The Account. Roderick Mann

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      ‘A slight exaggeration.’

      ‘But you’re not married?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Involved, I’m sure?’

      Uncomfortable at the questioning she hesitated before replying. ‘I am involved,’ she said, more sharply than she intended. She met his gaze challengingly. ‘What about you? Where is your wife, Mr Brand?’

      ‘Robert, please. My wife is in Mexico. We have a place there.’

      ‘She doesn’t travel with you?’

      ‘Rarely. She dislikes hotels. She prefers to stay in Acapulco.’

      ‘I’ve been invited to speak there. At a conference.’

      ‘You’ve never been?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘You must go. It’s quite spectacular.’

      ‘But you prefer New York?’

      ‘My company is headquartered in Manhattan. And I have a house there.’

      ‘Where do you keep your art? In Acapulco?’

      ‘Can’t keep valuable paintings there. Too much heat and humidity.’

      ‘It sounds as if you don’t see much of your wife?’

      ‘No,’ Brand said. He seemed relieved when the waiter came to take their plates.

      Over coffee they talked about London.

      ‘I don’t really dislike it as much as I make out,’ Brand said. ‘I just like to provoke Bobby Koenig. He gets so mad at me.’ He chuckled. ‘Actually I think it’s a fine city.’

      ‘Does Bobby always take the bait?’

      ‘Swallows it whole,’ Brand smiled.

      ‘I love this city,’ Julia said, ‘always have.’

      ‘You live in town?’

      ‘Near Regent’s Park,’ she said. ‘One of those old mansion flats.’

      ‘I know the area,’ he said. ‘Last year I rented a house overlooking the park.’

      ‘Then you must know London well?’

      ‘Fairly well. I’m here a lot.’

      ‘Then I hope we’ll see you back at the Burlington.’

      ‘Have no doubts about that, Julia,’ Brand said.

      She held his gaze for a moment, then glanced at her watch.

      ‘Ye gods,’ she said. ‘Look at the time. I’ve got to be getting back.’ She jumped to her feet.

      ‘That’s too bad,’ Brand said. ‘I was enjoying myself.’

      ‘So was I,’ Julia said. ‘And I learned a lot about Canaletto.’

      He stood up. ‘I think I’ll stay for a second cup. Will you be all right?’

      ‘Of course.’

      As she walked along Jermyn Street to look for a taxi Julia’s thoughts were jumbled. Clearly the conversation in the gallery had been designed to impress her. He was showing off. Though she had to admit that listening to a man contemplating buying a work of art for two million pounds was a lot more fascinating than seeing someone dithering over a twenty-pound sweater at Marks and Spencer.

      But what was the point? Was he hoping to recruit her for one of his New York hotels? If so it was an odd way to go about it. If he was interested in her personally – and when a man wanted to know if you were involved he was usually asking: How about me? – then he was out of luck. She had no intention of getting involved with a married man, even an attractive one like Robert Brand. She had to admit he was charismatic. He positively exuded sex appeal. Dammit, she thought, why are those sort of men always married?

      She looked at her watch again. It was a quarter past three. She was very late. She stood in the centre of St James’s Street on a traffic island, praying for a taxi.

      It was 3.45 by the time Julia got back to the hotel. As she walked into her office a woman rose to greet her.

      ‘Good afternoon, Miss Lang. I’m Chantal Ricci.’

      ‘Yes?’ Julia was annoyed. Visitors were never allowed into her office without an appointment, but Emma was not at her desk. ‘What can I do for you?’

      Dark-haired and quite astonishingly pretty, Chantal Ricci was wearing a fitted double-breasted blue jacket and straight navy skirt. She looked chic and elegant.

      ‘I just wanted to introduce myself.’ She had a very slight accent. ‘I’m starting work on the new magazine for the Burlington.’

      ‘What magazine?’

      ‘Mr Moscato didn’t tell you?’

      ‘I know nothing about it.’

      ‘I believe the final decision was only made this week. The Sultan is excited at the idea.’

      ‘Is he now?’ Julia tried to cover her irritation by glancing through the pile of messages on her desk.

      ‘I’m surprised we haven’t met before,’ Chantal said. ‘I was deputy editor of Trends for three years.’

      ‘What will you be doing on the magazine?’

      ‘Editing it.’ Chantal got to her feet. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to say hello. I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I have an office here in the executive corridor.’

      ‘I didn’t know one was free.’

      ‘I believe it belonged to the Director of Sales and Marketing.’

      Julia frowned. ‘Bryan Penrose?’

      ‘He’s moved down the corridor. It’s more convenient, apparently.’

      Julia stared at the young woman standing before her. Twenty-five, tops, she decided. Stunning-looking. Obviously very sure of herself. You didn’t need great talent or ability to produce a hotel magazine – many hotels, particularly those in Italy and Asia, had them – but you needed some. She felt vaguely upset. Producing a magazine for the Burlington would not necessarily have come under her aegis but she felt she should have been consulted.

      ‘How often is this magazine to be produced?’

      ‘Twice a year.’

      ‘That won’t keep you very busy.’

      ‘Mr Moscato has other things for me to do as well,’ she said. ‘He feels СКАЧАТЬ