Ah well, she was back to her first rule. Do not think about unprofitable things, things you cannot change. She was Judy Dean, who looked for the advantage in every situation. Every businessperson knows the old chestnut, she told herself as she walked, and felt her heartbeat slow, about the Chinese word for “crisis” being made up out of two characters: the one for “danger” and the one for “opportunity.”

She had to find a way to see the opportunity here. Of course it hurt to have the woman that Pierre had preferred to her rub her triumph in her face, but Pierre was long gone. What mattered now was her career. Sophie Massot was, at present, an obstacle. But Judy believed in “know thine enemy.”

She had always said—kept it in her heart—that she was brighter, more passionate, more alive, than Pierre’s wife. And of course, unlike that shadow of a woman, Judy had loved him, most deeply. But maybe now was a chance for revenge. To show the world, and show herself, what Pierre had missed.

Judy would find a way to use the dabbling of the jewel-encrusted wife. And there must be no more veiled displays of hostility, she admonished herself. No, the first thing I must do is get close to her.

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

“I trust everything is in order, Monsieur,” said the valet. He shut the door of the closet on Hugh’s clothes, which he had quickly and efficiently unpacked. “If there is anything else I can do for you . . .”

“Nothing.” Montfort pressed a ten euro note into the man’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Thank you, sir,” he said, disappearing.

Hugh examined his room with satisfaction. It was lunchtime, so the curtains were drawn back, and he could see rue St.-Emilion below him, bustling with people and traffic, although of course it was completely silent; the windows shut out all possible noise. He admired the heavy chintzes and ornate furnishings; the George V was one of the world’s last great hotels, and always made business travel that much less of a penance.

Not that it was a penance today.

He had a meeting with Louis Maitre at three, but he was hungry, and needed to shower and change. After a flight, no matter how brief, Montfort always required a clean shirt. He thought better that way.

He dialled room service and ordered lunch without consulting a menu. A salad, lamb chops with new potatoes, and a blackcurrant sorbet; he recalled they made a particularly good one here. And half a bottle of Krug, as he was in an expansive mood, some mineral water, and coffee, to finish off.