She wanted to, but she wasn’t sure what Miranda’s feelings on the topic were. Their relationship was stable, but Christmas with the family was a huge thing.
Cassidy pouted. “Come on Andy. It’s Christmas.”
“And you’re practically family already,” Cassidy wheedled.
Andy laughed, a little uncomfortably. “I’ll think about it.”
Cassidy looked at her with big puppy eyes that made Andy’s heart melt. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Caroline seemed to consider it settled. “Good. Oh! Cass, have you got your Berry lip-gloss from Bobbi? I think I left mine at Dad’s last weekend and I want to wear it tomorrow.”
Andy watched Miranda out of the corner of her eye as the twins continued their own conversation. The editor was being very quiet, letting her children and lover dominate the conversation. She was dying to ask if something was wrong, but Andy knew better than to do that in front of the twins.
Nearly ten minutes later, the twins’ plates were empty. Caroline looked up at her mother. “Can we go?”
Miranda nodded, pushing her chair back out from the table slightly. “Do you have homework, girls?”
“Mum!” Caroline groaned as Cassidy tugged her out of her seat. The two disappeared out the door, no doubt headed to their rooms to finish their homework and surf the internet.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Andy got out of her seat and crossed the length of the table in three strides. She straddled Miranda, linking her hands behind the editor’s neck. “Hi love.”
Miranda’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi.”
Andy paused in the act of leaning in for a kiss. “Miranda? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Miranda’s words were brusque and Andy flinched slightly. Miranda caught the movement and her voice softened, “Sorry. It’s...been a long day.”
Andy leaned back, staring down into her lover’s eyes. She was lying. Runway hadn’t been any more stressful than normal, and as the assistant she’d been the one fielding most of the last minute panics that Miranda never learnt about. Something else was bothering her and Andy didn’t have a clue what it was.
“I’m fine, Andrea,” Miranda repeated, clearly sensing Andy’s disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Andy bit her lip for a moment and then decided to let it go. Even if she pushed, she doubted she’d be able to get anything more from her. Miranda would deal with whatever it was in her own time, as she always did. It was something that both amused and frustrated Andy; Miranda’s fierce independence. “All right.”
“Now come here,” Miranda tugged her head down to meet her own. Andy closed her eyes, losing herself in the familiar sensation of Miranda’s hot mouth against her own.
*~*~*
21st December
Andy slid out of the king sized bed, careful not to disturb the still slumbering Miranda. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she yawned. She gazed down at the figure in the bed. The sleeping woman barely resembled the Miranda Priestly of Runway that the world knew. Lines that were normally hidden by make-up were visible on her face and neck, but her entire face was relaxed as though the stress and pressure of life as the queen of fashion melted away in her sleep. She was beautiful. Even six months after the beginning of their unlikely relationship, Andy could barely believe that this was happening to her.
With one final glance at her lover, Andy reached for her clothes and began to shimmy into them. Last night hadn’t been a planned sleep over, so she didn’t have any clothes to wear to work. She’d have to hurry home to shower and change before heading to Runway. Patting her hair into some semblance of order, Andy leaned over the bed and brushed a kiss across Miranda’s cheek.
Miranda stirred, her eyes opening blearily. “Andrea?”
“Shh,” Andy pressed her fingers against Miranda’s lips. “I’m going back to my house to change. I’ll see you at Runway.” Miranda nodded sleepily, her eyes already drooping shut. Andy smiled fondly for one last moment before turning and padding out the door.
She let herself out of the townhouse into the predawn darkness of New York City, and covered a yawn. She deliberated with herself for a moment, and then decided she was too sleepy to take the subway. It took several minutes for her to hail a cab and every moment increased her chances of being spotted by Miranda’s neighbors, but as she leaned her head against the headrest with the cab pulling into the early morning traffic, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
An hour later, Andy was in another cab on her way to Runway. Traffic had picked up so the cab was crawling along the road towards the Elias-Clarke building. “Come on...” she glanced at her watch. She was running late. Emily would already be there and Andy was supposed to have been there thirty minutes ago. But first her hot water wouldn’t work, then her shirt was creased and she’d had to iron it. Then she’d managed to burn a hole in the very expensive Chloe shirt and had to scramble to find a new top that would go with her pants. And now the traffic was horrendous and it’d taken her fifteen minutes to get this far. She sighed. Sometimes, being fashionable was far more hassle than it was worth. Her phone rang. “Hello?”
“Andy!” Emily barked. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way,” Andy glanced at the building looming in the distance. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Miranda will be here in five and she wants her coffee.” Emily didn’t bother to say goodbye before she hung up.
“Shit,” Andy peered out the window at the traffic, which was nearly at a standstill, and then at the Starbucks further down the road. She was Miranda’s lover, but that didn’t save her bacon at work. There, Miranda was no different to the tyrant she’d been before they’d gotten involved. Worse even, as though trying to ensure she couldn’t be accused of favoritism. But then, Andy thought dryly, there was no-one to accuse her of it. Only Nigel knew about their relationship, and he’d only discovered it accidentally. None of Andy’s friends knew, even Lily and Doug, and certainly no-one at Runway.
She tapped the cab driver on the shoulder. “This is fine. Thanks.” She shoved cash into his hand and then slid out the door. She ignored the honks of the cars as she weaved her way through them, tottering in her stiletto boots. By the time she reached Starbucks, her ankles were trembling. She caught her breath as she waited for her order to get through. Her phone went off again. She scrambled for it and was still breathless when she answered. “Yes?”
“She’s here,” Emily hissed. “Where the hell are you?” In the background, Miranda’s voice was muffled but her angry tone was quite clear. The editor was telling someone off within minutes of walking in, which didn’t bode well for the rest of the day. What was she doing there anyway? She was supposed to be at a meeting with a couple of designers from Gucci.
“At Starbucks,” Andy gratefully accepted the styrofoam cups and hurried for the door. Balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she pulled open the door and began her mad dash to Elias-Clarke.
“Well hurry up!” Emily hung up again without saying goodbye.
Rolling her eyes, Andy fled towards Elias-Clarke. She stumbled through the turnstiles that a frantic guard buzzed open for her, and then sagged against the lift wall. The lift beeped its arrival on the Runway floor, and Andy straightened, still trying to regulate her heavy breathing.
One of the Accessories assistants was standing by the lift when it opened, her eyes red and swollen and tear tracks marring her skin. She glared at Andy, the effect of which was mitigated as she sniffed. “Go! She’s a nightmare.”
Well, at least Miranda hadn’t fired the poor girl. If she had there would have been more tears and shouting. Andy hurried down the corridor, pausing only to nudge open the glass doors.
Emily’s head snapped up and a strange combination of fury and relief passed over her face as she gestured furiously towards the open door into the inner office.
Andy stepped into the office warily. Her gaze went straight to the editor, who was standing near the window and looking limply out into the grey sky. Andy felt a rush of sympathy for the exhausted looking editor. She looked like Andy had felt after the Chicago flight incident last year, and it was only eight in the morning. “Miranda?”
Miranda didn’t respond.
After a quick glance back at Emily, Andy pushed shut the door quietly. “Hey.” She crossed the room to stand beside Miranda. She pressed the burning hot cup of coffee into Miranda’s hand and rested her palm on Miranda’s shoulder tentatively, unsure if Miranda was going to accept her comfort here. “You okay?”
“Those incompetents managed to lose nearly ten thousand dollars worth of accessories on the Hawaii shoot,” Miranda sipped from the coffee without turning away from the window.
Andy winced. Irv was not going to take that well.
“Tim’s been hospitalized from a car accident, so we don’t have anyone on the Prague shoot,” Miranda’s hands clenched on the cup, her knuckles turning white. “And two of the Fashion assistants have applied for maternity leave.”
Andy rubbed her back soothingly.
Miranda was still for a single, exhausted moment. Then the familiar cloak of power seemed to settle on her shoulders as she straightened and her face smoothed into its normal cold and calm expression. She didn’t look at Andy. “I’m going to visit the Art department in five minutes. That’s all.”
Andy hid the sharp pain in her heart as she turned away and hurried out of the room. She scolded herself. This was Miranda’s style, she treated everyone brusquely and never admitted to weakness at work. Although her head knew that, Andy’s heart flinched every time her lover snapped at her.
Emily, on her phone with one of the designers, looked up as Andy slid into her seat and raised an eyebrow pointedly and glanced at the formerly closed door. Andy shrugged, and bent to turn on her computer. While she was waiting for it to load, she reached for the phone and dialed the art department. “Hi, Janine.” The former art director had moved to Runway Italia the month before and Janine, from Vogue, had replaced her. “She’s coming down.”
On the other end, Janine squeaked and hung up without saying goodbye. Andy shook her head in amusement and set the phone back in it’s cradle. Almost instantly it rang. “Miranda Priestly’s office.” She reached for a pen and a pad of paper, paused and then tugged a stylish black folder towards her from one corner of her desk. “Hi, Natalie. Yes, we got your proposed menu. It looks great.” It was three days before the Runway Christmas gala and Natalie was confirming about the sixth different menu that she’d put together for Miranda. The other five had been rejected.
A flash of black and white swept through Andy’s peripheral vision as Miranda left the office at a brisk walk. She flipped through the folder, glancing at the page of notes she’d made the day before. “Just one change. She doesn’t like the wine for the desert. Could you get something else instead? Okay, thanks. Bye.”
Setting the phone down, Andy swiveled to face her computer and clicked on the internet browser.
A hand appeared under her nose, holding a small pale blue box and a cream envelope.
Andy looked up at Emily in surprise. “Em?”
Emily looked irritated. “It was on your desk when I arrived this morning.” She scowled. “After seeing Miranda’s reaction to the flowers two days ago, I decided to save both of us and hide it.”
“Thanks,” Andy’s numb fingers closed around the box. She’d almost forgotten about her secret admirer.
Emily sniffed. “Just get your boyfriend to stop sending them here, before we both lose our jobs!”
“It’s not my boyfriend,” Andy retorted. Emily raised an eyebrow in a disturbing mimicry of Miranda, and retreated to her desk.
Andy eyed the package in her hands with a sinking feeling. Whoever it was wasn’t giving up easily. Slowly, she pulled open the blue box, and cringed. Inside were garish, but expensive, earrings that perfectly matched the horrible necklace from the day before. Swallowing, she covered the box back up.
The phone rang, but before she could get to it, Emily was answering.
