Yori asked Amaya. It was just eight in the morning, on the weekend, and Amaya usually was still flat on her back unconscious until at least noon.“Off to meet Harper,” she said, tucking a yellow clutch beneath her arm. She was smartly dressed in a navy blue pantsuit and matching yellow pumps.“You’re meeting Harper again?” He knew he sounded very much like a jealous husband, but he really didn’t trust his wife around the famously wealthy and handsome publisher. He and Amaya had been meeting quite regularly now after Amaya agreed to be the technical designer for Harper’s new line of young adult clothing.The man owned one of the biggest publishing companies in New York, was half partner in another publishing company in Japan, and was just about to open a third publishing company in China. Why did he have to be a fashion mogul too?“This is the only time we have free,” Amaya answered. “He’s a very busy man, and my work is starting to pick up too.”Amaya did seem a lot happier now since they’d had a long talk about her attempted suicide.
