Above All Things Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  OTHER BOOKS BY ROSLYN SINCLAIR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  EPILOGUE

  OTHER BOOKS FROM YLVA PUBLISHING

  ABOUT ROSLYN SINCLAIR

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  www.ylva-publishing.com

  OTHER BOOKS BY ROSLYN

  SINCLAIR

  The X Ingredient

  The Lily and the Crown

  The Carlisle series

  Truth and Measure

  Above All Things

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This series is a labor of love that could never have been completed without the invaluable help of my friends and colleagues at Ylva Publishing. I would particularly like to thank Astrid Ohletz, Sandra Gerth, and most of all my editor, the peerless Lee Winter, who whipped the series into shape.

  The greatest thanks must go to my wife, whose patience and keen eye for detail helped me see what the story needed to become. I couldn’t have done it without her.

  DEDICATION

  The Carlisle Series is dedicated to the readers who have given me so much support and joy over the years. You all mean more to me than you’ll ever know.

  CHAPTER 1

  “WHAT DO YOU CONSIDER YOUR professional strengths?”

  The question sent a shiver up Jules Moretti’s spine. No matter how many job interviews she sat through, the fears of inadequacy—the surety that you just weren’t what they were looking for—never went away. Not completely.

  And she had to nail this interview. She really did. There were a lot fewer options than she’d expected when she’d begun the search.

  “Well,” the slender, dark-haired woman in front of her replied, “as my résumé says, I’ve worked for two families in the past ten years—it really gave me a chance to bond with their children. Before that, I worked in a day care all through high school, where I got to know many of the kids over time.

  So I’d have to say that my real strength is”—she gave a self-deprecating laugh—“endurance.”

  “Definitely seems useful. Essential, even.” Jules looked back down at her list of questions. “Um, how would you handle a crying baby?”

  The woman, whose name was Zahra, folded her hands in her lap and gave a modest smile. “Well, since I’m starting my master’s in child psychology, I keep up-to-date on all the latest studies and models—”

  “You mean the latest trends?”

  Jules turned a swift glare onto Vivian Carlisle, who sat next to her on the love seat in the den opposite from their candidate.

  Even now, it took a bit of gumption to glare at Vivian. Nobody just glared at the editor-in-chief of Du Jour, the world’s most influential fashion magazine.

  But nobody else was Vivian’s girlfriend either, much less a girlfriend who’d been tearing her hair out about finding a nanny.

  Vivian had better not screw this up. They’d conducted two other interviews so far, and both of the applicants had taken jobs elsewhere. Finding a top-tier nanny in Manhattan was no joke. Jules could never have imagined the competition.

  Zahra didn’t seem rattled by Vivian’s rude question, though.

  Instead, she gave Vivian a serene smile. “I wouldn’t call them

  ‘trends’ so much as ‘evolutions of thought,’ but I certainly understand why that might seem frustrating. It’s like, why can’t we just pick an approach and stick to it?”

  “Exactly.”

  That was the strongest display of enthusiasm from Vivian so far. Jules dared to hope. Zahra was a perfect candidate, and she’d be a real get for them.

  Vivian was just over five months pregnant. They should have had somebody locked down by now. The best nannies planned months ahead when they were transitioning from their current jobs. Zahra’s current charge was turning five in June, and his parents had decided it was time to hire a Parisian au pair instead. Never mind that Zahra was fluent in French, Arabic, and Spanish. She also had a minor in computer science and had played piano in the Columbia University Orchestra.

  With all her might, Jules willed Vivian to hear her thoughts: don’t drive this one off.

  “Crying means that your needs aren’t being met,” Zahra said. “If the baby’s hungry? I feed her. If she’s sleepy? I rock her and sing to her, if she’s into it. When your child is brand-new to the world, it’s essential to make her feel like she’ll get what she needs. Her future development depends on it.”

  “No pressure, huh?” Jules said. “Ha, ha.”

  Vivian’s glare, coupled with Zahra’s polite smile, told Jules that the joke hadn’t landed.

  The rest of the interview went more smoothly. Zahra seemed impressed by Jules’s description of how the house would be set up for the baby and with how specific Vivian was about what Zahra’s duties would be. How very, very specific. And particular. In fact, Vivian’s particularity seemed to woo Zahra instead of scare her like it did Du Jour employees.

  “It’s really helpful to know exactly what a parent is looking for,” Zahra said as she rose to her feet.

  Jules glanced at Vivian with a rueful smile. “Vivian’s pretty good at knowing exactly what she wants from an employee.”

  Vivian looked decidedly unapologetic.

  Zahra flashed Jules a grin that showed off her perfect teeth.

  “Well, as her assistant, you probably appreciate the benefits of that.”

  Jules opened her mouth to say “It’s a mixed blessing” when the truth caught up with her. She wasn’t Vivian’s assistant anymore. She’d been fired a week ago by Mark Tavio, chairman of the Koening publishing group and Vivian’s asshole boss.

  So now it would look weird to outsiders that she was helping out with this whole nanny process.