She flipped the envelope over, eyeing the wax seal with disbelief. Who used wax seals in this day and age? She cracked the seal and tugged out a cream card, vaguely hearing the door swing open. Her jaw dropped .
Be my date to the Runway gala?
It was still unsigned. Andy could barely believe her eyes. The gala was one of the highlights of the social season. Designers, businessmen, fashionistas and editors from across the world attended it every year. It was not for the likes of her, except in her capacity as Miranda’s assistant. Who the hell had the guts to try to invite her as a guest?
“What’s that?” Nigel’s voice intruded as he plucked the card out of her hands. He raised an eyebrow at it, and then looked up at her with a visible question in his eyes.
Andy spread her hands. “No idea who it came from.”
Nigel handed the card back to her with a significant look. “If I were you, I’d get rid of that quick.” He threw a look over his shoulder at Emily, who was still on the phone. “Someone might get a little edgy.”
Andy nodded. “Believe me. I know.” She thought back to Miranda’s reaction when the flowers turned and shivered.
“Hm,” Nigel glanced down at his watch. “When will she get back?”
“She’s down in the Art department,” Andy shrugged.
Nigel sighed. “So whenever she gets fed up with their incompetence then.” He hopped onto the edge of the desk. “So, what’s this about the card?”
Andy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “No idea. I got flowers two days ago and a necklace yesterday, and now this.”
“How flattering,” Nigel commented. “Can I see?” He transferred the card to the other hand and gestured at the Tiffany box.
Andy waved him on. “Go ahead.”
He lifted the box off the table and opened it. His eyes popped. “Oh my god!” He touched one of the bejeweled dangling earrings.
There was a crash as the glass door flew open and nearly bounced off the wall. Nigel jumped in surprise, both the card and box falling from his hands in a clatter. Andy’s face drained of blood as Miranda’s gaze landed on the earrings and the clearly distinguishable words engraved on the card.
An indecipherable look swept across Miranda’s face before it vanished and Miranda walked into her office without another word.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Andy cursed under her breath as she sprang to collect the errant presents.
Emily glared at her, clearly unhappy. She hadn’t missed the iciness that had descended upon Miranda and they both knew that Miranda was going to be worse than ever.
“Emily, can I borrow you for a sec? I need to talk to you about the Accessories department.” Nigel stepped forward.
“Um…” Emily glanced towards the open doorway to Miranda’s inner sanctum.
“Andy will mind the phones,” Nigel coaxed. “Come on.”
“All right,” Emily conceded. “But quickly.”
“Of course,” Nigel steered the assistant towards the glass doors, throwing a significant look over his shoulder at Andy.
As the door swung shut behind them, Andy swallowed and eyed the doors. Time to face the music. Putting the jewelry back down on her desk, she headed for the office.
“Get out.”
Andy froze.
The editor hadn’t even looked up from her laptop. “Did you not hear me, Emily? I said, get out.”
Emily? Andy felt shock mixed with anger bubble up inside her. Miranda hadn’t called her Emily in well over a year, and she had no damn right to start now! With an effort, she clamped down on the feeling. Miranda was just being Miranda. “No.”
Miranda’s head shot up, her eyes like daggers and her voice glacial, “Excuse me?”
“I said no, Miranda,” Andy was careful to keep her voice low. “We are going to talk about this, and talk about it now.”
“Talk about what, Andrea?” Miranda hissed. “About how you flaunt your boyfriend in front me, in my own office!”
Andy couldn’t help but feel startled. She’d never seen Miranda lose her cool this quickly. Of course, they’d fought before, but Miranda had never reacted quite like this. “Miranda, please.” She cast a wary eye over her shoulder at the glass doors. “Don’t be mad. I don’t know who they’re from, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Miranda didn’t look up.
Andy continued as though Miranda hadn’t spoken. “They’ve just been appearing on my desk and I don’t know where they came from or how to stop them.”
Miranda typed away at her computer without answering.
Andy leaned across the desk. “Miranda.”
At last, the editor looked up, her gaze cold.
“I know you’re upset about the gifts I’ve been getting, but I honestly don’t want them.” Andy hoped Miranda believed her, because she didn’t know how to convince her otherwise.
Miranda regarded her for a long moment and then looked back down at her desk. “Get Patrick on the phone and bring forward my meeting with the boys at Gucci to 1 pm.” Her voice was crisp, but it’d lost the hard and cutting edge that it’d had before. “That’s all.”
Andy heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes, Miranda.” She turned on her heel to leave the room, and reached for the handle.
“Andrea,” Miranda’s voice interrupted her.
Andy turned around.
“Get rid of that invitation.”
“Yes, Miranda.” Andy already had plans to do just that, and hopefully get rid of this admirer too.
The editor was watching her now. “I love you.”
Andy smiled. “I love you too.” She opened the door and hurried back to her desk. She had call Gucci and move up the meeting, write her rejection on the back of the invitation and find somewhere to leave it, and then go track down Miranda’s coffee. Then, hopefully, things would be back to normal.
*~*~*
22nd December
Andy jabbed at the keyboard in front of her and scowled. “Arrogant, self-centered, inconsiderate bitch.” It was a good thing that Emily was out at lunch or Andy would’ve had to listen to a lecture about being more understanding of Miranda’s needs and difficult position.
“Whoa, Six,” a dry voice drawled. “What has she done to deserve that many adjectives?”
Andy looked up at Nigel’s amused face and then glared at the glass doors that Miranda had disappeared through on her way to Marc Jacob’s. She sighed, the anger draining from her body. “She’s being Miranda.”
Nigel tilted his head, “Hmm?”
“I got another anonymous gift this morning,” Andy scowled at the drawer which held the persistent swain’s latest offering. “And Miranda’s been acting like a bitch ever since.” She’d thought they’d sorted the whole thing out yesterday, but apparently not. All it had taken was one look at the latest present, a formal Valentino gown, in Andy’s hands, for Miranda to fall back into her snit and alternately snap at and ignore Andy.
“Poor Andy,” Nigel mocked. “Not all is happy on the domestic front, huh?” He grinned broadly, clearly finding it amusing.
Andy glared at him half-heartedly. “Friends aren’t supposed to revel in other friends unhappiness.” She really was worried about what was going to happen to her and Miranda. The editor had this habit of blowing everything out of proportion and Andy had a sinking feeling about this one. She’d never seen Miranda acting quite like this before.
Nigel arranged his face in an appropriately contrite expression. “I’m sorry.” He smirked again. “You remember when I said that when your personal life went to hell, it was time for a promotion? Somehow, I don’t think that applies here.”
“Ha ha.” Andy opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by the shrill sound of her cellphone. She held a hand up to pause her conversation with Nigel. “Andy Sachs here.”
“Hey Andy,” Lily’s cheerful voice greeted her.
“Hi Lily.” Andy glanced at her watch in surprise. Lily was supposed to be at the art gallery at the moment, so why was she calling Andy? “I can’t chat. I’m at Runway.”
“Yeah yeah.” Andy could hear the eye roll in her voice. “So, anyway, I just got a call from Nate.”
Andy felt a chill go down her spine. She hadn’t spoken to her ex-boyfriend since he left for Boston. Neither Doug or Lily spoke about him around Andy as a sort of unspoken pact. “From Nate?” She saw Nigel lean in closer.
“Yeah. And guess what?”
“What?”
“He wants to get together for dinner!” Lily said triumphantly. “You, me and Doug.”
“Really?” Andy said weakly, her thoughts whirling.
“Yeah. Tonight. 7 o’clock. At that pizzeria he loves.” Lily’s enthusiasm was clear. “So, you free?”
“I don’t thi...” Andy cut herself off. She would have to face Nate again at some point. She couldn’t keep avoiding him like this, and making things uncomfortable for her friends whenever he was brought up. Miranda won’t like it, a little voice reminded her. Andy’s stomach twisted. This could give Miranda another reason to break off their relationship. But Miranda was sulking and acting like a spoilt child at the moment. In fact, her behavior reminded Andy very much of Cassidy’s last month when the kid had gotten the blue Prada purse instead of the pink one that Caroline had received. Screw Miranda, Andy decided, overruling the small voice inside her head. “Sure, I can make it.”
“Great! Oh, and after dinner we’re going to go out for drinks.” Lily’s voice lowered. “And Andy, try not to be late.”
Andy winced at the reminder of her eternal tardiness. “I’ll be there,” she promised. “Seven o’clock, tonight, outside the pizzeria. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Andy laid the phone down, already wondering if that had been such a good idea. But she couldn’t change her mind now. She looked up at Nigel, almost daring him to object.
He held up his hands. “It’s none of my business how much you like baiting the Devil.” He paused. “But, as the fashion director, I have to ask. How are you going to deliver the Book tonight then?”
Andy’s eyes widened. She’d completely forgotten about that. “Shit!” She cast around frantically. It was one thing to make a point to Miranda in their personal lives, but it was entirely another for her not to do her job. Her gaze landed on Emily’s empty chair. “I’ll get Emily to do it.” She heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against her chair. “She owes me one for covering her butt last month.”
“Oh?” Nigel looked intrigued. “Do tell.”
“Nuh uh,” Andy wagged a finger. “That’s my secret with Em.”
“Spoilsport,” Nigel pouted.
The sound of click-clacking heels echoed down the hallway, and Nigel straightened. “I must be off. Photography screwed up again. If Miranda sees it, we’ll find ourselves without a Photography department.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “Oh goodie.”
Nigel swept out of the glass doors just as Emily’s size 0 figure appeared. Andy eyed her waif-like appearance and shook her head. No doubt Em’s lunch had consisted of two pieces of lettuce and a glass of water now that she was off that ridiculous cheese diet. “Hey, Em, I have a favor to ask...”
*~*~*
23rd December
Her head ached. It felt like someone was jumping up and down on a child’s bouncy castle inside her skull. Even the innocent sound of the elevator was enough to make her wince and her stomach rebel. Her enormous tinted Prada sunglasses provided some protection against the harsh light, but not enough to make it comfortable in the fluorescent lighting of Elias Clarke.
Andy sagged against the elevator wall as it carried her upwards. She groaned, holding her throbbing head. This was the price for the night of drinking the night before. She’d gone out with her friends, but guilt and worry over her relationship with Miranda had spoiled her enjoyment of it. Her memory started to get hazy at around ten pm, after she’d pleaded tiredness to her friends and gone back to her apartment to nurse a bottle of vodka and cry. How the hell had she been so irresponsible as to get herself drunk on a workday? She needed to be on top of her game at Runway, and a hangover wasn’t going to be any help. Miranda was going to kill her. Andy moaned as the doors slid open, the sound of metal against metal tormenting her ears.
