The Paris Secret (11 page)

‘Gertie? Who is Gertie?’ Natascha asked, baffled.

Flora coloured up. ‘I meant the ostrich.’

‘You have given it a name?’

‘Of course not. Don’t be so ridiculous. Gertie is an English slang word for ostrich.’

A moment pulsed in silence as the two women stared at each other.

‘No, it isn’t!’ Natascha cried, bursting out laughing.

Flora felt the red thread of her temper snap. ‘I said, get off her!’ she cried back, grabbing Natascha’s nearest arm and pulling it away hard, so that the girl lost her balance
and fell sideways. Unfortunately, her legs remained tightly gripped round the bird’s neck and Gertie toppled with her, onto her.

Natascha began shouting and swearing furiously in French but she wouldn’t let go of the bird, even now, her legs gripping it even tighter.

‘I said, let go!’ Flora shouted, pulling at her arms. ‘You’ll break her!’

‘Get off me!’ Natascha cried, beginning to scream as though she was being murdered.

‘Then let go!’

‘What the fuck is going on?’

The voice made them both jump, stop and turn. At the sight of the man standing in the doorway, Natascha went limp and stopped struggling. For a moment, Flora thought it was the neighbour from
the apartment across the street, but this man was taller, leaner, with shaggy black hair and deep-set grey eyes, a squared-off chin and bevelled cheekbones. He looked like a Viking and Flora felt
herself go limp too, albeit seemingly for a very different reason.

‘Xav!’ Natascha cried, beginning to struggle again and saying something that to Flora’s ear was incomprehensible (though in fact she felt she’d lost the power of speech,
full stop, not just her command of the French language). Flora stepped back as Xavier crossed the room and effortlessly lifted the stuffed bird off his sister, freeing her.

Natascha scrambled to her feet, dishevelled and furious. Flora had no idea what she was saying to him; she felt the rug had been pulled out from under her again. Two shocks in ten minutes was
not what she needed on three hours’ sleep and only a sushi snack. She took another step back, away from the two of them, feeling distinctly outnumbered.

Xavier turned to look at her. ‘You are from the fine-art agency.’ It wasn’t so much a question as a statement.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said quietly, trying to regain some dignity, pushing her hair back from her face and checking her buttons – some of them had been ripped off in
the fracas and she tried to hold her blouse together.

‘And you have told my sister here that you are in charge of this collection?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘So then why was the door to the apartment wide open? Anyone could have walked in here.’ He gestured with one arm towards the cone of light pooling in the hall.

Flora stared back at him in horror. She had left her post. Left the apartment wide open. He was right – anyone could have just walked in; he had, after all. ‘I – I – it
wasn’t my fault. She was about to start smoking in here. I had no choice but to stop her.’

She looked across at Natascha, only to find the girl doing exactly, defiantly that –
again
!

‘No!’ Flora shouted, lunging forward and swatting the cigarette out of Natascha’s pout. ‘How many times do I have to tell you? You cannot smoke in here!’ she cried,
just as Natascha swung an arm and hit Flora smack in the face.

Flora gasped, her hand flying to her cheek, before the red mist descended and she slapped her back. Harder.

It was Natascha’s turn to gasp but before she could retaliate – again – Xavier stepped between them both. Natascha instead slapped Xavier on the arm as though this was some
sort of attack command.

Flora retreated a step.

‘Stop it! Both of you!’ he demanded.

Both women fell silent, breathless and pumped, their hair and eyes wild, cheeks furiously red and marked with the other’s handprints, their shirts torn.

‘Apologize to my sister,’ Xavier demanded, glowering down at Flora.

She stared back at him, hardly able to believe he was serious, knowing it was futile to expect anything different. What was it Ines had said? Cokehead? Playboy? She took in his pale blue
crumpled linen shirt, barely buttoned up like his sister’s (well, hers too now) and the tails hanging out, beige cargo shorts, suede moccasins. At first glance, he didn’t look like a
society player, a multimillionaire’s scion, but she had a sharp eye from years of working closely with the super-rich and she knew the shoes were Prada, the shirt Zegna, the watch on his
wrist a top-of-the-range Breitling.

‘Go to hell.’ The words were out before she even knew they were hers. She almost jumped at the sound of them. Had she really just said that to her clients’ son?

