Over the next few months, the once clumsy and ignorant young woman blossomed into her role. Emily was shocked that Miranda had put up with her after some of her incompetence, but perhaps more importantly, Emily was shocked to find she could actually trust Andrea with Miranda's schedule and the book.

On several occasions, though, Emily had to remind Andrea of the golden rule: You do not ask Miranda anything. While Emily viewed her ability to remain detached as a strength, Andrea often struggled with her emotions around their mercurial boss. The editor had the effect of being hated and loved at the same time. In those fleeting moments when the illustrious editor revealed a chink in her armor, where Emily had trained herself to look away and ignore it, Andrea's empathy nearly cost her her job.

On the day of the annual benefit gala, Miranda shocked both assistants by demanding Andrea join at the last minute. While Miranda went home to get ready, Nigel hurried to find Andrea something to wear, and Emily helped her to study all the names of the guests who would be in attendance.

At the townhouse, Miranda was dressed and ready to go, sitting on the small couch in her bedroom. She called over to her ex-husband's house to tell her daughters to have a good night, and then once again dialed her current husband's cell phone, only to be taken to voicemail.

She looked at the time—she was due to arrive in fifteen minutes, and it would take at least twenty-five with current traffic. At this point, she would have to arrive without Stephen because she couldn't be much later for her own event.

A small yawn escaped her lips as she stood, and for a split second she thought about taking the edge off before she showed up. Deciding against it, she grabbed her things and stepped into the waiting car out front.

Not long after she arrived, she saw Jacqueline Follet on the other side of the ballroom and it made the hair on her neck stand on end. As she was about to excuse herself to the bathroom, she ran into Stephen, drunkenly insulting everyone in his path.

"Stephen, darling," she said, linking her arm in his and pulling him aside. "Honey, I was wondering where you were."

"Sorry, we had this work thing," he slurred.

"Ah, a 'work thing.' I see," she said. "You didn't by chance bring that work thing with you, did you?"

"Huh?" he asked.

Miranda gently dabbed at the bottom of her nose. "You know."

"Oh! Yeah, I do. Why?" he said, pulling her closer to him. "You want a hit now?"

She could feel him pushed up against her. "Yes, please," she said, kissing him softly. "Kiss me, make it look like we're stepping aside to be alone," she whispered as she tugged him towards the bathrooms.

Andrea grimaced as she watched Miranda sneak away with Stephen. If he was as much of a scumbag as Emily said, she couldn't figure out why Miranda was even with him.

She waited all night for her boss to return, but when it looked like she wasn't coming back, Nigel told both her and Emily that they could leave for the night. Emily was thrilled to leave a little early, but Andrea hung around because she was honestly worried about the editor. Stephen had been clearly drunk when he walked into the party, and she wasn't sure where he had taken Miranda. Andrea even sent a text message to Roy to see if they had left the event entirely, but he hadn't seen the editor and was still parked out front.

After most of the guests had left for the evening and the lights were turned up, Andrea set out in search of the editor. She wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't know where Miranda was at all times—or so she told herself. The benefit tonight was at the Natural History Museum, so it wasn't like there were rooms upstairs that they could have disappeared to. In fact, most of the museum's corridors were blocked off with security guards actively patrolling the collection.

She pulled up some notes on her phone that Emily had sent her, and one of them was about a semi-private bathroom adjacent to the main corridors that Miranda preferred using. Andrea quickly found the room hidden behind a curtain, as it had not been made accessible to the guests this evening. After a deep breath, she knocked sharply on the door. "Miranda?"

Suddenly, the door swung open and the editor was in her face. "What on earth do you want?!" she shouted. The assistant couldn't help but notice that her hair was mussed and her pupils were heavily dilated.

"A-are you—are you okay?" Andrea asked, gasping at the telltale trace of powder beneath her nose.

Miranda simply stared at her, eyes glazed over and cheeks flushed. The young woman gestured towards her nose, and the editor's eyes widened in horror as she reached up to brush the powder away.

"Miranda, I—"

The editor reached out and grabbed the young woman's wrist. "Andrea, you are finished for the evening. Go home," she said, tightening her grip.

Andrea softly bit her lip and nodded, closing her eyes to hide the tears beginning to form.

Miranda tugged her back, her lips inches from the young woman's ear. "Not a word of what you've seen, Andrea. Do you understand? If you value your career, you will keep your mouth shut," she hissed.

Andrea nodded frantically, and once Miranda released her wrist, she scurried away.

.. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . ..

The next morning, Miranda sent a text message to Emily to cancel her morning appointments. She didn't explain why, and Emily knew better than to ask. But Andrea was fairly certain why the editor was taking the morning off, and with her newly free morning, she decided to do some research on the editor's drug of choice.

Miranda arrived just after lunch, and wreaked havoc on the team. The layouts were wrong. The samples were hideous. The ideas, too dull. By the time she left just after six o'clock, everyone was exhausted—and in need of a drink. Emily was the first to leave, then Serena, Jocelyn, Paul, and Nigel, until the only ones left were the production team and Andrea, who was dutifully waiting for the book.

Andrea had tried to block out the image of her boss from the previous night, but she was terribly unsuccessful. Instead, all she could see were the editor's wild eyes and mussed hair. If she was being honest with herself, she'd give anything to see that look again—especially if she were the object of the woman's attention and drugs hadn't been involved.

