Judy bit her lip. Unbidden, a sharp image flashed into her mind: Pierre, after a wild lovemaking session here, in this very office, telling her to get into his Corvette, driving her through the city . . .

She’d asked where they were going. He wouldn’t say. But when he stopped outside the building, that lovely, eighteenth-century pale grey stone lit up by the fading sun, he’d pointed upwards.

“See that?”

She nodded.

“The penthouse.” And then he’d fished that dangling key out of his pocket. “All yours, baby.”

It was the greatest present she’d ever received. An actual place of her own. That had been the one moment, the one golden, glorious moment, when Judy felt Pierre truly loved her.

Gregoire Lazard’s eyes lit up with amusement; he looked discreetly down at his desk.

“Rue des Cloches? Oh, how lovely,” Sophie said, warmly. “I believe that’s a very up-and-coming neighbourhood.”

Yes, I definitely hate her, Judy confirmed.

“Well then, until tomorrow,” she said, smiling brightly. “Ex cuse me.”

Back in her office, Judy informed Marie, as calmly as she could, that they would be making the move to the tenth floor.

“Mais pourquoi, Mademoiselle?” Marie asked, dismayed.

She doesn’t want to move any more than I do, Judy thought. All her friends are down here, and she too has access to a window.

“Mme Massot has decided she wants to work more closely with me,” Judy said, daring the other woman to say something.

Marie swallowed. “I see,” she said, reverting to English.

“It is a wonderful opportunity to work closely with the chairman of the board,” Judy said cheerfully. “We must be on our best behaviour, Marie.”

She felt a wave of tiredness sweep over her. PR taught one how to act happy and upbeat at times when you felt the opposite, but this—this was going to be exhausting. Smiling and bowing all day long. She hoped to hell Sophie would tire of this charade soon; that woman as an executive? It was like Marie Antoinette playing the shepherdess.

“Marie, have maintenance take care of it. Supervise the installations. Then you can take the rest of the day off. I am going home now.”

“If someone should need you, Mademoiselle, how can they reach you?”

“They can’t,” Judy said firmly. “I’ll be back in tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mademoiselle.”

Judy picked up her purse and walked downstairs and out the front door as fast as she could. She needed some fresh air, to breathe and to collect herself. Hastily, she walked towards the centre of town. She would break her own rules about eating in the middle of the day and find somewhere to have something sweet. A pastry or two, or a tarte tatin. And a coffee, although she was so jumpy that perhaps it should be decaf.

The day had started out so well, so promisingly. And now. . . .