Something mercurial darted through his eyes, like silver fish in a dark pool, and she knew she’d crossed a line from which there was no turning back. None of this was her fault, but she
wasn’t helping herself now either; it was as though she had stepped outside herself in their presence and become someone wild. Feral.

She felt her breath hitch as his glare blackened – surprise hardening into contempt. As the only girl and the baby of her family, she had grown up adored and yes, indulged. Throughout
school and university she had always found it easy to make friends and keep them, boys and then men fell for her readily and she understood, without ever consciously considering it, that she was
universally admired. So to encounter animosity as naked as this running through this man’s eyes was an unpleasant rarity. What would it yield by tomorrow? Revenge? She could well imagine what
form it would take.

‘Do you want to try that again?’ he asked, folding his arms, seemingly growing an inch.

Flora tossed her head back, barely able to recognize herself. It was all over now anyway. ‘Why? Didn’t you hear me the first time?’

Oh God! What was she
doing
? But she couldn’t stop herself. She felt almost possessed by defiance. And she strode out of the apartment, her heels ringing on the wooden floor, her
heart leaping in her chest. She had just got herself fired. Spectacularly so! The consolation that she would never have to see Xavier Vermeil or his sister again was scant indeed.

Ines giggled at her own joke and swung the hammock a bit harder. The sky was a smoky red above them, the wall of bamboo shoots on the far side of the roof terrace bending
gently in the breeze, a flock of starlings swooping and pitching above the rooftops before turning as one like a page, and heading for the fiery river. It was a stunning sunset and Flora, lying
beside her, tried to enjoy the moment, drowsy from a full tummy, her hand weighted with an almost-empty wine glass, but her mind was agitated and nervy, and Ines’s voice kept fading from her
ear as she replayed over and over this afternoon’s showdown.

‘Hey, you want to hear some gossip?’ Ines asked, bringing her back to the present.

‘Always.’

‘Guess who came into the boutique today?’

‘Can’t.’ Flora took another sip of her rosé.

‘Lucia Cantarello.’

Flora hesitated, waiting for the punchline. What was so interesting – or unusual – about a model buying lingerie?

‘She was buying for her girlfriend.’

Flora frowned. She was vaguely aware that the model was engaged to some Russian billionaire. ‘Who’s the lucky girl?’ she asked dutifully but she was already falling back into
her memories again – Natascha’s palm at her face; Xavier’s entitled arrogance as he’d stared down at her . . .

‘Flor?’

‘Huh? What . . . ?’

‘It is a scandal,
non
?’ Ines asked, a conspiratorial smile on her face as she cupped the bottom of her wine glass.

She tried to rally, get back into the conversation. ‘It’s a mess. And what’s worse, I bet that’s exactly what she loves about it – the drama and chaos.’

‘Well, to be honest, there is a lot to be said for high passion,’ Ines said with a wink.

‘What? Screaming fights and crying all night? No, thanks. I can’t think of anything worse, all the
drama
.’

Ines patted her arm, a bemused grin on her lips. ‘I hope that when love finds you, it will be as straightforward as you expect.’

‘Why wouldn’t it be? It’s perfectly simple – you love someone or you don’t. There’s no grey area.’

‘Love is
completely
grey! There are no absolutes, no certainties. Sometimes love cannot be stopped even when it is wrong. And what if you end up falling for someone you don’t
want
to love?’

Flora looked at her as though she was mad. ‘Well, you just wouldn’t.’

‘Why not? How could you stop it? Sometimes the chemistry is just too much. Look at me and Bruno. Everything is opposite – our parents, our childhoods, our jobs, our
dreams.’

‘That’s different. You’re the classic Yin/Yang, Opposites Attract story – you two are made for each other, everyone can see that.’

‘Not everyone. Lots of people think he’s with me for my money.’

‘They won’t now he’s got that contract with Hawk. He’s hitting the big league and it’s without any help from you – no contacts, no loans.’

‘I hope you’re right,’ Ines sighed. ‘He’s really nervous about the showcase tonight.’

‘He always is, but he’ll smash it.’

The sky was darkening rapidly now and although the breeze was picking up, it was still warm. Flora sensed that thunderstorms were on the way. They drifted into silence again, Ines’s legs
kicking out like a swimmer’s, keeping the hammock swaying. Flora heard her hair rustle against the fabric sling as she turned to face her.

