‘Yeah, right. And the identical dresses? Whose bright idea was that?’

‘Mine. And it was a good idea. That dress is your best piece. I wanted to show him what you were capable of. Believe it or not, I was trying to help you. But I can see where that’s got me. Both you and Rivelli think I’m some kind of jealous lunatic who’s got nothing better to do than engineer embarrassing social situations that actually hurt me more than anyone else. Oh, it’s okay for you, isn’t it? People will talk for a couple of weeks, just long enough to get the Cissé brand in everyone’s mind, and then they’ll forget it. Rivelli will be in the doghouse for a while, but then she’ll take him back, like she always does. But me? I’m the one who got a drink thrown in her face. I’m the one who was made to look like a scheming bitch. That kind of mud sticks, you know. Unless I’m very lucky, Rivelli will drop me. And then I’ll be . . .’

Her voice cracked, and she stopped, took a deep breath.

‘Can I smoke?’

‘No.’

Victoria’s hands fidgeted, picking at strands of hair.

‘Look. You probably know anyway. Rivelli and I are . . . lovers.’

‘No. Really?’

‘It’s not easy being with someone as successful and powerful as him. I’m walking on eggshells all the time.’

‘Look, I don’t know anything about the personal side of things.’

‘Of course not,’ said Victoria. ‘Forgive me. It’s so hard sometimes having nobody to talk to, but . . .’ She rummaged in her handbag for a tissue, and blew her nose. ‘You don’t want to hear my problems. Here,’ she said, holding out a small, fat, rectangular wrap of white paper, ‘take this. Call it a peace offering.’ She put it on the table. ‘You’re always working so hard. You look as if you need it.’

She left. Isabelle listened to the receding clack-clack-clack of her heels, staring down at the small white packet in front of her.

It was really not appropriate to be taken for lunch by a prospective client, thought Christine, but the whole thing happened so fast that she didn’t have time to say no. And, for once, it was nice to put pleasure before business, and blow the consequences. Was she, after all these years of circumspection, becoming spontaneous? Well, that much she had Joel to thank for.

She met Massimo Rivelli in the Ferguson McCreath offices; he was coming out of a meeting with John, she was going in. John introduced them, they shook hands, Rivelli looked her up and down with an appraising eye, and liked what he saw. Christine experienced a slight flutter at the sight of those ice-blue eyes, the perfect white teeth, shining out of that tanned, handsome face.

And that was that – she thought.