She stepped through the glass doors into the outer office and stopped dead. “Oh great. Today is getting better and better.” Even the sound of her own voice was grating on her raw nerve endings. She glared at the wrapped gift on the desk. Whoever the mysterious sender was, he was not taking no for an answer. Even though she’d left the invitation on her desk two days before with a firm ‘no’ written beneath it, and she knew he’d received it because it was gone from the desk the next morning and she’d left after all the cleaning crew had gone and arrived yesterday before anyone else had turned up, he was still sending her gifts.
Emily’s voice penetrated the foggy cloud of pain in Andy’s head, “especially as you are...thirty-five minutes late.”
Andy flinched and glanced down at her watch. Sure enough, it read 7:35. “Sorry.” She stumbled to her desk and shoved the unopened gift into her desk. No sense in making her day even worse and pissing off Miranda when she arrived. She collapsed into the chair, hoping that the Tylenol she’d downed in the cab was going to kick in soon.
“Andrea,” the summons came from inside the office.
Andy froze. Oh shit. Miranda was already here. She’d already seen the box on the desk.
“Andrea,” Miranda repeated, sounding impatient.
Andy forced herself to respond, despite her body’s pleas for her to stay sat until the painkiller worked. She dragged herself into the office. “Yes, Miranda?” She tried not to flinch, determined not to let Miranda know that she had a hangover.
“Call Janet and push the meeting back to three o’clock,” Miranda didn’t look up from her laptop. “Tell Isabella that if she doesn’t come up with a better location for Caroline and Cassidy’s birthdays by midday, she’s fired. I need an appropriate present for one of Caroline’s friends tomorrow, I trust you to find something. Get me Patrick....”
It took several seconds for Andy’s brain to register that Miranda’s voice had trailed off. only to find the editor pinning her with a searching look. A cool expression crossed the editor’s face. “Andrea.”
Oh no. “Yes, Miranda?” Andrea swallowed.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses? Surely even your incompetence registers the fact that you are, in fact, inside?” Miranda’s sneer was firmly in place. “Or did you perhaps think we were meeting on the beach in Hawaii? Do you wish you were there instead of here?”
“Uh, no Miranda.” Andy yanked the sunglasses off her face, praying that her make-up was holding up and disguising the dark circles beneath her eyes. She vaguely registered that Miranda’s voice had stopped hurting her ears, so the Tylenol had kicked in. But that fact faded in importance compared to the fact she was about to be fired.
As she waited for Miranda’s sentence to descend on her, a horrifying new thought occurred to her. She distantly remembered calling Miranda at some point last night to tell her that she was out with Nate. In the cool light of the morning, with fresh objectivity, she could see that maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to push Miranda by going out with Nate while their own relationship was on rocky grounds. The fact that she was about to be fired was suddenly insignificant. Was Miranda about to end whatever it was between them?
Miranda tapped her lips with her pen without her gaze wavering from its scrutiny of Andy’s face. “Andrea. Shut the door.”
Andy forced her leaden feet to carry her to the door and then back to the desk in front of Miranda.
“My employees do not come to work with a hangover,” Miranda’s voice was quiet. “Or they do not come back ever again. I expected better of you, Andrea. You’re a professional, and I expected you to act like it.”
Andy cringed inwardly, feeling her heart plummet. The cool disappointment in Miranda’s tone cut her more deeply than shouting ever could. She hated disappointing anyone, especially Miranda. It was worse than just disappointing her boss, because as much as Andy tried not to, she couldn’t separate her lover from the Miranda Priestly of Runway. When Miranda dressed her down, it was a double whammy.
“I should fire you this instant,” Miranda’s hand tightened on the armrest of her chair.
Andy swallowed, waiting.
“But I won’t,” Miranda’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Even after all you’ve done to hurt me, Andrea, I can’t bring myself to hurt you.”
Righteous anger flared up inside Andy, overwhelming the sense of shame that had ruled until now. “To hurt you, Miranda?” she lashed out. “What about what you’ve done to hurt me?”
Miranda’s eyes flashed with something that looked like surprise.
Andy didn’t give her a chance to open her mouth as she rushed on. “You’ve been punishing me for presents that some random other person is giving to me, even though you know that I don’t want them and I’ve tried to get rid of them. That hurts me, you know, that you jump to conclusions and don’t listen to me.”
“Andrea,” Miranda began.
Andy barreled on as if Miranda hadn’t spoken. “And you accused me of flaunting a boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend, Miranda. I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Tears prickled in Andy’s eyes and she blinked them away. “You want to know why I’ve got a hang-over this morning, Miranda? It’s because I went back to my apartment last night and drank myself unconscious, trying to forget the heartache that you’ve been putting me through ever since I got that first damned gift.” By now the tears were trailing down her cheeks, and Andy suddenly couldn’t face her lover for a moment more. Without another word, Andy spun on her heel and fled the office.
Emily looked up in surprise, her eyes wide as she took in Andy’s tear and mascara-streaked face. She eyed Andy for a long moment, before sighing. “You’d better take twenty minutes to calm yourself down and fix your make-up. You look absolutely horrendous.”
A choked laugh bubbled out of Andy’s chest as she gave Emily a thankful look. Despite two years working in the harsh and demanding fashion world, Emily sometimes surprised Andy by showing a glimpse of human compassion.
“Go, go,” Emily waved her hand. “I’ll cover things here.” She half-heartedly glared at Andy. “God knows what Miranda would say if she came out and saw you looking like that.”
Andy blinked back another flood of tears and hurried away before Emily changed her mind.
*~*~*
24th December
Just after nine thirty, Andy stepped out of the black Town Car. The gala was already in full swing but as Miranda wasn’t due for arrival till nine forty-five, Andy had chosen to arrive over an hour late. Emily, on the other hand, had been here for hours. The first assistant had been responsible for throwing this whole thing together, and coupled with Emily’s high-strung nature, that meant Emily was freaking out about it.
Andy hurried up the steps and skirted the red-carpet. A lone photographer snapped a picture of her, but the rest of the reporters ignored her. That was fine by Andy, as it meant she was more quickly out of the cold and inside the warm building. Her strapless dark grey Chloe dress bared her shoulders and arms, and even the light wrap she’d thrown over the top wasn’t doing much to keep out the winter chill.
Once inside, Andy looked around for Emily’s distinctive figure. She found the Brit freaking out at one of the poor waiters, who looked scared shitless. Damage control time. “Hey, Em. Can I help with anything?”
Emily whirled. “Andy? Oh god,” she wailed. “Everything is going wrong!”
Andy noticed the waiter taking the opportunity to edge out of range and smothered a smile. “What’s happened?”
“The band is late,” Emily wrung her hands, “and those hopeless waiters have misplaced the best wine! And...”
Andy tuned her off as she eyed the mingling guests, each one dressed to the nines in evening gowns and tuxedos. Miranda hadn’t made her entrance yet, of course. That would happen in about ten minutes and then Miranda would linger for exactly an hour before making her escape.
Andy’s attention was caught by the slightly inebriated form of Irv Ravitz, whose arm was around the waist of a tall, blonde model. Andy’s eyebrows rose as she turned, sure that she’d spotted his wife somewhere. Sure enough, Mrs. Ravitz was standing not too far away, in conversation with Donatella Versace. Andy forced her eyebrows down and she continued scanning the room. The chairman’s screwed up love life was none of her business.
“Oooh.” Emily gripped her arm, hard. “She’s here.”
Andy turned and caught her breath. Miranda’s floor-length black gown, designed by Chanel as Andy recalled, gleamed in the soft light and set off the milky white skin of her throat. Diamonds shimmered in her ears and around her neck, reflecting the light in rays around her. Miranda floated down the stairs on four-inch black Manolo heels, her gaze zeroing in on her two assistants.
“Come on,” Emily hissed as she nearly scrambled through the crowd to reach Miranda’s side.
Miranda’s gaze narrowed as they approached. She gave them each a once-over, and then turned to Andy. “Andrea, I don’t need you. I’m sure Emily will do satisfactorily.” She sniffed, as though not quite convinced.
Andy blinked. “O..okay.” She hadn’t anticipated that. Was Miranda still pissed off at her? “Um, shall I go home then?” The last two days had been pure torture at the office, with Miranda going out of her way to avoid addressing Andy. But for Miranda to make it impossible for Andy to actually do her job?
Miranda sniffed. “Do whatever you want, Andrea. Or are you incapable of making a decision on your own?”
Andy flinched from the cutting words. But as she looked up, she met Miranda’s eyes. There was something in her eyes, that in anyone else Andy would have interpreted as pleading. Andy shook her head, obviously she was imagining things. “I’ll see you on Monday, Miranda. Emily.”
Miranda gave a brusque nod and walked off, Emily hot on her heels.
Andy watched them go. She’d stay until Miranda left, but after that, she was determined to sort out what was happening with Miranda. In the meantime, maybe a glass of champagne or three would dull the pain in her heart.
She swiped a glass from a waiter and retreated into a corner to nurse it. Scanning the room, she looked for Nigel. Maybe she’d go and hang out with him until Miranda left. But when she found him, he was deep in conversation with two men she didn’t recognize. Andy didn’t have the guts to go and interrupt them, so she stayed where she was, counting down the minutes.
Someone cleared their throat nearby, and Andy jumped. She turned to face the person, and found herself face to face with the CEO of Elias-Clarke. “Mr. Ravitz.” Andy struggled to compose herself, unsure of what the man wanted. The only times she ever spoke to him were when she was passing on messages to or from Miranda.
“Please, call me Irv,” he gave her a smile as he patted her arm.
Andy pulled back her arm unobtrusively and said nothing.
He didn’t seem to notice. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he observed, scanning her figure. Something that resembled disappointment flashed in his eyes, but Andy dismissed it.
“Thank you,” she returned politely. What game was he playing? She was no-one important, he didn’t need to flatter and pay attention to her. Unless, and her heart stopped at the thought, he’d figured out that Andy and Miranda were involved. Was he building up to firing her? Or trying to use her against Miranda?
“Would you like to dance?” He held out his hand.
Her mouth dropped open inelegantly and she stared at him. “What?”
“Would you like to dance?” he repeated, a smiling dancing on his lips.
To dance with him? Comprehension hit her like a bolt of lightning. Everything was falling into place. The gifts appearing on her desk before anyone came into Runway each morning, the overwhelming expense, the incredibly bad taste, and the balls to invite Miranda’s assistant to Miranda’s own party. “It was you,” she breathed. “The gifts, the invitation...” The disappointment must have been because he’d hoped she would wear his gifts to the gala.
