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Christian Thompson spotted her from across the room, looking around before slipping out onto the balcony. He hadn’t seen her since Paris, but he’d heard the rumblings and the rumors, that she’d quit, or was fired, but whatever the truth was Andy Sachs was a Miranda-girl no more.
Throwing back the rest of his drink, Christian moved to follow with a little smile pulling at his lips. Perhaps absence made the heart grow fonder.
The night air was crisp, the lights of the city sparkling beyond the railing, but Christian wasn’t looking at the view. Instead, Andy’s giggle caught his attention. Tucked in the corner of the balcony, he saw her, her gown shimmering in the low light. Christian’s eyes widened when he spotted her, back to him, with none other than Miranda Priestly’s arms wrapped around her.
Andy made a little noise of pleasure as Miranda kissed her, making Miranda murmur, “Quiet darling.”
Christian stood frozen as the fashion editor's piercing gaze lifted to meet his own. Her lips curved into a rare smile, hand tightening possessively around Andy’s waist. Without breaking eye contact Miranda kissed the column of Andy’s throat, just below her ear, drawing out a whimper.
Pulling back, she looked at Andy, “My aren’t you flush. Perhaps you’re coming down with something.”
“Just a case of ridiculously horny.”
“Really Andrea,” Miranda admonished before leaning in to kiss her.
Christian slipped back into the party, receiving the message loud and clear, once a Miranda-girl, always a Miranda-girl.