Truth and Measure by Roslyn Sinclair EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Roslyn Sinclair
- Language: English
- Genre: Lesbian Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“I’VE NEVER CARED FOR YELLOW,” Vivian Carlisle said absently, looking over
the editorial spread. “It’s so garish. Even in pastels.”
Most people would assume her comment was a casual observation. Jules
Moretti, not most people, knew it was the calm before the storm and decided
this would be a great time to stare intently at the notes on her tablet.
Who was today’s unlucky target? It couldn’t be her. Vivian didn’t make a
habit of discussing aesthetic preferences with personal assistants. It must be
somebody a lot higher up the ladder than Jules but still below Vivian. Like
Simon, the creative director. Or Angie, head of copywriting. Or God.
But when Jules looked up, unable to take the long silence, she was
skewered by Vivian’s eyes looking directly at her from across the desk.
Simon and Angie had left the room, and the heavens remained resolutely
silent.
And when Vivian Carlisle said a thing to you and then looked at you, you
had about two seconds to figure out whether or not she wanted you to say
something back. Jules’s two seconds were halfway up.
She thought fast. She didn’t wear a lot of yellow and she wasn’t wearing
any today, and there were models wearing yellow in the spread, so Vivian
wasn’t critiquing Jules personally. At least not yet.
Think. Think. Think.
“They’ve done studies,” Jules heard herself saying. “People think yellow’s
supposed to make you feel cheerful, but it doesn’t. It can actually make
people anxious.” Something more seemed called for. “Uh, pink makes them
calmer, actually.”
Did that qualify as thinking? Maybe it was more like shoving her head
underwater and shaking it around rapidly. Vivian had no patience for fools.
That remark probably qualified as foolish.
Vivian raised an eyebrow.
Jules suppressed the urge to inform her that sometimes prison cells were
painted pink to keep the prisoners happy. It might be taken the wrong way.
Instead of calling her foolish, Vivian looked back down at the spread on
her desk.
Jules braced herself.
“Mallory,” Vivian said.
Jules already had her message app pulled up, and she fired off a summons.
This wouldn’t be pleasant. Mallory had worked at Du Jour for two years now
as a photography director. She’d come up with cool, innovative spreads that
had put her first on Simon’s radar, then Vivian’s. Her last project had lacked
that flair, though—Vivian had called it “vapid.” This was strike two, and
Vivian would make sure Mallory felt the whiff of the baseball as it barely
missed her face.
Mallory seemed to sense this as she hurried in, glancing around at the
sleek, midcentury furniture and the huge windows that offered amazing views
of Manhattan. Mallory fit right in with it, as tall and slim as a skyscraper,
clad head to toe in the latest designer fashions.
She was elegant and gorgeous, and she tried so hard. She wanted it so
much. Too much. Radiating that kind of attitude in front of Vivian Carlisle
was like throwing chum to a shark.
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