Irv reached out to pat her arm again. “Yes.” He looked into her eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Andrea. You have so much more promise than a mere assistant. And I’m a powerful, lonely man. Maybe I could...help you?”
Andy tried not to be sick. She knew that men of his status had affairs all the time, but couldn’t he have the decency to be subtle about it? His wife and girlfriend were both in the room and he was hitting on her? Poorly too. “I’m flattered, but I’m quite happy with Miranda.” In both senses of the word, she added silently. But then she remembered that technically this man was her boss and she needed to be polite, and smiled charmingly. “I would not be good enough for you, Mr. Ravitz. I’m just a poor, country girl trying to make her way in the big world.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Irv patted her arm a third time.
More like pawed, Andy thought darkly.
Irv continued, “I’ve watched you with Miranda. You’re elegant, graceful and definitely talented if you can survive this long with her.”
An idea occurred to her. She took a step sideways and deliberately tripped, catching herself against the wall. “Whoops. Clumsy me.” She giggled. “I’m always tripping over things when I wear high heels.” Inwardly, Andy cringed. She sounded just like the empty-headed bimbos she’d always despised. But it was the only way she could think of to convince Irv that she wasn’t right for him. He wanted graceful and elegant, she would give him clumsy and air-head.
“I see,” Irv said slowly, eyeing her. “Well, I have to go...I have to see someone.” With that he quickly backed away and disappeared into the crowd. Andy sagged against the wall with a relieved sigh. Okay, it wasn’t perfect because now her boss thought she was dumb, but at least he was gone and wouldn’t be bothering her for a while.
“Very smooth,” Nigel murmured, appearing by her side. An amused expression was fixed on his face as he handed her a glass of some haphazard mixture of alcohol. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Thanks,” Andy accepted it with a grateful smile, and shuddered. “God, after that experience, I need the whole bar.” As she downed the drink, Andy didn’t see the blue eyes fastened on her from across the room.
****
Andy leaned against the wall, half-hidden by the tall potted plant and the marble column. From out in the ballroom, no-one would be able to see her. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, but yanked it down as soon as she remembered her make-up. She didn’t want to smudge that. A sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at her watch. It was two minutes to midnight. She hadn’t expected to have to stay this late on Christmas Eve of all evenings. Her plan had been to linger for the hour that Miranda was here, and then to make it to the townhouse and hopefully patch up this rift between them. But then Miranda had spoiled her plans but staying not for one hour, but coming up on two and a half hours. Admittedly, it looked like she’d been waylaid by Irv at the hour mark and ordered back in, but Andy wasn’t feeling very charitable at the moment.
She checked her watch again. One minute to midnight. She jumped, as a slender hand slid around her waist, twisting her around. As she stared up into ice-blue eyes, Andy dimly heard the clock chime midnight.
“I'm glad you stayed,” Miranda’s breath ghosted over Andy’s lips, making them tingle. "Merry Christmas" Then, Andy's lips were doing a lot more than tingling as Miranda tilted her head down and kissed her. It was warm, it was desperate and it spoke of all the love the older woman could give. Andy didn’t hesitate to return it, her heart pounding and full to nearly bursting as all her anger drained away.
When she drew back, Miranda rested her forehead against Andy’s. “Sometimes, I say things that I don’t really mean.”
Andy knew that was as much of an apology as she was ever going to get from Miranda. Even that much, coming from Miranda Priestly, was nothing less than a miracle. “I know.” An apology wasn’t enough, they would have to talk about this later, but for now Andy just wanted to revel in the fact that Miranda was back by her side. She reached up to brush away that stray piece of white hair she loved.
“Do you want,” Miranda hesitated, “to come over for Christmas?”
A broad grin split Andy’s face. “I’d love to.”
Relief fluttered across Miranda’s face for a brief moment before fading. “Good,” she said briskly. “The girls made me promise to ask you. I’d never hear the end of it if you said no.”
Andy smirked, and trailed her fingers along Miranda’s lips. “I love you too.”
Miranda’s eyes darkened to midnight blue, and her grip tightened on her waist. “I want you.”
“Oooh,” Andy caught her breath as her body responded to the promise in Miranda’s words and the fingers dancing across her back.
“I want my hands on your body,” Miranda murmured. “And your head between my legs.” She leaned into Andy’s body, pinning her hard against the pillar.
The blood in Andy’s ears roared and she clenched her thighs together, swallowing.
Miranda’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Shall we leave? Roy is waiting outside.”
“Yes. God yes.” Andy gasped.
Midnight blue eyes shone with triumph as she stepped back to release Andy’s pounding body. “Come with me, said the spider to the fly.” Miranda turned on her heel and slipped through the crowd, towards the doors.
Andy stood frozen for a moment. She saw Miranda pause at the entrance and glance back at her with a cool expression. Or, at least that’s how the rest of the world would see it. That cold expression was merely a cover, to hide the fire that burned within Miranda’s eyes. A fire that had its match inside Andy herself. Andy smirked and hurried after her lover.
Prompt:
Secret-admirer fic that takes place around Christmastime. Andy, in a relatively stable relationship with Miranda, is receiving secret admirer gifts. They could end up being from Miranda (but that’s kind of cliché) or not (better). Ending is your choice. Chocolate Santa Bonus Points for including Nate somehow (good or bad, doesn’t matter).
I couldn't quite manage to fit Nate himself in, partially because it would slow the story down and partially because I am really bad at writing from male perspectives. But I mentioned him, does that count? :)
Title: Secret Admirer
Rating: PG
19th December
Whistling the tune to ‘Feliz Navidad’ under her breath, Andy paused to allow the guards at the entrance to Elias-Clarke to buzz her through. The warmth of the building was a nice change from the frost-nipped air that had caused Andy to wear a thick, unfashionable woolen scarf on her way to work this morning. She stepped into the elevator and, as the floors ticked by, began to quickly unwind it from around her neck before any of the Runway clackers saw her. It disappeared into her oversized bag.
Andy stepped out and headed for the office. She pushed open the glass doors and came to an abrupt halt. Sitting on her desk was an enormous bouquet of brilliant red roses. Had someone mistaken her desk for Miranda’s? She looked across at Emily. “Um, Em? What’s that?”
Emily arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow in a nearly exact mimicry of Miranda. “Really Andy, I’d have thought even you would recognize roses.”
Andy flushed. “I know that. But what’s it doing on my desk?”
Emily waved a hand. “How would I know? I turned up and it was already dripping all over the floor.” She scowled at a damp patch of carpet below Andy’s desk. “Now you need to get rid of it before Miranda gets in. Roy already called, she’s on her way.”
“Right,” Andy said blankly. It took her several seconds to pull herself together enough to walk to her desk. She picked up the bouquet and was immediately enveloped in a cloud of perfume. She gripped the desk to keep her balance as the overpowering scent threatened to make her sick. Pulling her head out of range of the roses, she hunted for a card. From deep within, she tugged out a thick, cream-colored card. She read one side and then flipped it over. No signature. Only her name, typed in a simple black cursive font. Not a case of mistaken identity then. “Um.” Who the hell had sent this? Maybe Miranda…Andy’s heart skipped a beat at the thought. Miranda had never been particularly fond of grand romantic gestures, but there was always a chance...
Her head shot up as the glass doors swung open. She took one look at Miranda’s glacial expression and knew the flowers weren’t from her. Andy gulped.
“Andrea,” Miranda said slowly.
Andy winced. Not that tone of voice again. “Yes, Miranda?”
“What is that?” The editor’s voice was like ice.
“Um, nothing.” Andy cringed. “Someone left them on my desk, that’s all.”
Miranda’s lips pursed. “Are they addressed to you?”
“Um, yes?” Andy bit her bottom lip nervously.
Miranda’s eyes flashed and she strode past without another word. Her bag made a loud thunk as it crashed down on Andy’s desk, followed by the jacket. As Miranda disappeared into her inner sanctum, Andy couldn’t help but admire the way the Valentino suit clung to the editor’s body.
Her attention was dragged back as Emily rapped her desk. The first assistant made violent gestures at the flowers in her hands while glaring at Andy. Her message was clear.
Andy looked down at the rubbish bin. She couldn’t bring herself to toss the beautiful blooms into the cold metal bin, and yet she knew she couldn’t keep them either. That would be just asking for trouble, and Andy had big plans for tonight as the twins were away at their father’s house. She eyed Miranda’s door warily, and then sidled along to the glass doors. Ignoring Emily’s frantic waves, Andy slipped out the doors and headed down the corridor.
Her heels clacked as she arrived at the receptionist’s desk. “Hey, Joanna.”
The thin, blonde secretary looked up. “Oh, hey Andy.” The smile she gave Andy was vacant.
Andy glanced around and then dropped her voice. “Hey, so um, someone left these on my desk this morning.” She waved the bouquet of flowers.
“They’re gorgeous,” Joanna cooed.
Restraining from rolling her eyes, Andy continued. “And um, I don’t want them and I noticed your desk was bare. D’you want them to put on your desk? Or to take home with you tonight?”
Joanna’s face lit up. “Really? Wow, that’s really sweet of you Andy.”
Andy smiled uncomfortably. “Yeah, well.” She coughed and pushed them over the desk. “There you go, then.” She hesitated. “Just, um, don’t let Miranda see them, okay?”
“Sure thing,” Joanna chirped.
“Great,” Andy glanced down the corridor. “Gotta go.” She fairly ran back down to the office, skidding into the outside office just in time to see Emily putting away Miranda’s coat and bag.
“Where’s my Starbucks? Andrea, I need coffee.”
*~*~*
20th December
Andy hid a grimace of pain as she tried to keep from hobbling into the lift the next morning. She hadn’t felt this stiff and...uncomfortable after sex in years. But it had been worth it. A self-satisfied smirk crossed Andy’s lips at the memories of Miranda’s head disappearing between her thighs and the resulting multiple climaxes. If she hadn’t known better, she would almost say that Miranda had been trying to prove something.
She leaned against the wall as the elevator started it’s climb. It was going to be an uncomfortable day sitting at her desk, that was for certain. A yawn threatened to split her face and she covered it quickly, even though she was alone.