  Sweat broke out under her arms. What should she say? She didn’t want to lie. Not exactly. But she and Vivian hadn’t discussed this. They didn’t have a cover story. Now that she was thinking about it, that was so stupid. Why hadn’t they worked something out?

  Now Vivian’s face had closed off, inscrutable, as she gazed at Jules while Zahra waited expectantly. She was letting Jules take the lead.

  Jules prided herself in thinking on her feet, but all she could manage to say now was, “It took a while, but there are definitely benefits to clarity.”

  “For sure.” Zahra slung her Parker Clay tote over her shoulder. “It was very nice to meet both of you. Ms. Carlisle, thank you for your time.”

  “Of course. Julia, will you walk Zahra to the door?”

  Vivian’s tone was cooler than it had been before. It made Jules frown as she led Zahra to the front door. What was Vivian’s problem? Jules was only being professional.

  She took Zahra’s business card, waved goodbye, and then turned back to the house. Time to find out what Vivian’s attitude was about.

  When she returned to the den, Vivian was perched on the edge of the loveseat, hands folded her in her lap and clearly ready for a conversation with a capital C.

  Might as well beat her to the punch. Jules slid a hand through her thick, dark hair as she approached. “We should have prepped in advance.”

  “Prepped what, exactly?”

  Jules sat next to Vivian on the love seat. Normally, she’d reach out for Vivian to settle against her, but that didn’t seem to be on the menu right now. “Our cover story about our relationship. Sorry I was clumsy earlier. I’ll—”

  “Our cover story.”

  Vivian’s tone was as flat as a Kansas highway. Her eyes hadn’t warmed up one jot either. What was her problem?

  “Well, yes,” Jules said. “I can’t exactly snuggle up to you and give you a big kiss.”

  “What a shame,” Vivian said. “That’s exactly the sort of gesture I love. Julia, I agree there’s something we need to discuss, but I wouldn’t have called it a cover story.”

  Zahra’s business card crumpled in Jules’s palm. “What would you call it?”

  “I know we’re in an unusual situation,” Vivian said tightly,

  “but I’ve never been interested in living a lie.”

  “I didn’t lie,” Jules protested. “I didn’t say I’m your assistant.”

  That was so weak, and Vivian didn’t let her get away with it.

  “No, but you let her think it. You’re not my assistant, you’re my girlfriend. I’m not saying it’s a problem right now, but if we hire her, I’m not interested in pretending to be something we’re not.”

  Even in a fraught moment, hearing the words you’re my girlfriend from Vivian Carlisle’s lips sent an uncontrollable thrill through Jules. Only a month ago, that would have s
eemed completely impossible. Was Jules to be blamed for wanting to protect their fledgling relationship?

  “So what do you want her to think?” Jules asked. “Vivian, it’s still too early to come out in public. You just got divorced, and I just stopped working for you. Plus, we haven’t been together for long.”

  “I’m not talking about taking you to the Met benefit,”

  Vivian said in exasperation. “Good domestic help is known for being discreet, and if Zahra is as qualified as she seems, she’s not going to blab to Page Six if we hire her. You don’t have to tiptoe around our relationship in my house, of all places.”

  Put like that, Jules’s caution did seem extreme. The thought of being out to anyone, including the nanny, still made her blush. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have bothered her at all.

  Ordinarily didn’t include your lover being pregnant, freshly divorced, and—oh yeah—the most powerful person in the fashion industry. To say nothing of that person being your former boss.

  People would talk so much shit about both Jules and Vivian for this. Jules would be alternately a victim and a gold digger while Vivian would be alternately a predator and a sucker.

  Nobody would see it as a relationship of equals who were going into it with clear eyes and level heads.

  Yeah. Jules definitely felt level-headed about Vivian Carlisle, all right.

  She bit her lip as she looked at Vivian, taking in her bright blue eyes and short, blonde hair; her sharp, elegant features and her faultless poise. A slouchy cream sweater played down the slightly rounded shape of her stomach. Today, on a relaxed Sunday afternoon, she still looked more chic than most women dressed to the nines. Behind her eyes ran a mind that could see every situation from every angle without breaking a sweat.

  And beneath her casually elegant clothes hid a woman who was incredible in bed.

  The most primitive part of Jules’s brain snarled, Of course I want everyone to know she’s mine.

  The slightly more evolved part reminded Jules that Vivian might not feel the same way. Vivian might not, for example, get a mushy feeling in her chest at the thought of Jules. Vivian might not see a brunette woman in a crowd and feel her heart skip a beat, wondering if it was Jules.

  Vivian might not love Jules back.

  Oh, she cared for Jules. She’d made that clear. But how far did caring go? So far, it extended to wanting to have Jules around, wanting to have sex a lot, and talking and spending time together in a way that Vivian didn’t with anybody else.

  But she hadn’t used the word love or anything like it and showed no indication of doing so.

