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fetched a cup and poured him a coffee. ‘Let’s talk. I can eat and work at the same time.’

      ‘I see I’ve hired the right person. The hotel needs development, the sooner the better.’

      ‘You spoke of making it like La Couronne, and there are several avenues that it would be profitable to explore. The success of your Paris hotel may be because of all the—’ She launched into a list gleaned from her investigation of the hotel’s website, adding, ‘You could probably do some of these things more easily without the problems that arose in—’ Here she made use of knowledge found on a business site that spilled the beans about some interesting battles.

      ‘That man who caused you all the trouble didn’t really give up, did he?’ she asked. ‘I gather he’s still complaining about—’

      Marcel listened to her with raised eyebrows. She could tell that he was impressed. Good. That was how she wanted him. She was taking charge.

      ‘People who come to the London hotel should sense the connection with Paris,’ she added. ‘It’ll be useful when you’re ready to expand further.’

      ‘That’s looking rather far ahead.’

      ‘But it’s what you need to do. Eventually your hotels will be all over Europe, with your trademark. This one could be The Crown Hotel, and the one you’ll open in Italy can be La Corona. Spain as well. Then it’ll be Die Krone in Germany, De Kroon in Holland. Czech and Slovak will probably have to wait a while—’

      ‘You don’t say!’ he exclaimed with a grin of wry appreciation.

      ‘But when their time comes it’ll be Koruna.’ ‘You’ve got this all worked out. And I thought I was organised.’

      ‘I like to be prepared. Aren’t I supposed to be?’

      ‘Yes, indeed.’ He added wryly, ‘But how often are people what they’re supposed to be?’

      ‘People, rarely. But places can be exactly as planned, if you tackle the problem properly’

      ‘Quite right.’ He raised his coffee cup in her direction. ‘And with your help that’s what will happen.’

      She clinked her cup against his. ‘Now I must dash and get ready.’

      When she’d gone Marcel looked around the apartment, surprised to find it so small and plain. Her fortunes might have dived over the years but a woman in her present position surely didn’t need to live among second-hand furniture and walls that looked as though they needed repapering.

      From the bathroom he could hear the sound of the shower, which made it awkward that the phone should ring at that moment. Since there was no way he could interrupt her now, he lifted the receiver.

      ‘Is Jane there?’ came a man’s voice.

      ‘She’s occupied right now. Can I say who called?’

      ‘Tell her it’s Dave, and I need to talk to her quickly.’

      The line went dead.

      He replaced the receiver, frowning.

      She emerged a few minutes later, fully dressed and with her hair swept back.

      ‘Dave wants you to call him,’ Marcel told her. ‘It sounded urgent.’

      She had seized the receiver before he even finished speaking, leaving him wondering even more curiously about Dave and the hold he evidently had over her.

      He tried not to eavesdrop, or so he told himself, but certain phrases couldn’t be shut out.

      ‘Dave, it’s all right, I’ll take care of it. I can’t talk now. I’ll call you back later.’ She hung up.

      Marcel didn’t speak. He wondered if he was being fanciful in imagining that she had ended the conversation quickly because he was there.

      His mind went back years, to their time together. When had she ever spoken to himself in that placating tone? Never.

      So what did this man have to make her subservient? Vast wealth?

      No, she didn’t live like a women with a rich admirer.

      Good looks? Other attractions? Could his personal ‘skills’ make her cry out for more?

      ‘Perhaps it’s time we were going,’ he said heavily.

      She turned to him and her expression was as efficiently cheerful as a mask.

      ‘Tell me something first,’ she said briskly. ‘Are they expecting you at the Alton?’

      ‘No, I think I’ll see more if I take them by surprise.’

      ‘You’ll see more if you take a room incognito. But I expect they’d recognise you, so it probably wouldn’t work.’

      ‘I doubt if anyone would know me. Are you serious?’

      ‘You said you wanted to take them by surprise. There’s no better way than this.’

      ‘I suppose not,’ he said slowly. ‘I wonder—’

      ‘Leave it to me.’ She went to the phone and dialled the Alton’s number.

      ‘Hello, do you have a room free today? You do? Excellent. What kind of price? All prices? Really. Run them past me, single rooms and suites.’

      As they were given to her, she recited them aloud, watching Marcel’s expression of wry understanding. The Alton wasn’t doing fantastic business.

      ‘I’ll take the best available suite,’ he said quietly.

      ‘What name?’

      ‘My real name. I won’t have anyone saying I deceived them.’

      ‘Mr Marcel Falcon,’ she said into the phone. ‘He’ll be there today.’ She hung up.

      He gave her a glance of grim appreciation. ‘You’re a wicked woman, Mrs Henshaw—I’m glad to say.’

      ‘It has its uses,’ she observed lightly.

      ‘So I’ll return to the Gloriana to check out. You’d better come with me, then we’ll go on to the Alton. I’ll wait for you downstairs.’

      Once down in the street he glanced up at her window but there was no sign of her. He knew exactly what she was doing—calling Dave now that they could talk privately.

      Whoever Dave was!

      In this he was wrong. Cassie didn’t return Dave’s call immediately because there was no need. She knew what he wanted. Instead she went online, gave some instructions, shut the computer down and sent him a text saying, All taken care of.

      Then she pushed Dave aside. Only Marcel occupied her thoughts now.

      Against all reason, she was certain that he recognised her, but only against his will. And he refused to admit it to her.

      But he could never deny it to himself. Instinct told her that. Try as he might, Marcel was fighting with Marcel, and it would be a losing battle on both sides.

      That told her all she needed to know.

      ‘Right,’ she said to Mrs Henshaw in the mirror. ‘Let’s see if we can give him a run for his money.’ She smiled. ‘And maybe—just maybe—he’ll give me a run for mine. That could be—interesting.’

      She could almost have sworn Mrs Henshaw nodded.

      The Alton Hotel had a disconsolate air.

      ‘It used to be the London home of a duke,’ she observed as they drew up in the car park, ‘which is why it was built on such grand lines, but he had to sell it off, and the developers who bought it couldn’t afford to complete their plans.’

      Checking in went without a hitch. Nobody recognised Marcel and they were able to proceed upstairs to a luxurious suite of

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