Charlotte nodded. This wasn’t her usual brief. The windfall usually came first, then the counselling, not the other way round.

‘If the worst case does come to pass and Carlos gifts the bulk of the estate out of the Mendoza family, we need to be in position to make sure that, regardless, the money stays banked with us. Get close to this woman – she needs to trust you, listen to you, be guided by you. She likely won’t know the first thing about finance at this level and I don’t want our counterparts getting wind there’s a new heiress on the block.’ He looked straight at her with his pale gaze. ‘I want you doing that thing you do.’

‘Connecting?’ she asked, the wry note showing in her eyes only.

‘Exactly that,’ he nodded. ‘Bring her in to the mothership, Charlotte. Losing three-quarters of a billion pounds doesn’t look good on anyone’s CV.’

‘Was that a threat?’ Milton asked her as they walked down the corridor together.

‘Naturally.’

Milton missed a beat and she knew he was smiling. She also knew he found her intriguing, his braggadocio style in complete contrast to her quiet confidence and serene reserve. ‘You seem pretty calm, given that he’s putting it all on you to make sure she keeps the investment with us.’

‘You think it’s all on me?’ Her arms swung lightly as she walked, her back straight, chin up. Various people nodded at him – them – as they passed. ‘Funny. My take was he’s got to go through you first. You and Paul are my . . .’ She looked at him quizzically. ‘What’s the terminology in American football, when you put the battering rams in front to protect the guy running with the ball?’

‘Blockers.’

‘Right. It’s only going to come down to me if legal can’t find a way to block the donation, which I’m sure they can. And of course we all know you know exactly how to make his liquid assets infinitely more ‘fixed’, so that even if the donation actually did come to pass, I doubt there’d be much left for me to have to save.’

‘You’re flattering me again, Charlotte,’ he chuckled as they reached his office, the view of the oxbow meander of the Thames looking sluggish below the hazy sky. A tall, rangy man was already sitting on his velvet sofa and idly flicking through a copy of The Economist. ‘Oh, Lord Finch, apologies! My meeting overran.’ He strode across the room in four strides, looking important and dynamic, holding out a fleshy hand. ‘Good to see you. Good to see you.’ His eyes shone with the excitement that came from personally knowing a peer of the realm. ‘Hey, allow me to introduce you to Charlotte Fairfax. I’ve been wanting to put the two of you together, she’s our wealth counsellor. I think she could have some very timely advice for you in light of your recent . . . alimony woes.’