The elevator chimed and Andy hurried past Joanna’s desk. The flowers were gone, clearly Joanna had taken them home with her the night before. A shrill ringing echoed in the corridor and Andy winced. She took off down the corridor, praying that whoever it was wouldn’t hang up before she got there. She skidded through the glass doors and dove over the desk. “Miranda Priestly’s offiiiiiiiice!” She squeaked as she fell off the other side of the table.
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment, before someone cleared their throat. “Yes. I’m calling on behalf of Robert Frank to confirm his attendance at Runway’s Christmas party on the 24th.”
Andy blinked. Robert Frank? A year and a half of talking to the most famous people in fashion hadn’t quite prepared her for that bombshell. Frank was a recluse, well known for his refusal of invitations, so why would he attend a Christmas party of all things? And to RSVP less than a week before the event?
“Hello?”
Andy scrambled off the floor. “Right, sorry. Of course.” She fumbled on her desk for a moment and then crossed the name off on the list. “Got it. Thank you.” As she hung up the phone, Andy rubbed her sore hip from where she’d collided with the floor and glared at Emily’s empty desk.
She sat down in her chair with a sigh, and froze. Slowly, she slid a hand under her and her fingers touched something hard. She tugged it out and found herself staring at a pale blue box with the silver engraved word ‘Tiffany’ across the front. Attached was another cream card, this time with the words ‘Dearest Andy, From Your Secret Admirer’ typed in black ink.
Hesitantly, Andy slid the silver ribbon off the box. She eased the lid off and peered inside. A heavy three-strand diamond-encrusted silver necklace lay on the soft cloth bed. Andy’s jaw dropped. She’d never seen anything quite so...gaudy, or so clearly designed to show off the giver’s wealth. It was impossible to imagine anything in her wardrobe, or anyone’s wardrobe for that matter, that would go with it.
Andy eyed the horrendous thing, wondering what the hell she was going to do with it. Of course she was flattered that someone was interested in her, but not knowing his identity was starting to get a bit creepy. Nor was she used to someone spending enormous amounts of money on her. Miranda gave her gifts, of course, but Andy was uncomfortable even with that. The fact that someone she didn’t know was presenting her with Tiffany jewelry, even horrible jewelry, was too much.
But she couldn’t return it, since she didn’t know who it was from. And she definitely wasn’t ever going to wear it. Andy looked around frantically, hoping the answer would magically pop into her head. The sound of clicking heels reverberated through the office. Panicked, Andy shoved the box into the top drawer of her desk and slammed it shut.
Emily appeared in the office, already talking on the phone. She spied Andy sitting in the chair and a frown creased her forehead. She covered the mouthpiece for a moment and hissed, “She’s on her way. Go on, get moving.”
Andy slumped back against her chair, closing her eyes as she tilted her head back. Great. She was out of time. Now she just had to keep Miranda from seeing the necklace, because who knows what the temperamental editor would see it as, until she figured out what the hell to do with it.
“Andy! Move it!”
****
Andy fumbled for a few seconds before she managed to slip the key into the lock and open the door to the townhouse, shivering slightly in the cold.
“Hi Andy,” Caroline’s head appeared around the edge of the kitchen door. “We’re in here.”
“I’ll be right there.” Andy moved towards the cupboard to hang up her jacket. She shut the door and then headed for the kitchen. The smell of baked salmon drifted out as she stepped through the door. “Sorry I’m late.” She’d had to stay back at the office to deal with the last minute scramble to find a replacement model for the Texas shoot when news came in that Michelle had broken her arm and would be unavailable. She walked to the head of the table and bent to kiss Miranda’s cheek. “Miranda. Hi girls.”
“It’s all right.” Miranda gestured for her to take a seat before turning to her daughter. “Cassidy, don’t be silly, it’s all right to eat some carbs. Moderation, not starvation, is the key.”
Cassidy rolled her eyes but obediently reached for the bowl sitting in the middle of the table. Andy eyed the spread of four types of lettuce, cucumber and tomatoes sprinkled with baked salmon, but said nothing. She was getting used to the constant diet that the three Priestly females were on, and she had to admit that it was doing wonders for her own figure. “How did your presentation go today, Caroline?”
Caroline tried to hide the sparkle in her eyes with a shrug. “Fine, I guess.”
“Mrs. Foster said she did really well,” Cassidy over-rode her sister’s modesty. “An A+. She got the best grade in her class.”
“Congrats,” Andy grinned and held her hand out for a high-five.
Caroline smiled smugly, clearly pleased with herself, and slapped Andy’s hand.
Miranda rolled her eyes.
“So I guess shifting your topic from Greek to Celtic mythology worked, huh.” Andy distinctly remembered Caroline’s tears the week before as she struggled to pull together a project on Greek mythology. The romaine lettuce crunched audibly between her teeth as she bit down on the bitter leaf.
“Yup,” Caroline shrugged, seeming to forget all about her accomplishment. “Are you coming over for Christmas?”
Andy shot a look at Miranda, feeling her heart miss a beat. “Um, I’m not sure girls. We haven’t really discussed it.” She wanted to, but she wasn’t sure what Miranda’s feelings on the topic were. Their relationship was stable, but Christmas with the family was a huge thing.
Cassidy pouted. “Come on Andy. It’s Christmas.”
“And you’re practically family already,” Cassidy wheedled.
Andy laughed, a little uncomfortably. “I’ll think about it.”
Cassidy looked at her with big puppy eyes that made Andy’s heart melt. “Promise?”
“I promise.”
Caroline seemed to consider it settled. “Good. Oh! Cass, have you got your Berry lip-gloss from Bobbi? I think I left mine at Dad’s last weekend and I want to wear it tomorrow.”
Andy watched Miranda out of the corner of her eye as the twins continued their own conversation. The editor was being very quiet, letting her children and lover dominate the conversation. She was dying to ask if something was wrong, but Andy knew better than to do that in front of the twins.
Nearly ten minutes later, the twins’ plates were empty. Caroline looked up at her mother. “Can we go?”
Miranda nodded, pushing her chair back out from the table slightly. “Do you have homework, girls?”
“Mum!” Caroline groaned as Cassidy tugged her out of her seat. The two disappeared out the door, no doubt headed to their rooms to finish their homework and surf the internet.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Andy got out of her seat and crossed the length of the table in three strides. She straddled Miranda, linking her hands behind the editor’s neck. “Hi love.”
Miranda’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Hi.”
Andy paused in the act of leaning in for a kiss. “Miranda? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Miranda’s words were brusque and Andy flinched slightly. Miranda caught the movement and her voice softened, “Sorry. It’s...been a long day.”
Andy leaned back, staring down into her lover’s eyes. She was lying. Runway hadn’t been any more stressful than normal, and as the assistant she’d been the one fielding most of the last minute panics that Miranda never learnt about. Something else was bothering her and Andy didn’t have a clue what it was.
“I’m fine, Andrea,” Miranda repeated, clearly sensing Andy’s disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
Andy bit her lip for a moment and then decided to let it go. Even if she pushed, she doubted she’d be able to get anything more from her. Miranda would deal with whatever it was in her own time, as she always did. It was something that both amused and frustrated Andy; Miranda’s fierce independence. “All right.”
“Now come here,” Miranda tugged her head down to meet her own. Andy closed her eyes, losing herself in the familiar sensation of Miranda’s hot mouth against her own.
*~*~*
21st December
Andy slid out of the king sized bed, careful not to disturb the still slumbering Miranda. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she yawned. She gazed down at the figure in the bed. The sleeping woman barely resembled the Miranda Priestly of Runway that the world knew. Lines that were normally hidden by make-up were visible on her face and neck, but her entire face was relaxed as though the stress and pressure of life as the queen of fashion melted away in her sleep. She was beautiful. Even six months after the beginning of their unlikely relationship, Andy could barely believe that this was happening to her.
With one final glance at her lover, Andy reached for her clothes and began to shimmy into them. Last night hadn’t been a planned sleep over, so she didn’t have any clothes to wear to work. She’d have to hurry home to shower and change before heading to Runway. Patting her hair into some semblance of order, Andy leaned over the bed and brushed a kiss across Miranda’s cheek.
Miranda stirred, her eyes opening blearily. “Andrea?”
“Shh,” Andy pressed her fingers against Miranda’s lips. “I’m going back to my house to change. I’ll see you at Runway.” Miranda nodded sleepily, her eyes already drooping shut. Andy smiled fondly for one last moment before turning and padding out the door.
She let herself out of the townhouse into the predawn darkness of New York City, and covered a yawn. She deliberated with herself for a moment, and then decided she was too sleepy to take the subway. It took several minutes for her to hail a cab and every moment increased her chances of being spotted by Miranda’s neighbors, but as she leaned her head against the headrest with the cab pulling into the early morning traffic, she couldn’t bring herself to care.
An hour later, Andy was in another cab on her way to Runway. Traffic had picked up so the cab was crawling along the road towards the Elias-Clarke building. “Come on...” she glanced at her watch. She was running late. Emily would already be there and Andy was supposed to have been there thirty minutes ago. But first her hot water wouldn’t work, then her shirt was creased and she’d had to iron it. Then she’d managed to burn a hole in the very expensive Chloe shirt and had to scramble to find a new top that would go with her pants. And now the traffic was horrendous and it’d taken her fifteen minutes to get this far. She sighed. Sometimes, being fashionable was far more hassle than it was worth. Her phone rang. “Hello?”
“Andy!” Emily barked. “Where are you?”
“I’m on my way,” Andy glanced at the building looming in the distance. “Give me ten minutes.”
“Miranda will be here in five and she wants her coffee.” Emily didn’t bother to say goodbye before she hung up.
“Shit,” Andy peered out the window at the traffic, which was nearly at a standstill, and then at the Starbucks further down the road. She was Miranda’s lover, but that didn’t save her bacon at work. There, Miranda was no different to the tyrant she’d been before they’d gotten involved. Worse even, as though trying to ensure she couldn’t be accused of favoritism. But then, Andy thought dryly, there was no-one to accuse her of it. Only Nigel knew about their relationship, and he’d only discovered it accidentally. None of Andy’s friends knew, even Lily and Doug, and certainly no-one at Runway.
She tapped the cab driver on the shoulder. “This is fine. Thanks.” She shoved cash into his hand and then slid out the door. She ignored the honks of the cars as she weaved her way through them, tottering in her stiletto boots. By the time she reached Starbucks, her ankles were trembling. She caught her breath as she waited for her order to get through. Her phone went off again. She scrambled for it and was still breathless when she answered. “Yes?”
