“I do,” Judy replied noncommittally.

He could not contain his curiosity. “How is she, as a boss?”

Judy carved off a small sliver of fried cheese. “I’m afraid I will offend you.”

“Try me,” he said, darkly.

“I don’t like it. She treats the company like her toy. Changes . . . many changes. Spiralling costs.” Judy shrugged those strong shoulders. “The party tonight was a success, but still . . . ,” she looked directly at him. “To be honest, Tom, I always assumed if Pierre did not come back I’d be working for you.”

“And you should be.”

“Tell me.” Judy went fishing. He was hooked, now, this handsome boy; she felt powerful, and she was enjoying it. “What does the dowager Mme Massot think of this situation?”

“She disapproves. It is not what my father wanted.”

Judy sighed. “And meanwhile, that limey bastard Montfort is sniffing around.”

“Yes,” Tom replied glumly. He was sure he could save Massot from his mother; not so sure he could save it from Hugh Montfort.

“He was there, you know.”

“Tonight?” Tom stiffened. “I didn’t see him.”

“Oh, no, he was there. Which is typical of your mother, I’m afraid.” Judy drank deeply of her iced Perrier. “It’s all a game to her.”

“Well, I’m going to put a stop to it,” Tom said, with great bravado. “First thing in the morning. I will call a press conference. Announce to the world my father’s wishes and that Grandmother and I will vote our stock against Maman.”

“But how would that stop Hugh Montfort?” The pretty girl in front of him zoomed in, with unerring accuracy, on his major problem. “Won’t the shareholders just see a family quarrel? They’ll throw their hands in the air and go with Mayberry.”

“I’ll figure something out,” Tom said, with more confidence than he felt.

“You know, I wouldn’t call that press conference,” Judy said softly. She drained the last of her cognac and set the glass down, twirling the stem between her strong fingers.

“You wouldn’t?”

She shook her head. “If you are serious about taking over, Tom . . . there may be another way.”

He looked at her; she was so quiet, and sure, and sexy; he wanted to believe her, with everything he had.

“And it would get rid of Montfort too?”

“If you are prepared to suffer a little compromise . . . yes, it would,” Judy said.

The plan had come to her while she was sipping the cognac; it was due in part to the alcohol, loosening her up, presenting her with imaginative possibilities she would normally be blind to. But it was perfect. It was obvious, once she’d come up with it; it would work; it would screw Sophie and Hugh Montfort, both, equally.

She would finally be revenged.

“Yes . . . it would,” she repeated, and smiled.