But Nathan, he threatened that. He always had. He made the world spin faster. He made the colours truer. He was an obsession she would lose herself in and she couldn’t afford to live on those boundaries.

She stared down at the desk that was hers for the duration of her trip. It was largely bare, save for the thick and weighty Mendoza files and a few Post-it notes, including a number for Katerina Cedano, her contact at the Prado. She rubbed a finger over the name. She had been at the funeral that awful day five years ago.

‘This came for you,’ a young executive said, standing by her door and holding a large envelope. A red ‘confidential’ sticker had been slapped across the seal. How long had he been there for?

‘Thank you,’ she said briskly, snapping back to attention and holding her hand out for it.

She waited until he was gone before opening it, but she already knew what it was: the offer and contract terms from Mateo Mendoza’s office. She read through it all: proof of identity forms, terms and clauses, non-disclosure agreements, all of which, if she accepted, Marina would be obliged to sign on the spot.

She sat back in her chair, staring at the offer and musing upon it. Ten million euros was the kind of sum that would be life-changing for Marina, even though it wasn’t remotely within the parameters Mateo’s father had outlined for her and which possibly she had originally been aiming for. But ten million euros? Depending on how she chose to live, she could afford never to work again, to buy a place, travel . . . It was enough money to play with but not so much as to be dangerous; she could still keep her identity with a number of this size. It wouldn’t swallow her up and define her as it did to so many of her clients, like Lucy Santos for instance. As far as Charlotte was concerned, this offer would be the best thing that could ever happen to Marina Quincy but would she see that, or would her ambition render her blind to Charlotte’s persuasions? Would she see that the Mendozas were trying to buy her off cheaply?

Her phone rang and she picked it up on the second ring. ‘Charlotte Fairfax.’

‘Charlotte? It’s Katerina.’

‘Kat, hi. I was literally about to call you!’

‘Well I saw your office had called and I didn’t want to miss you. I know how quickly you come and go from places.’

‘Sadly true. How are you?’

‘Very well, darling. It is a lovely surprise to hear from you.’

‘I know, it’s been – what? Two years?’

‘More like five.’

‘Five? Really?’ Charlotte tutted. ‘God, where did that go?’ But they both knew.

Katerina laughed, her voice husky from a lifetime of cigarettes and rioja. Everything about her was flamboyant – her hair, her wardrobe, her zest for living. ‘Tell me, how have you been?’