She rested her hand languidly on her collar bone and deliberately undid one button of her dress.

“I think that’s my business, Mr. Montfort,” she said, and extended her leg, flashing him more than a glimpse of thigh, displaying the very tip of a garter belt.

His eyes glinted.

“You are not happy at House Massot, I take it.”

“It’s a joke of a company,” Judy said. “I’d be happy to come and work for you.”

She imagined that glorious possibility: a new Pierre, better, more manly, and unmarried. A jolting crowd of sexual images tumbled into her mind. It would be like it was when Pierre first summoned her. Sex in his office. Sex in her office. His touch in the elevator. All day long, aware of her own thighs, her womanhood. Not like now, when she was so cold, so dry. Hugh Montfort would wake her up again.

“Not Sophie Massot?” he asked.

Judy said with sudden vigour, “I hate that goddamned bitch.”

Montfort looked at the slim beige file in her hands, at the exquisite gold leaf brooch she was clutching. He knew she had something, the final piece in his puzzle. He wanted to know it rather badly. The same way he wanted to shove that teasing little dress the rest of the way up her thighs and take her, immediately, perhaps more than once.

He stood up.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Dean,” he said with cold courtesy. “But I am not interested.”

Judy just sat there. “What?”

Her thigh was exposed; flushing, with anger this time, she quickly hid it.

“That’s your cue to leave,” Hugh Montfort said.

Judy stood up; her cheeks were bright red.

“But you need this to win.”

“No,” Hugh said. “I don’t. I rather respect Mrs. Massot. And I intend to beat her in a manner that is entirely aboveboard.”

“Well,” Judy responded sharply. “You saw me, Mr. Montfort. So you’re not as pure as all that.”

He grinned, inclined his head. “Touché.”

Judy moved towards him where he stood by the door. Her body was still on fire, and she was sure his was too.

She stood just a little too close to him, to let him see the swell of her cleavage under the button she’d left undone.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” she murmured.

He smiled. “Quite sure. And allow me.”

Montfort reached over and did up the button on her dress. Then he opened the door to his suite.

“Off you go, Miss Dean,” he said. “Don’t make me call security.”

Judy started. Then the rage and humiliation started to build in her, making her sweat, making her dizzy. Her throat was too thick to speak, even to curse him. She gathered up her file and stormed out of his room.

Montfort closed the heavy door behind her, and, as she marched off towards the elevators, she heard him. Chuckling to himself.