“She’s here,” Emily hissed. “Where the hell are you?” In the background, Miranda’s voice was muffled but her angry tone was quite clear. The editor was telling someone off within minutes of walking in, which didn’t bode well for the rest of the day. What was she doing there anyway? She was supposed to be at a meeting with a couple of designers from Gucci.
“At Starbucks,” Andy gratefully accepted the styrofoam cups and hurried for the door. Balancing the phone between her shoulder and her ear, she pulled open the door and began her mad dash to Elias-Clarke.
“Well hurry up!” Emily hung up again without saying goodbye.
Rolling her eyes, Andy fled towards Elias-Clarke. She stumbled through the turnstiles that a frantic guard buzzed open for her, and then sagged against the lift wall. The lift beeped its arrival on the Runway floor, and Andy straightened, still trying to regulate her heavy breathing.
One of the Accessories assistants was standing by the lift when it opened, her eyes red and swollen and tear tracks marring her skin. She glared at Andy, the effect of which was mitigated as she sniffed. “Go! She’s a nightmare.”
Well, at least Miranda hadn’t fired the poor girl. If she had there would have been more tears and shouting. Andy hurried down the corridor, pausing only to nudge open the glass doors.
Emily’s head snapped up and a strange combination of fury and relief passed over her face as she gestured furiously towards the open door into the inner office.
Andy stepped into the office warily. Her gaze went straight to the editor, who was standing near the window and looking limply out into the grey sky. Andy felt a rush of sympathy for the exhausted looking editor. She looked like Andy had felt after the Chicago flight incident last year, and it was only eight in the morning. “Miranda?”
Miranda didn’t respond.
After a quick glance back at Emily, Andy pushed shut the door quietly. “Hey.” She crossed the room to stand beside Miranda. She pressed the burning hot cup of coffee into Miranda’s hand and rested her palm on Miranda’s shoulder tentatively, unsure if Miranda was going to accept her comfort here. “You okay?”
“Those incompetents managed to lose nearly ten thousand dollars worth of accessories on the Hawaii shoot,” Miranda sipped from the coffee without turning away from the window.
Andy winced. Irv was not going to take that well.
“Tim’s been hospitalized from a car accident, so we don’t have anyone on the Prague shoot,” Miranda’s hands clenched on the cup, her knuckles turning white. “And two of the Fashion assistants have applied for maternity leave.”
Andy rubbed her back soothingly.
Miranda was still for a single, exhausted moment. Then the familiar cloak of power seemed to settle on her shoulders as she straightened and her face smoothed into its normal cold and calm expression. She didn’t look at Andy. “I’m going to visit the Art department in five minutes. That’s all.”
Andy hid the sharp pain in her heart as she turned away and hurried out of the room. She scolded herself. This was Miranda’s style, she treated everyone brusquely and never admitted to weakness at work. Although her head knew that, Andy’s heart flinched every time her lover snapped at her.
Emily, on her phone with one of the designers, looked up as Andy slid into her seat and raised an eyebrow pointedly and glanced at the formerly closed door. Andy shrugged, and bent to turn on her computer. While she was waiting for it to load, she reached for the phone and dialed the art department. “Hi, Janine.” The former art director had moved to Runway Italia the month before and Janine, from Vogue, had replaced her. “She’s coming down.”
On the other end, Janine squeaked and hung up without saying goodbye. Andy shook her head in amusement and set the phone back in it’s cradle. Almost instantly it rang. “Miranda Priestly’s office.” She reached for a pen and a pad of paper, paused and then tugged a stylish black folder towards her from one corner of her desk. “Hi, Natalie. Yes, we got your proposed menu. It looks great.” It was three days before the Runway Christmas gala and Natalie was confirming about the sixth different menu that she’d put together for Miranda. The other five had been rejected.
A flash of black and white swept through Andy’s peripheral vision as Miranda left the office at a brisk walk. She flipped through the folder, glancing at the page of notes she’d made the day before. “Just one change. She doesn’t like the wine for the desert. Could you get something else instead? Okay, thanks. Bye.”
Setting the phone down, Andy swiveled to face her computer and clicked on the internet browser.
A hand appeared under her nose, holding a small pale blue box and a cream envelope.
Andy looked up at Emily in surprise. “Em?”
Emily looked irritated. “It was on your desk when I arrived this morning.” She scowled. “After seeing Miranda’s reaction to the flowers two days ago, I decided to save both of us and hide it.”
“Thanks,” Andy’s numb fingers closed around the box. She’d almost forgotten about her secret admirer.
Emily sniffed. “Just get your boyfriend to stop sending them here, before we both lose our jobs!”
“It’s not my boyfriend,” Andy retorted. Emily raised an eyebrow in a disturbing mimicry of Miranda, and retreated to her desk.
Andy eyed the package in her hands with a sinking feeling. Whoever it was wasn’t giving up easily. Slowly, she pulled open the blue box, and cringed. Inside were garish, but expensive, earrings that perfectly matched the horrible necklace from the day before. Swallowing, she covered the box back up.
The phone rang, but before she could get to it, Emily was answering.
She flipped the envelope over, eyeing the wax seal with disbelief. Who used wax seals in this day and age? She cracked the seal and tugged out a cream card, vaguely hearing the door swing open. Her jaw dropped .
Be my date to the Runway gala?
It was still unsigned. Andy could barely believe her eyes. The gala was one of the highlights of the social season. Designers, businessmen, fashionistas and editors from across the world attended it every year. It was not for the likes of her, except in her capacity as Miranda’s assistant. Who the hell had the guts to try to invite her as a guest?
“What’s that?” Nigel’s voice intruded as he plucked the card out of her hands. He raised an eyebrow at it, and then looked up at her with a visible question in his eyes.
Andy spread her hands. “No idea who it came from.”
Nigel handed the card back to her with a significant look. “If I were you, I’d get rid of that quick.” He threw a look over his shoulder at Emily, who was still on the phone. “Someone might get a little edgy.”
Andy nodded. “Believe me. I know.” She thought back to Miranda’s reaction when the flowers turned and shivered.
“Hm,” Nigel glanced down at his watch. “When will she get back?”
“She’s down in the Art department,” Andy shrugged.
Nigel sighed. “So whenever she gets fed up with their incompetence then.” He hopped onto the edge of the desk. “So, what’s this about the card?”
Andy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “No idea. I got flowers two days ago and a necklace yesterday, and now this.”
“How flattering,” Nigel commented. “Can I see?” He transferred the card to the other hand and gestured at the Tiffany box.
Andy waved him on. “Go ahead.”
He lifted the box off the table and opened it. His eyes popped. “Oh my god!” He touched one of the bejeweled dangling earrings.
There was a crash as the glass door flew open and nearly bounced off the wall. Nigel jumped in surprise, both the card and box falling from his hands in a clatter. Andy’s face drained of blood as Miranda’s gaze landed on the earrings and the clearly distinguishable words engraved on the card.
An indecipherable look swept across Miranda’s face before it vanished and Miranda walked into her office without another word.
“Shit, shit, shit,” Andy cursed under her breath as she sprang to collect the errant presents.
Emily glared at her, clearly unhappy. She hadn’t missed the iciness that had descended upon Miranda and they both knew that Miranda was going to be worse than ever.
“Emily, can I borrow you for a sec? I need to talk to you about the Accessories department.” Nigel stepped forward.
“Um…” Emily glanced towards the open doorway to Miranda’s inner sanctum.
“Andy will mind the phones,” Nigel coaxed. “Come on.”
“All right,” Emily conceded. “But quickly.”
“Of course,” Nigel steered the assistant towards the glass doors, throwing a significant look over his shoulder at Andy.
As the door swung shut behind them, Andy swallowed and eyed the doors. Time to face the music. Putting the jewelry back down on her desk, she headed for the office.
“Get out.”
Andy froze.
The editor hadn’t even looked up from her laptop. “Did you not hear me, Emily? I said, get out.”
Emily? Andy felt shock mixed with anger bubble up inside her. Miranda hadn’t called her Emily in well over a year, and she had no damn right to start now! With an effort, she clamped down on the feeling. Miranda was just being Miranda. “No.”
Miranda’s head shot up, her eyes like daggers and her voice glacial, “Excuse me?”
“I said no, Miranda,” Andy was careful to keep her voice low. “We are going to talk about this, and talk about it now.”
“Talk about what, Andrea?” Miranda hissed. “About how you flaunt your boyfriend in front me, in my own office!”
Andy couldn’t help but feel startled. She’d never seen Miranda lose her cool this quickly. Of course, they’d fought before, but Miranda had never reacted quite like this. “Miranda, please.” She cast a wary eye over her shoulder at the glass doors. “Don’t be mad. I don’t know who they’re from, okay?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Miranda didn’t look up.
Andy continued as though Miranda hadn’t spoken. “They’ve just been appearing on my desk and I don’t know where they came from or how to stop them.”
Miranda typed away at her computer without answering.
Andy leaned across the desk. “Miranda.”
At last, the editor looked up, her gaze cold.
“I know you’re upset about the gifts I’ve been getting, but I honestly don’t want them.” Andy hoped Miranda believed her, because she didn’t know how to convince her otherwise.
Miranda regarded her for a long moment and then looked back down at her desk. “Get Patrick on the phone and bring forward my meeting with the boys at Gucci to 1 pm.” Her voice was crisp, but it’d lost the hard and cutting edge that it’d had before. “That’s all.”
Andy heaved a sigh of relief. “Yes, Miranda.” She turned on her heel to leave the room, and reached for the handle.
“Andrea,” Miranda’s voice interrupted her.
Andy turned around.
“Get rid of that invitation.”
“Yes, Miranda.” Andy already had plans to do just that, and hopefully get rid of this admirer too.
The editor was watching her now. “I love you.”
Andy smiled. “I love you too.” She opened the door and hurried back to her desk. She had call Gucci and move up the meeting, write her rejection on the back of the invitation and find somewhere to leave it, and then go track down Miranda’s coffee. Then, hopefully, things would be back to normal.
*~*~*
22nd December
Andy jabbed at the keyboard in front of her and scowled. “Arrogant, self-centered, inconsiderate bitch.” It was a good thing that Emily was out at lunch or Andy would’ve had to listen to a lecture about being more understanding of Miranda’s needs and difficult position.
“Whoa, Six,” a dry voice drawled. “What has she done to deserve that many adjectives?”
Andy looked up at Nigel’s amused face and then glared at the glass doors that Miranda had disappeared through on her way to Marc Jacob’s. She sighed, the anger draining from her body. “She’s being Miranda.”
Nigel tilted his head, “Hmm?”
