his brightest smile so that she wouldn’t suspect the sadness that overtook him at the thought of her bleak life.
It would never improve, he knew. He could only do his best to make her remaining time as contented as possible. But it wasn’t in his power to give her the happiness she craved.
Varushka watched the car as it vanished into the distance.
‘Oh Nina, it’s so wonderful,’ she said. ‘He’s going to see his father in Paris, and bring Amos back to see me.’
‘If he can,’ Nina said carefully.
‘Oh yes, he will. He said Amos would definitely return to see me in a few days.’ She sighed ecstatically. ‘He gave me his promise.’
CHAPTER ONE
PERDITA GUESSED WHO was here as soon as she heard the frenzied knock on her door. Sure enough, it was Jim, a nice young man who considered himself her boyfriend, standing there, agitated.
‘Perdita, you can’t do this to me. It’s not fair.’
‘Hush, don’t shout. Come inside.’
He came rushing in and threw himself onto the sofa, growling, ‘How do you expect me to feel when I’ve been looking forward to our time together and you dump me?’ He held up his cellphone. ‘By text, for Pete’s sake!’
‘I didn’t dump you, I just said I can’t get away for our little trip next week. Something’s come up. I’m sorry, Jim. I’ll make it up to you another time.’
She spoke sweetly but Jim wasn’t placated. Perdita Davis was a little too good at this, winning a man’s heart, backing off then soothing him with a beguiling smile.
She could get away with it because she was gorgeous, with long blonde hair, devastating blue eyes, a figure slender enough for the most demanding clothes and a lot of impish charm. That was the trouble, he thought crossly. She knew exactly how far she could go.
‘I have to dash off soon,’ she said. ‘There’s a story coming up that I just can’t miss.’
Perdita was a freelance journalist with a talent for discovering scoops and exploiting them to the full.
‘So where is this earth-shattering story?’ Jim seethed.
‘Paris. I’ve just booked my room at La Couronne.’
‘That’s the most expensive hotel in Paris.’
‘I know. I managed to get the very last room. It’s been filling up fast since the rumours started.’
‘What rumours?’
‘The wedding. Marcel Falcon is getting married in a few days.’
‘And who the blazes is Marcel Falcon?’
‘He’s the owner of La Couronne, but that’s not the point. His half-brother is Travis Falcon. You must have heard of him, surely?’
‘Sure. Big TV star.’
‘He’s been in the news a lot recently because of this new woman in his life. Apparently she’s not like the slinky, sexy “bits of fun” he’s usually seen with. She’s actually respectable, and everyone’s dying to see how it will turn out. My contact in Paris says Travis will be at the wedding, and she’ll be with him. I’ve simply got to be there and get close enough to see them together. Plus, of course, all the others.’
‘What others?’
‘The rest of the Falcon family. The father is Amos Falcon, a big noise in financial circles. He’ll almost certainly be in Paris. And so will his other sons.’
‘How many has he got?’
‘Five. By four different mothers. There’s Darius, who’s English and also a big noise financially. His brother Jackson, who does those television documentaries. Marcel, who’s French, Travis, who’s American, and Leonid, Russian.’
‘All those nationalities? Amos Falcon gets around, doesn’t he?’
‘He did once. He’s in his seventies now and he lives in Monaco with his most recent wife. He seems respectable but I’ll bet he isn’t really. The leopard doesn’t change its spots.’
‘But the place will be bulging with press. Why bother when you’ll just be one of a crowd?’
She gave him an ironic glance which told him exactly what he could do with that idea. Perdita was never simply one of a crowd.
‘They’re not marrying in a public church,’ she said. ‘La Couronne has its own chapel, so they can control who gets in. The press will be kept at a distance. That’s why I need to be in the hotel as a guest. If I play my cards right I might even get invited to the wedding.’
Jim gave a hoot of laughter. ‘In your dreams! You might contrive to sneak in, but even you couldn’t manage to get invited.’
‘Wanna bet?’
‘No, I guess you could do it if anyone could. You know, one day you’ll meet a guy who’ll play you at your own game.’
‘Nobody knows what my game is,’ she pointed out, all wide-eyed innocence.
‘He will. Then you’ll be sorry.’
‘Maybe. Or maybe I’ll end up enjoying it. The more of a battle there is, the more fun it is to win.’
She’d said everything, Jim realised. Whoever could beat her at her own game, it wouldn’t be himself. She’d told him that, kindly but finally.
‘What time’s your flight?’ he asked.
‘Three hours. I was just about to call a taxi.’
‘No need. I’ll take you to the airport.’
‘Oh Jim, that’s so nice of you. How can any man be so sweet and forgiving?’
Good question, he thought wryly. Despite being aggrieved at how little he mattered to her, he still found himself eager to serve her.
But that was Perdita, he sighed. She could have that effect on a man.
He carried her bags down to the car, made sure she was comfortable, and headed for the airport.
‘If this wedding’s being kept under wraps, how come you found out?’ he asked when they were halfway there.
‘I got a tip-off from someone who owed me a favour.’
He should have known. That too was Perdita’s way. There was always someone who owed her a favour.
At the airport he saw her to Check-In and was rewarded by a peck on the cheek.
‘Thank you, Jim dear. I’ll be in touch.’
But she didn’t say when, he noticed. She would have forgotten him by the time she was in her seat.
Here he did Perdita an injustice. She was sorry to have hurt Jim, however unintentionally, and thought about him until the plane was in the air. Only then did she turn her mind to the job she was about to do.
It was nearly midnight when they reached Charles de Gaulle Airport, and she emerged from Customs to find a middle-aged woman waiting for her. This was Hortense, a French businesswoman with extensive contacts. She and Perdita liked each other, and also had a flourishing business relationship based on the exchange of favours. After enthusiastic greetings they headed for the car.
‘I don’t know how to thank you,’ Perdita said as they made their way towards Paris.
‘No need. I owed you. It was just a lucky chance. The company I work for is organising the wedding.’
‘Why is it all being done so hurriedly?’
‘Rumour says Marcel is afraid of losing Cassie. When she agreed to marry him he moved fast before she could