  “It was just a reflex, I guess,” Jules muttered instead of saying any of that. “I wasn’t thinking about it. We’ve both got a lot of other things going on right now, right?” She held up her hands and began to count on her fingers. “You having a baby, tying up your divorce, fending off Mark, plus me starting a new job, and…”

  Thankfully, a rueful smile crossed Vivian’s face. “I take your point. The divorce is in the rearview mirror, though.”

  No kidding. Vivian’s cheating ex-husband, Robert Kirk, had been eager to finish the divorce process. Which would have been fine, if not for the fact that he was just as eager—no, more eager—to sign away all rights to his own daughter, leaving Vivian with sole custody.

  That was just how Vivian had wanted it, but Jules couldn’t help thinking it was kind of a shame, even if Robert was an asshole. The baby was going to grow up knowing that her dad hadn’t wanted her.

  I’ll make up for it, Jules thought before she could catch herself.

  “Yes,” she said instead, scooting in closer to Vivian. “He’s history, and you’re all mine.”

  Vivian’s snort belied her relaxing body language, the way she leaned toward Jules. “The possessiveness comes out, does it?”

  “You know it does.” Jules slid a hand through Vivian’s hair.

  “Wanna make out before we call Zahra?”

  Vivian’s fingertips were already tracing over Jules’s blouse buttons. “Think this one will say yes?”

  “Do you?”

  “I do.” Vivian’s eyes cut a swathe into Jules’s own. “I’m pretty good at seeing when someone wants to say yes to me.”

  Heat suffused Jules until her scalp prickled. She made a low, breathless sound.

  Vivian dropped her hand down to Jules’s knee and slid it forward until it cupped the inside of Jules’s thigh, burning through her pants. “Would you like to do more than make out, Julia?”

  “Yes, Vivian,” Jules whispered, leaning forward for a kiss.

  “Oh yes.”

  CHAPTER 2

  A FEW DAYS LATER FIRST thing Friday morning, Jules finally got a look at the office space that her new boss, Simon Carvalho, had commandeered. It was the headquarters for Adrian & Jo—the upscale online consignment store he’d left Du Jour to found. Even though Jules had been thrown into working with Simon thanks to being fired, she was still excited. It was cool to be in on the ground floor.

  Not that she was doing anything thrilling. Currently, her duties were similar to what they’d been while working for Vivian at Du Jour. Simon had promised her a quick path to advancement, though. She’d be more than an assistant soon.

  How soon remained to be seen.

  The space itself was nothing special. Du Jour’s office was an exquisite place, laid out in cream and glass, the walls covered with original work from the hottest artists. It occupied a prime place in the Koening Building in Midtown.

  Adrian & Jo had humbler beginnings: standard, crappy office tile. Bare walls. Cubicles dotting the landscape. Simon was renting half a floor in Murray Hill. Not the most fashionable part of town.

  It was definitely a letdown after Du Jour, but Jules supposed she’d been spoiled in that regard.

  Adrian & Jo would move up in the world. You had to start somewhere.

  At least it wasn’t an open-office plan. Simon had imitated Vivian, who said it was a basic human right not to have to look at people in all directions. It was her one mercy to the underlings.

  Jules looked around the empty office, put her hands on her hips, and exhaled. There was plenty to take care of. And taking care of things was her specialty. She whipped out her cell phone with the ease of a career gunslinger and got to work.

  After a few days of being at loose ends, it was like putting on a comfortable pair of shoes. You needed those when you hit the ground running. She’d never had to pester tech support at Du Jour or the phone service provider or office furniture rental stores. But it was all about having soft skills, right?

  She was carving out a professional space for herself to make up for the one she’d just lost. It was separate from her relationship with Vivian too. Something just for Jules.

  The experts said that kind of thing was healthy in a relationship. Separate interests and careers and all. If Jules repeated that to herself enough, she might believe it.

  To Jules’s pleased surprise, Simon called her at six thirty p.m. and told her to wait at the office. He arrived fifteen minutes later, looking exhausted, and gave her a wry smile.

  “I was busy wrapping up Du Jour business all day,” he said.

  “I’m so glad Vivian wasn’t there. I just thought I’d stop by and see what—”

  He glanced around the reception area and saw Jules’s iMac humming along atop her neatly organized desk. Then he looked into his office and saw the same thing.

  “Wow,” he said.

  “I called in our IT guy,” Jules said. “I think he likes me.”

  “Do I smell coffee?”

  “I got a Keurig.”

  “Did you vacuum?”

  “Dusted too.”

  “Do you want my job?”

  Jules laughed. So did Simon.

  “Give me another ten years,” she said. “At least. Then maybe.”

  “Ah-h-h.” Simon stretched, pressing at the small of his back.

  “I kid, I kid. I’m not giving up this gig.”

  Then he took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. He looked a little apprehensive.

  “You’ll be great,” Jules said. “This whole thing will be great. I’ve been sending emails,” she added, “and I got some replies. It sounds like a lot of people are excited about what we’re doing. A high-end online designer consignment store is groundbreaking.”

  “I know.” Simon raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I got copied on a lot of those replies. You’ve been a busy little bee.”