“I’m prepared to pay you a salary of five hundred thousand dollars a year, plus housing, plus an unlimited expense account. The job would require a great deal of travel—and, of course, you would be spending a great deal of time with me and my extended family. That was the reason I invited you on this cruise. I wanted you to get to know us. I trust you’ve enjoyed yourself and our hospitality.”

“Very much,” she said.

He held up his hands. “Well?”

“I’ll need a guaranteed contract of three years.”

“Done.”

“Five hundred the first year, six hundred the second, and seven fifty the third.”

“Done.”

“And then there’s the signing bonus.”

“Name your figure.”

“Two hundred and fifty thousand.”

“I was prepared to give you another five hundred. Do we have a deal?”

“I believe we do.” Her smile quickly faded. “I’m not looking forward to telling Julian about it.”

“It’s just business, Sarah. Julian will understand.”

“He’s going to feel very hurt.”

“Perhaps it would be easier if I spoke to him.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll do it myself. I owe it to him.”

“You’re obviously a woman of integrity.” He stood suddenly. “I’ll instruct the lawyers to draw up your contract. Herr Wehrli will issue you a check for your signing bonus, along with an AAB credit card for your expenses.” He extended his hand. “Welcome to the family, Sarah.”

She shook it, then moved toward the door.

“Sarah?”

She turned around.

“Please don’t make the same mistake Andrew did. As you can see I’m very generous to the people who work for me, but I get very angry when they betray me.”

JULIAN ISHERWOOD, upon hearing the news, was predictably appalled. He railed against Zizi, then against Sarah. “Don’t bother coming back to the gallery for your things!” he shouted. “You’re not welcome here—you or your bloody Saudi sheikh!” After slamming down the phone he made his way over to Green’s, where he found Oliver Dimbleby and Jeremy Crabbe huddled conspiratorially at the end of the bar.

“Why the long face, Julie?” Dimbleby asked a touch too gleefully.

“I’ve lost her.”

“Who?”

“Sarah,” said Isherwood. “She’s left me for Zizi al-Bakari.”

“Don’t tell me she’s actually taken Andrew Malone’s old job.”

Isherwood nodded solemnly.

“Tell her to stay out of Zizi’s cookie jar,” said Crabbe. “He’ll chop off her hand. Legal there, you know.”

“How did he get her?” Dimbleby asked.

“Money, of course. That’s how they get everything.”

“True, indeed,” said Dimbleby. “At least we still have the lovely Elena.” We do, thought Isherwood. But for how long?