Zoe felt her cheeks begin to burn. She gave an overly bright smile and said, “You always say that, darling. But I’m actually beginning to believe it.”

“You should. You should also know your newspaper is in worse shape than you think. Jason has a lifeboat waiting for him at Latham headquarters. But I’m afraid the rest of the Journal’s management will have to fend for itself, along with the editorial staff.”

“How much longer can we stay afloat?”

“Without a buyer or a massive infusion of cash…not long.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Because Latham approached me last week and asked whether I’d be willing to take the Journal off its hands.”

“You’re joking.” His expression made clear he wasn’t. “That would make our relationship more complicated than it already is, Martin.”

“Don’t worry, Zoe. I said I wasn’t interested. Media is a rather small portion of our overall investment picture at the moment, and I have no interest in taking on a newspaper that’s bleeding to death.” He held up his mobile phone. “How do you expect people to pay for something when you’re giving it away for free?”

“And the Journal?”

“I suspect you’ll get a lifeline.”

“From whom?”

“Viktor Orlov.”

Zoe recognized the name. Viktor Orlov was one of the original Russian oligarchs who had made billions gobbling up the valuable assets of the old Soviet state while ordinary Russians were struggling for survival. Like most of the first-generation oligarchs, Viktor had worn out his welcome in Russia. He now lived in London in one of the city’s most valuable homes.

“Viktor got his British passport a few months ago,” Martin said. “Now he wants a British newspaper to go with it. He thinks owning the Journal will grant him the social standing in London he craves most. He also wants to use it as a club to beat his old adversaries in the Kremlin. If he succeeds in getting his hands on it, your publication will never be the same.”

“And if he doesn’t buy us?”

“The paper could fold in short order. But remember, Zoe, you didn’t hear that from me.”

“I never hear anything from you, darling.”

“I certainly hope not.”

Zoe laughed in spite of herself. She was surprised at how easily she had fallen into the familiar, comfortable pattern of their relationship. She tried not to resist these feelings, just as she tried not to think about the mobile phone at Martin’s elbow or the notebook computer resting on the island in the kitchen.

“How well do you know Viktor?”

“Well enough.” Martin jabbed at his food. “He forced me to invite him to the fund-raiser at Villa Elma next week.”

“How did he manage that?”

“By writing a million-euro check to One World. I don’t care for Viktor or the way he does business, but at least you’ll have a chance to rub shoulders with your new owner.” He looked at her seriously. “You are still planning to come, aren’t you, Zoe?”