Looking at her watch, Dominique calculated that in Paris it was five o’clock in the afternoon. Dominique reached for the phone and within minutes heard Mirabelle’s lilting accent in her ear.

“Chérie, you are calling from work!”

“Yes, Mirabelle. Solveig said to call you as soon as possible.”

“But it is early there, no?”

“Eight o’clock,” Dominique said with a yawn.

“I hate to see you working so hard, but you are doing the right thing.” Mirabelle’s voice lowered, and took on a conspiratorial tone. “François is crazy; he is obsessing with replacing you.”

Dominique rubbed her forehead, suddenly feeling even more tired than she was a few seconds ago. She’d worked too hard the last five years to be dealing with this crap. She’d already paid her dues and felt that now all she should be seeing were the rewards of her labor. Instead, she saw a fight brewing. “What has he done now?”

“Flown over a candidate for an interview with some of the investors, an editor from an Italian fashion magazine.”

Dominique sat up straight. “Who?”

“A puppet whose strings he can pull.” Mirabelle told Dominique the editor’s name. “You intimidate him, Dominique. In your presence he feels like a fool. This bimbo arrived last night and I believe that her and François shared more than dinner, if you know what I mean.”

“But I thought he was gay?”

“He’s whatever to whomever ... and I hear he likes whips and chains.”

“Please!” Dominique interrupted. “Spare me the details, Mirabelle.”

Mirabelle’s tinkling laughter poured through the receiver. “Anyway, she is here, and he doesn’t know that I know it. Her visit is very hush-hush but Mirabelle makes it her business to know everything.”

“That man has had it out for me from the beginning. I’m sick of feeling his daggers in my back.”

“That’s why I’m calling—to warn you. But also to tell you don’t worry. That I have—how do you Americans say—a trick up my sleeve?”

“I appreciate that, Mirabelle. But François has some of the other investors in his back pocket. They really listen to him.”

“Don’t worry, chérie. When the time comes, they’ll listen to me. Take down this name. He’s a dear friend of mine who lives in Los Angeles and he’s ready to come on board with enough money to shut up François and his gang.” Mirabelle chuckled again, clearly enjoying the messiness. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, his name is ...”