Lazard smiled appreciatively.

“Of me, you mean.”

Judy inclined her head.

“And what did she say?”

She noticed Gregoire had actually shifted his body forward; he was literally on the edge of his seat.

“She seemed most disturbed by the implication, and told me she has perfect trust in you. Then she asked me for my assessment of House Massot, and when I reassured her, she took the rest of the day off.”

“I see.”

Gregoire Lazard steepled his fingertips and looked straight at Judy; the sky blue, slanted eyes were impenetrable, and for a moment she worried. Had she overstepped herself? Misread him?

“Although I do not believe I should be instigating promotions at this time,” Lazard said, “I have . . . recently been impressed with your work on the London shows.”

They had taken place more than a month ago.

“Thank you,” said Judy.

“And I have decided to increase your salary.”

She smiled coolly; she had gambled and won. “Thank you,” she repeated.

“You will now receive one hundred and seventy-five thousand euros.”

Judy tensed. One seventy-five? Her current salary was one fifty. She had been looking for a quarter of a million, at least. She wondered whether or not she should challenge Lazard.

“I trust you will consider increasing that soon, Gregoire,” she said.

Lazard’s blue eyes held hers, calmly.

“Certainly, Judy, you understand that salary increases as performance increases. If you continue at this level of service, then . . .”

He waved a manicured hand to indicate the infinite possibilities.

Judy nodded. She understood perfectly. She was no longer a PR girl, she was now Gregoire Lazard’s eyes and ears in House Massot, and maybe outside it.

“I wonder,” she said delicately. “If Mme Massot does decide that she will be spending less time in the office . . . I think she should still be updated on our doings here, and of course, I am quite fond of her. Although it’s a little unorthodox, perhaps you might consider my taking some time off, in the workday, to visit her, to continue our . . . friendship?”

“On reflection, perhaps I was a little conservative. Let us say two hundred thousand,” Gregoire Lazard replied.

Judy offered him her hand across the table. “A pleasure doing business with you, Monsieur,” she said.

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

It started in such a mundane way. With a holiday.

“Dad.” Sophie screwed up her courage.

“Yeah?”

Mike Roberts didn’t turn aside from his copy of the Mirror. Not that she’d expected him to. Her dad didn’t like her much. Eighteen years of sulking that she wasn’t a boy. And Mum only really cared about pleasing Dad.

“I’d like to go to Cannes with Joanna Wilson.”

“Jo Wilson? That girl’s a little tart.” Roberts sniffed. “And where’s Cannes?”

“In France. Just for the weekend.” Sophie made her excuse. “It’s cultural . . . and I did get my passport last year, remember?”