It was nearly midnight when the book was finally ready. Andrea quietly entered the townhouse, and to her surprise, Miranda and Stephen were standing at the base of the staircase, engaged in a heated argument. Stephen was wearing a white t-shirt and boxers, and Miranda was wearing a Tahari silk robe. His hand was firmly grasped around the woman's bicep, and from what Andrea could see, he seemed to be trying to pull her upstairs against her will.

Andrea held her breath while she quickly went through her options: she could turn around and not deliver the book or she could deliver it and ignore whatever was happening. Deciding on the latter, she looked down at the floor as she hurried to the table. As she turned to leave, she heard Stephen mutter, "Fuck you, you frigid bitch," before noisily making his way upstairs.

Miranda gasped, and Andrea did, too. When no one spoke, Andrea turned and looked up, meeting both of their eyes.

"What the fuck is she doing here, anyway?" Stephen said, twisting Miranda's arm and causing her to grimace in pain.

"Stephen, you know my assistant delivers the book every night," she said. "It's not her fault you chose to assault me right here in the foyer."

"Oh, fuck you!" Stephen shouted, releasing Miranda's arm and pushing her across the foyer into the closet. He turned and marched up the stairs.

Miranda's eyes were closed as she leaned against the wall and clutched her arm where his hand had been.

Andrea knew this would be the perfect opportunity to make her escape, but she couldn't leave Miranda after that. She couldn't help but ask, "Are you okay?"

Miranda's eyes shot open. "Am I okay? AM I OKAY?" she shouted. "Of course I am fucking okay," she hissed. "What else would I be? And where do you, the lowliest of my staff, come off interrupting my personal life, a personal discussion between me and my husband? Go home," she said.

Andrea took a step back, but couldn't pry her eyes from the wild rage on the editor's face.

"Was I not clear?" she hissed, stepping closer to the young woman. "Get. Out."

"Miranda, please don't do this to yourself," Andrea said quickly, taking a few steps backwards to the door.

The editor grabbed the young woman's arm and then quickly released it, as if she just realized how closely her movements mirrored Stephen's. "Don't you dare speak to me like that again, you insolent little girl!" she said.

Andrea quickly turned and ran out of the townhouse, not even bothering to shut the door behind her.

.. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . ..

The next morning, Andrea arrived at the office early, as usual, but she was nervous of what Miranda would say to her that day—or if she even had a job after the previous night.

Miranda walked in as she did everyday—on her phone and without looking at either assistant. She tossed her coat and bag on Andrea's desk and walked into her office, shutting the door. Andrea quickly hung the items in the closet, and as she was making her way back to her desk, Miranda opened her office door.

Andrea looked up and locked eyes with the editor. "Good morning, Miranda," she said quietly before taking a seat at her desk.

Miranda turned and walked back to her desk without saying a word.

The rest of the morning was quiet, and just before lunch, Miranda took a call on her cell phone, after which she quickly called Andrea into her office.

"Andrea, you need to run to the townhouse—there's a folder I left on my desk and a small black jewelry satchel in the desk drawer," she said. "I needed this five minutes ago. If you're not back in twenty minutes, you may as well not even bother to return."

Andrea's eyes widened. The townhouse was a ten minute drive in mid-day traffic. As much as she wanted to quit and just walk away from everything, she decided she wouldn't make it that easy for Miranda. She quickly made her way out front and had Roy take her to the townhouse as quickly as possible. On the way, she called Cara, who she knew was cleaning the upstairs bedrooms that day, and asked her to retrieve the items and meet her at the corner, to save her time.

The young assistant's plan worked perfectly, and nineteen minutes after leaving, she was stepping off the elevator and walking straight into Miranda's office. "Here are your things," she said as she held the folder and jewelry bag up, grinning with pride.

"What?! Come here," Miranda said as she jumped up and grabbed her by the elbow, tugging her into the private bathroom and locking the door. She took the bag from Andrea and examined its contents before she turned her attention to the young woman. "How did you get this so fast? Did anyone see you?"

"What? No, um Cara met me halfway. What's going on?" Andrea asked.

"You involved my nanny!?" Miranda asked. "Jesus. Where the police there?"

"Huh? No. I mean, I actually don't know."

Miranda sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

Just then, Emily knocked on the bathroom door. "Miranda, Detective Stewart from the NYPD requests to speak with you immediately," she said.

"Put him on hold. I will take the call as soon as I'm finished," she said through the door. She waited for Emily's footsteps then turned to Andrea. "What did you say to Cara?"

"Nothing!" Andrea said. "I just told her you needed that folder and jewelry bag. Honestly. What's going on? Why are the police at your house? Are the girls okay?"

"They are fine. The police are looking for this," she said, holding up the jewelry pouch. "And here I thought the innocent thing was just an act of yours," she muttered.

"Wait, that's not jewelry? Miranda, you sent me to your house to retrieve your drugs when you knew the police were on their way?" she asked.

"Ah, your brain still functions," Miranda said, rolling her eyes. "You will remember that you are bound by your confidentiality agreement, which extends to suspected illegal activity, Andrea. Keep your mouth shut and go back to your desk like a good little assistant," she said, opening the door for the woman to leave.

Andrea returned to her desk. What had she gotten herself into?

TBC...