“I got another anonymous gift this morning,” Andy scowled at the drawer which held the persistent swain’s latest offering. “And Miranda’s been acting like a bitch ever since.” She’d thought they’d sorted the whole thing out yesterday, but apparently not. All it had taken was one look at the latest present, a formal Valentino gown, in Andy’s hands, for Miranda to fall back into her snit and alternately snap at and ignore Andy.
“Poor Andy,” Nigel mocked. “Not all is happy on the domestic front, huh?” He grinned broadly, clearly finding it amusing.
Andy glared at him half-heartedly. “Friends aren’t supposed to revel in other friends unhappiness.” She really was worried about what was going to happen to her and Miranda. The editor had this habit of blowing everything out of proportion and Andy had a sinking feeling about this one. She’d never seen Miranda acting quite like this before.
Nigel arranged his face in an appropriately contrite expression. “I’m sorry.” He smirked again. “You remember when I said that when your personal life went to hell, it was time for a promotion? Somehow, I don’t think that applies here.”
“Ha ha.” Andy opened her mouth to say more but was interrupted by the shrill sound of her cellphone. She held a hand up to pause her conversation with Nigel. “Andy Sachs here.”
“Hey Andy,” Lily’s cheerful voice greeted her.
“Hi Lily.” Andy glanced at her watch in surprise. Lily was supposed to be at the art gallery at the moment, so why was she calling Andy? “I can’t chat. I’m at Runway.”
“Yeah yeah.” Andy could hear the eye roll in her voice. “So, anyway, I just got a call from Nate.”
Andy felt a chill go down her spine. She hadn’t spoken to her ex-boyfriend since he left for Boston. Neither Doug or Lily spoke about him around Andy as a sort of unspoken pact. “From Nate?” She saw Nigel lean in closer.
“Yeah. And guess what?”
“What?”
“He wants to get together for dinner!” Lily said triumphantly. “You, me and Doug.”
“Really?” Andy said weakly, her thoughts whirling.
“Yeah. Tonight. 7 o’clock. At that pizzeria he loves.” Lily’s enthusiasm was clear. “So, you free?”
“I don’t thi...” Andy cut herself off. She would have to face Nate again at some point. She couldn’t keep avoiding him like this, and making things uncomfortable for her friends whenever he was brought up. Miranda won’t like it, a little voice reminded her. Andy’s stomach twisted. This could give Miranda another reason to break off their relationship. But Miranda was sulking and acting like a spoilt child at the moment. In fact, her behavior reminded Andy very much of Cassidy’s last month when the kid had gotten the blue Prada purse instead of the pink one that Caroline had received. Screw Miranda, Andy decided, overruling the small voice inside her head. “Sure, I can make it.”
“Great! Oh, and after dinner we’re going to go out for drinks.” Lily’s voice lowered. “And Andy, try not to be late.”
Andy winced at the reminder of her eternal tardiness. “I’ll be there,” she promised. “Seven o’clock, tonight, outside the pizzeria. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Andy laid the phone down, already wondering if that had been such a good idea. But she couldn’t change her mind now. She looked up at Nigel, almost daring him to object.
He held up his hands. “It’s none of my business how much you like baiting the Devil.” He paused. “But, as the fashion director, I have to ask. How are you going to deliver the Book tonight then?”
Andy’s eyes widened. She’d completely forgotten about that. “Shit!” She cast around frantically. It was one thing to make a point to Miranda in their personal lives, but it was entirely another for her not to do her job. Her gaze landed on Emily’s empty chair. “I’ll get Emily to do it.” She heaved a sigh of relief and sagged against her chair. “She owes me one for covering her butt last month.”
“Oh?” Nigel looked intrigued. “Do tell.”
“Nuh uh,” Andy wagged a finger. “That’s my secret with Em.”
“Spoilsport,” Nigel pouted.
The sound of click-clacking heels echoed down the hallway, and Nigel straightened. “I must be off. Photography screwed up again. If Miranda sees it, we’ll find ourselves without a Photography department.”
Andy rolled her eyes. “Oh goodie.”
Nigel swept out of the glass doors just as Emily’s size 0 figure appeared. Andy eyed her waif-like appearance and shook her head. No doubt Em’s lunch had consisted of two pieces of lettuce and a glass of water now that she was off that ridiculous cheese diet. “Hey, Em, I have a favor to ask...”
*~*~*
23rd December
Her head ached. It felt like someone was jumping up and down on a child’s bouncy castle inside her skull. Even the innocent sound of the elevator was enough to make her wince and her stomach rebel. Her enormous tinted Prada sunglasses provided some protection against the harsh light, but not enough to make it comfortable in the fluorescent lighting of Elias Clarke.
Andy sagged against the elevator wall as it carried her upwards. She groaned, holding her throbbing head. This was the price for the night of drinking the night before. She’d gone out with her friends, but guilt and worry over her relationship with Miranda had spoiled her enjoyment of it. Her memory started to get hazy at around ten pm, after she’d pleaded tiredness to her friends and gone back to her apartment to nurse a bottle of vodka and cry. How the hell had she been so irresponsible as to get herself drunk on a workday? She needed to be on top of her game at Runway, and a hangover wasn’t going to be any help. Miranda was going to kill her. Andy moaned as the doors slid open, the sound of metal against metal tormenting her ears.
She stepped through the glass doors into the outer office and stopped dead. “Oh great. Today is getting better and better.” Even the sound of her own voice was grating on her raw nerve endings. She glared at the wrapped gift on the desk. Whoever the mysterious sender was, he was not taking no for an answer. Even though she’d left the invitation on her desk two days before with a firm ‘no’ written beneath it, and she knew he’d received it because it was gone from the desk the next morning and she’d left after all the cleaning crew had gone and arrived yesterday before anyone else had turned up, he was still sending her gifts.
Emily’s voice penetrated the foggy cloud of pain in Andy’s head, “especially as you are...thirty-five minutes late.”
Andy flinched and glanced down at her watch. Sure enough, it read 7:35. “Sorry.” She stumbled to her desk and shoved the unopened gift into her desk. No sense in making her day even worse and pissing off Miranda when she arrived. She collapsed into the chair, hoping that the Tylenol she’d downed in the cab was going to kick in soon.
“Andrea,” the summons came from inside the office.
Andy froze. Oh shit. Miranda was already here. She’d already seen the box on the desk.
“Andrea,” Miranda repeated, sounding impatient.
Andy forced herself to respond, despite her body’s pleas for her to stay sat until the painkiller worked. She dragged herself into the office. “Yes, Miranda?” She tried not to flinch, determined not to let Miranda know that she had a hangover.
“Call Janet and push the meeting back to three o’clock,” Miranda didn’t look up from her laptop. “Tell Isabella that if she doesn’t come up with a better location for Caroline and Cassidy’s birthdays by midday, she’s fired. I need an appropriate present for one of Caroline’s friends tomorrow, I trust you to find something. Get me Patrick....”
It took several seconds for Andy’s brain to register that Miranda’s voice had trailed off. only to find the editor pinning her with a searching look. A cool expression crossed the editor’s face. “Andrea.”
Oh no. “Yes, Miranda?” Andrea swallowed.
“Why are you wearing sunglasses? Surely even your incompetence registers the fact that you are, in fact, inside?” Miranda’s sneer was firmly in place. “Or did you perhaps think we were meeting on the beach in Hawaii? Do you wish you were there instead of here?”
“Uh, no Miranda.” Andy yanked the sunglasses off her face, praying that her make-up was holding up and disguising the dark circles beneath her eyes. She vaguely registered that Miranda’s voice had stopped hurting her ears, so the Tylenol had kicked in. But that fact faded in importance compared to the fact she was about to be fired.
As she waited for Miranda’s sentence to descend on her, a horrifying new thought occurred to her. She distantly remembered calling Miranda at some point last night to tell her that she was out with Nate. In the cool light of the morning, with fresh objectivity, she could see that maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to push Miranda by going out with Nate while their own relationship was on rocky grounds. The fact that she was about to be fired was suddenly insignificant. Was Miranda about to end whatever it was between them?
Miranda tapped her lips with her pen without her gaze wavering from its scrutiny of Andy’s face. “Andrea. Shut the door.”
Andy forced her leaden feet to carry her to the door and then back to the desk in front of Miranda.
“My employees do not come to work with a hangover,” Miranda’s voice was quiet. “Or they do not come back ever again. I expected better of you, Andrea. You’re a professional, and I expected you to act like it.”
Andy cringed inwardly, feeling her heart plummet. The cool disappointment in Miranda’s tone cut her more deeply than shouting ever could. She hated disappointing anyone, especially Miranda. It was worse than just disappointing her boss, because as much as Andy tried not to, she couldn’t separate her lover from the Miranda Priestly of Runway. When Miranda dressed her down, it was a double whammy.
“I should fire you this instant,” Miranda’s hand tightened on the armrest of her chair.
Andy swallowed, waiting.
“But I won’t,” Miranda’s lips twisted in a bitter smile. “Even after all you’ve done to hurt me, Andrea, I can’t bring myself to hurt you.”
Righteous anger flared up inside Andy, overwhelming the sense of shame that had ruled until now. “To hurt you, Miranda?” she lashed out. “What about what you’ve done to hurt me?”
Miranda’s eyes flashed with something that looked like surprise.
Andy didn’t give her a chance to open her mouth as she rushed on. “You’ve been punishing me for presents that some random other person is giving to me, even though you know that I don’t want them and I’ve tried to get rid of them. That hurts me, you know, that you jump to conclusions and don’t listen to me.”
“Andrea,” Miranda began.
Andy barreled on as if Miranda hadn’t spoken. “And you accused me of flaunting a boyfriend. I don’t have a boyfriend, Miranda. I’m in love with you, not anyone else.” Tears prickled in Andy’s eyes and she blinked them away. “You want to know why I’ve got a hang-over this morning, Miranda? It’s because I went back to my apartment last night and drank myself unconscious, trying to forget the heartache that you’ve been putting me through ever since I got that first damned gift.” By now the tears were trailing down her cheeks, and Andy suddenly couldn’t face her lover for a moment more. Without another word, Andy spun on her heel and fled the office.
Emily looked up in surprise, her eyes wide as she took in Andy’s tear and mascara-streaked face. She eyed Andy for a long moment, before sighing. “You’d better take twenty minutes to calm yourself down and fix your make-up. You look absolutely horrendous.”
