The Boss (The Boss 1)

“Sorry,” I muttered, covering my mouth in shame.

“It’s all right, Sophie. Sorry.” India pinched the bridge of her nose, her dark brows drawing down, her eyes squeezing shut tight. “It’s a new mandate from on high; we’re not to feature products from any company that tests on animals or uses ingredients manufactured by companies that test on animals.”

Jessica made a kind of strangled noise. “B-but that means no Esteé Lauder, no Bobbi Brown, Clinique, MAC, Fekkai...”

“And no one owned by any of the corporations like Proctor & Gamble, which means your perfume profile is a bust.” India shook her head. “This is going to reduce us to Avon and Mary Kay. Not exactly high fashion.”

“Avon and Mary Kay test on animals,” I supplied unhelpfully.

India forced what was very clearly a “we’re fucked” kind of smile. “Well, I guess it’s time to get on the phone to some nice vegans and see what we can do.”

The day was brutal. As far as first days went, it replaced the time I started working at GAP on Black Friday as the worst first day of my life. We spent most of the morning researching. All of the samples we had on hand were from companies on the no-no list. India decided that we’d spin the month as a return to natural beauty, in the hopes that someone in management would see how absurd this all was.

Look, it wasn’t that I wanted to think about bunnies getting lipstick smeared in their eyes, but I also didn’t want my job to go down the tubes. If word got out that the magazine was going cruelty-free, we were going to lose a lot of ad revenue.

Jessica and I did most of the running in and out of the building, to stop by company offices for last minute samples, or to department stores to buy what we couldn’t get overnighted. I was exhausted, my feet hurt, my hands were covered in eye shadow swatches in colors named “Kale” and “Brigid’s Flame”, but I supposed it could have been worse. As I was staggering through reception at eight o’clock, Deja was still at my old desk. She looked up and waved at me to come over.

Going into the old office felt completely weird, and the most bizarre pang of homesickness gripped me. Deja had the iPad Neil had lent me, and I almost puked up my heart at the sight of it. Had she looked at it? Had she seen that picture?

“Mr. Elwood wanted to make sure he returned this yesterday, but in the chaos with his emergency, he forgot.” She handed it to me with a smile, not one single hint of knowing in her expression.

Then I felt guilty and paranoid. “Thanks,” I said, gesturing to the door. “I’m going to head home, I’m beat.”

“I heard about the bad timing.” She grimaced to convey her sympathetic horror. “Get some rest.”

On the train on the way home, I opened the iPad. I was hoping to find a message or something there to tide me over until I saw Neil again, even though I realized how silly that hope was. I’m sure flirting with me wasn’t high priority when his poor mother was lying in a hospital bed.

Still, I was delighted when checked the notes app.

Sophie

I’m so sorry I can’t be there for your first week in the beauty department. Be assured I am lending my support from afar. Since I don’t have your personal email address, have mine. I’d love to hear from you, I find myself missing you already.

P.S. Deja is under the impression that this iPad belonged to you, so don’t try to return it at the office.

He signed it with his name and an email address I’d never seen before. But what I focused on was the “missing you” bit of the message. Missing me? He would have left this note while he was still in the office. I have to admit, that made me feel pretty warm and fuzzy.

When I got home, Holli was out. I pulled my laptop from its usual place under the couch and flipped open the screen. Then I logged into Gmail, typed in his address, and stared at the blank message field.

Of course I wanted to tell him what a huge mistake it was for the magazine to go cruelty-free. I wanted to tell him about all the extra work it caused for us, and all the people he was pissing off, people he needed to run Porteras. I wanted to warn him that these changes were too sweeping and sudden, but I recognized that now, when he was across the Atlantic tending to his mother’s medical crisis, was definitely not the time.

I was questioning my loyalties, too. Did I want to tell him all of this because I was looking out for him, or the magazine? The fact that I couldn’t decide— and without knowing if this were an issue he cared passionately about— was a little too confusing for me.