‘Flo, are you OK? You’re so quiet tonight.’

Flora bit her lip. ‘Actually, no. I think I just lost my job.’

Ines gasped. ‘But how?’

Flora grimaced, hiding her face with her hands. She didn’t even know where to start with it all – no one came out of it well. ‘I may have slightly slapped Natascha Vermeil in
the face.’

Ines almost fell backwards out of the hammock. ‘You did
what
?’ she screeched, clearly delighted. ‘Do you have any idea how many people want to do that to that girl?
People will be lining up to shake you by the hand.’

‘She hit me first!’ Flora tried to justify, before blowing out through her cheeks. ‘Oh Christ, what was I thinking? She’s my clients’ daughter! I don’t even
know what happened to me. I just . . . lost it with them.’

‘Them?’

‘The brother was there too. I told him to go to hell.’

‘Oh. My. God,’ Ines screeched, gripping her arm so tightly, she was sure it would bruise. ‘Tell me
everything
.’

Flora slumped further in the hammock and told her.

‘. . . So the Poison Princess was sitting on the
ostrich
?’ Ines repeated, when she’d finished.

Flora nodded.

‘And the Dark Prince walked in when you were fighting with her?’

Flora tried to smile at her friend’s dramatic names, but she couldn’t. They were too true. Ines was silent and after a few moments, Flora looked across at her, anxious at the horror
she’d see in her friend’s eyes.

Only, it wasn’t horror that she saw. Ines was sitting beside her with one hand clapped over her mouth, tears streaming from her eyes as she tried to stifle her laughter.

‘It’s not funny!’

‘Oh, but it is!’ Ines wailed, letting the hand drop and clutching her sides instead.

Flora waited, unamused, as Ines recovered herself. ‘You don’t understand. I’m going to get
fired
, Ines. The second Angus touches down in New York and gets my
messages—’ She checked her watch again. Angus would be landing in five and a half hours from now.

‘No, you won’t,’ Ines said definitively.

‘I will. They’ll say I assaulted her and insulted him. And I did!’

‘
Pah!
You think it will be the first time the parents have heard such stories from those two? That is
nothing
compared to what they usually deal with.’

‘Ines, they are my clients. I’m employed by the family – it’s only reasonable to expect that I would behave in a professional manner.’

‘Did they behave reasonably with you? Was Natascha reasonable when she drove off with you in the car?’

‘Well, no, but—’

‘And when she stuck her hand in your face?’

‘Well no, but—’

‘And how about when she deliberately defied you and then hit you? First.’

Flora shook her head. ‘Well, there’s no excuse for how I spoke to Xavier.’

‘He was completely unreasonable expecting you to apologize.’

‘He was defending his sister.’

‘Hey! Whose side are you on?’ Ines jogged her with her elbow. ‘. . . Or maybe I should not be surprised. Passions always run high around him.’

Flora’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Well, you’ve got to admit he is handsome,
non
?’

‘No, I don’t!’

‘
Non?
You don’t think so?’

‘You
do
? The man’s an arrogant, self-entitled, spoilt ego-maniac who clearly thinks the world owes him and his sister a living.’

‘I know! But that doesn’t mean he’s not completely gorgeous.’

‘He’s an arse.’

Nonplussed, Ines gave up with her tease and rolled forward to reach for the bottle of rosé, refilling both their glasses. ‘Well, I am sure you are making worse of it than it is.
Besides, they are not your only clients. Angus needs you more than he needs them.’

‘Two days ago I might have agreed with you, but if he had to choose now, he’d choose them. The Vermeils are suddenly much more valuable to him, not just in terms of commission but
exposure too. Once the news about this job gets out, it’s going to be picked up in papers
all
across the world, trust me.’

Ines rolled on the hammock so that she was facing inwards to Flora. ‘Why will it be in papers all over the world?’

‘Because the family owns an apartment that’s been locked up since the war. No one knew anything about it until three days ago.’

Ines’s mouth dropped open. ‘You are joking me?’

‘Nope. It’s a complete time capsule. That’s why they’ve called us in.’

‘Oh my God, what did you find in there?’ she asked intently. ‘No dead bodies, I hope.’