A choked laugh bubbled out of Andy’s chest as she gave Emily a thankful look. Despite two years working in the harsh and demanding fashion world, Emily sometimes surprised Andy by showing a glimpse of human compassion.
“Go, go,” Emily waved her hand. “I’ll cover things here.” She half-heartedly glared at Andy. “God knows what Miranda would say if she came out and saw you looking like that.”
Andy blinked back another flood of tears and hurried away before Emily changed her mind.
*~*~*
24th December
Just after nine thirty, Andy stepped out of the black Town Car. The gala was already in full swing but as Miranda wasn’t due for arrival till nine forty-five, Andy had chosen to arrive over an hour late. Emily, on the other hand, had been here for hours. The first assistant had been responsible for throwing this whole thing together, and coupled with Emily’s high-strung nature, that meant Emily was freaking out about it.
Andy hurried up the steps and skirted the red-carpet. A lone photographer snapped a picture of her, but the rest of the reporters ignored her. That was fine by Andy, as it meant she was more quickly out of the cold and inside the warm building. Her strapless dark grey Chloe dress bared her shoulders and arms, and even the light wrap she’d thrown over the top wasn’t doing much to keep out the winter chill.
Once inside, Andy looked around for Emily’s distinctive figure. She found the Brit freaking out at one of the poor waiters, who looked scared shitless. Damage control time. “Hey, Em. Can I help with anything?”
Emily whirled. “Andy? Oh god,” she wailed. “Everything is going wrong!”
Andy noticed the waiter taking the opportunity to edge out of range and smothered a smile. “What’s happened?”
“The band is late,” Emily wrung her hands, “and those hopeless waiters have misplaced the best wine! And...”
Andy tuned her off as she eyed the mingling guests, each one dressed to the nines in evening gowns and tuxedos. Miranda hadn’t made her entrance yet, of course. That would happen in about ten minutes and then Miranda would linger for exactly an hour before making her escape.
Andy’s attention was caught by the slightly inebriated form of Irv Ravitz, whose arm was around the waist of a tall, blonde model. Andy’s eyebrows rose as she turned, sure that she’d spotted his wife somewhere. Sure enough, Mrs. Ravitz was standing not too far away, in conversation with Donatella Versace. Andy forced her eyebrows down and she continued scanning the room. The chairman’s screwed up love life was none of her business.
“Oooh.” Emily gripped her arm, hard. “She’s here.”
Andy turned and caught her breath. Miranda’s floor-length black gown, designed by Chanel as Andy recalled, gleamed in the soft light and set off the milky white skin of her throat. Diamonds shimmered in her ears and around her neck, reflecting the light in rays around her. Miranda floated down the stairs on four-inch black Manolo heels, her gaze zeroing in on her two assistants.
“Come on,” Emily hissed as she nearly scrambled through the crowd to reach Miranda’s side.
Miranda’s gaze narrowed as they approached. She gave them each a once-over, and then turned to Andy. “Andrea, I don’t need you. I’m sure Emily will do satisfactorily.” She sniffed, as though not quite convinced.
Andy blinked. “O..okay.” She hadn’t anticipated that. Was Miranda still pissed off at her? “Um, shall I go home then?” The last two days had been pure torture at the office, with Miranda going out of her way to avoid addressing Andy. But for Miranda to make it impossible for Andy to actually do her job?
Miranda sniffed. “Do whatever you want, Andrea. Or are you incapable of making a decision on your own?”
Andy flinched from the cutting words. But as she looked up, she met Miranda’s eyes. There was something in her eyes, that in anyone else Andy would have interpreted as pleading. Andy shook her head, obviously she was imagining things. “I’ll see you on Monday, Miranda. Emily.”
Miranda gave a brusque nod and walked off, Emily hot on her heels.
Andy watched them go. She’d stay until Miranda left, but after that, she was determined to sort out what was happening with Miranda. In the meantime, maybe a glass of champagne or three would dull the pain in her heart.
She swiped a glass from a waiter and retreated into a corner to nurse it. Scanning the room, she looked for Nigel. Maybe she’d go and hang out with him until Miranda left. But when she found him, he was deep in conversation with two men she didn’t recognize. Andy didn’t have the guts to go and interrupt them, so she stayed where she was, counting down the minutes.
Someone cleared their throat nearby, and Andy jumped. She turned to face the person, and found herself face to face with the CEO of Elias-Clarke. “Mr. Ravitz.” Andy struggled to compose herself, unsure of what the man wanted. The only times she ever spoke to him were when she was passing on messages to or from Miranda.
“Please, call me Irv,” he gave her a smile as he patted her arm.
Andy pulled back her arm unobtrusively and said nothing.
He didn’t seem to notice. “You look very beautiful tonight,” he observed, scanning her figure. Something that resembled disappointment flashed in his eyes, but Andy dismissed it.
“Thank you,” she returned politely. What game was he playing? She was no-one important, he didn’t need to flatter and pay attention to her. Unless, and her heart stopped at the thought, he’d figured out that Andy and Miranda were involved. Was he building up to firing her? Or trying to use her against Miranda?
“Would you like to dance?” He held out his hand.
Her mouth dropped open inelegantly and she stared at him. “What?”
“Would you like to dance?” he repeated, a smiling dancing on his lips.
To dance with him? Comprehension hit her like a bolt of lightning. Everything was falling into place. The gifts appearing on her desk before anyone came into Runway each morning, the overwhelming expense, the incredibly bad taste, and the balls to invite Miranda’s assistant to Miranda’s own party. “It was you,” she breathed. “The gifts, the invitation...” The disappointment must have been because he’d hoped she would wear his gifts to the gala.
Irv reached out to pat her arm again. “Yes.” He looked into her eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Andrea. You have so much more promise than a mere assistant. And I’m a powerful, lonely man. Maybe I could...help you?”
Andy tried not to be sick. She knew that men of his status had affairs all the time, but couldn’t he have the decency to be subtle about it? His wife and girlfriend were both in the room and he was hitting on her? Poorly too. “I’m flattered, but I’m quite happy with Miranda.” In both senses of the word, she added silently. But then she remembered that technically this man was her boss and she needed to be polite, and smiled charmingly. “I would not be good enough for you, Mr. Ravitz. I’m just a poor, country girl trying to make her way in the big world.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Irv patted her arm a third time.
More like pawed, Andy thought darkly.
Irv continued, “I’ve watched you with Miranda. You’re elegant, graceful and definitely talented if you can survive this long with her.”
An idea occurred to her. She took a step sideways and deliberately tripped, catching herself against the wall. “Whoops. Clumsy me.” She giggled. “I’m always tripping over things when I wear high heels.” Inwardly, Andy cringed. She sounded just like the empty-headed bimbos she’d always despised. But it was the only way she could think of to convince Irv that she wasn’t right for him. He wanted graceful and elegant, she would give him clumsy and air-head.
“I see,” Irv said slowly, eyeing her. “Well, I have to go...I have to see someone.” With that he quickly backed away and disappeared into the crowd. Andy sagged against the wall with a relieved sigh. Okay, it wasn’t perfect because now her boss thought she was dumb, but at least he was gone and wouldn’t be bothering her for a while.
“Very smooth,” Nigel murmured, appearing by her side. An amused expression was fixed on his face as he handed her a glass of some haphazard mixture of alcohol. “You look like you could use a drink.”
“Thanks,” Andy accepted it with a grateful smile, and shuddered. “God, after that experience, I need the whole bar.” As she downed the drink, Andy didn’t see the blue eyes fastened on her from across the room.
****
Andy leaned against the wall, half-hidden by the tall potted plant and the marble column. From out in the ballroom, no-one would be able to see her. She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, but yanked it down as soon as she remembered her make-up. She didn’t want to smudge that. A sigh escaped her lips as she glanced at her watch. It was two minutes to midnight. She hadn’t expected to have to stay this late on Christmas Eve of all evenings. Her plan had been to linger for the hour that Miranda was here, and then to make it to the townhouse and hopefully patch up this rift between them. But then Miranda had spoiled her plans but staying not for one hour, but coming up on two and a half hours. Admittedly, it looked like she’d been waylaid by Irv at the hour mark and ordered back in, but Andy wasn’t feeling very charitable at the moment.
She checked her watch again. One minute to midnight. She jumped, as a slender hand slid around her waist, twisting her around. As she stared up into ice-blue eyes, Andy dimly heard the clock chime midnight.
“I'm glad you stayed,” Miranda’s breath ghosted over Andy’s lips, making them tingle. "Merry Christmas" Then, Andy's lips were doing a lot more than tingling as Miranda tilted her head down and kissed her. It was warm, it was desperate and it spoke of all the love the older woman could give. Andy didn’t hesitate to return it, her heart pounding and full to nearly bursting as all her anger drained away.
When she drew back, Miranda rested her forehead against Andy’s. “Sometimes, I say things that I don’t really mean.”
Andy knew that was as much of an apology as she was ever going to get from Miranda. Even that much, coming from Miranda Priestly, was nothing less than a miracle. “I know.” An apology wasn’t enough, they would have to talk about this later, but for now Andy just wanted to revel in the fact that Miranda was back by her side. She reached up to brush away that stray piece of white hair she loved.
“Do you want,” Miranda hesitated, “to come over for Christmas?”
A broad grin split Andy’s face. “I’d love to.”
Relief fluttered across Miranda’s face for a brief moment before fading. “Good,” she said briskly. “The girls made me promise to ask you. I’d never hear the end of it if you said no.”
Andy smirked, and trailed her fingers along Miranda’s lips. “I love you too.”
Miranda’s eyes darkened to midnight blue, and her grip tightened on her waist. “I want you.”
“Oooh,” Andy caught her breath as her body responded to the promise in Miranda’s words and the fingers dancing across her back.
“I want my hands on your body,” Miranda murmured. “And your head between my legs.” She leaned into Andy’s body, pinning her hard against the pillar.
The blood in Andy’s ears roared and she clenched her thighs together, swallowing.
Miranda’s lips curved in a knowing smile. “Shall we leave? Roy is waiting outside.”
“Yes. God yes.” Andy gasped.
Midnight blue eyes shone with triumph as she stepped back to release Andy’s pounding body. “Come with me, said the spider to the fly.” Miranda turned on her heel and slipped through the crowd, towards the doors.
Andy stood frozen for a moment. She saw Miranda pause at the entrance and glance back at her with a cool expression. Or, at least that’s how the rest of the world would see it. That cold expression was merely a cover, to hide the fire that burned within Miranda’s eyes. A fire that had its match inside Andy herself. Andy smirked and hurried after her lover.