Priceless (29 page)

“You could burn it,” suggested Nat.

“But it’s important from a sociological point of view,” Carrie jumped in, filled with horror at the thought of such a rare and precious manuscript going up in flames in the smoking room
of The Grand Cru
.

“I won’t burn it. I understand it has its worth. But the sooner it is not in my possession, the better,” said Randon. “I only hope that de Sade’s soul will benefit in some way from the good I am able to do with the money I raise with the sale of this, this … horror …”

Randon dropped the velvet cover back onto the cabinet as though the sight of the Marquis de Sade’s feverish handwriting were actually hurting his eyes.

“Well. I think that’s enough for now, don’t you? I don’t want to subject you to this a moment longer than I have to. Let’s go back into the boardroom and discuss the business of having this collection dispersed.”

It was time at last for the auctioneers to make their presentations. Nat flipped a coin and Carrie found herself having to go first. It wasn’t ideal. Especially when she realized that Randon really was going to have her present her case in front of Nat and Lizzy. She opened her laptop and connected it up so that her slides would appear on the
enormous digital screen that hung where a movie screen had hung in
The Grand Cru’
s years as a party ship. It went without a hitch, but Carrie was infuriated by Nat’s patronizing nods when she described the service that Ehrenpreis could provide a man like Randon.

“Our London office is small,” she concluded. “Just the size of the Old Masters department at Ludbrook’s, as I’m sure Mr. Wilde will tell you. But I believe that a very personal level of service is what is required here. Though, of course, if we need to, we are able to call on experts all over the world to help create the exact strategy needed for each individual item in the collection.”

It was Lizzy, not Nat, who set up Ludbrook’s IT arrangement, but Nat delivered the spiel. He focused heavily on the history of the house. Ludbrook’s had been in existence for many hundreds of years. They had disposed of property belonging to some of the most famous people in world history. When people thought of an auction house, Ludbrook’s was the name that sprang to their lips. They had an international reach. They were trusted. Nat reeled off some of their recent sales results as Lizzy flashed up graphs showing prices expected and prices achieved.

Carrie was both impressed and depressed by the expertise with which Nat made Ludbrook’s case.

He finished by letting Randon know, “You can be sure that your collection will have my personal attention, of course. I would be delighted to be a
hands-on
part of the team that takes care of this project.”

Randon laughed gamely at the reference to “hands on.”

“Any questions?” Nat asked.

“I don’t think so. Thank you all,” said Randon. “You have given me plenty to think about. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do this afternoon. I will instruct
my captain to arrange for your return to the mainland forthwith.”

Without shaking anybody’s hand, Randon left the room.

That was it. The end of the audience with the great man. Carrie, Lizzy, and Nat remained. Not knowing what they were supposed to do next.

Nat studied the glass of fizzing water handed to him by a stewardess as they waited for the tender to be prepared. “The man owns a champagne house. You’d think he could do better than this. Get me a slice of lemon, would you, Lizzy?” said Nat. “I’d get up for it myself, but this boat is moving way too much for me.”

Lizzy jumped at his command.

Carrie rolled her eyes.

CHAPTER 41

N
at did not get his sea legs even by the time Randon was ready to send his visitors back to the Cap d’Antibes in the Riva. If anything, the return journey was harder. The sea was choppier than it had been when the party had ventured out in the morning. Despite his conviction that he and Lizzy had swung the deal for Ludbrook’s, Nat was gray-faced as he climbed into the small boat, and was positively green again by the time they had been at sea for five minutes.

“Look at the horizon,” Lizzy advised again, while rubbing his back.

Nat pushed her hand away.

Carrie, sitting on the other side of the deck and rather enjoying the sea breeze, couldn’t disguise a smile. Seeing Nat Wilde laid so low was the only high point of her day so far. She gazed out on the approaching land, grateful also that Nat was too busy puking over the side to gloat over how much more positively Randon had seemed to react to the Ludbrook’s presentation. Carrie still couldn’t quite believe that Randon had made them pitch head-to-head.

At last the boat arrived at the jetty for the Hotel du Cap. Randon’s man jumped out and offered Carrie his hand. She rested her own hand lightly upon it and stepped down onto the jetty with the grace that suggested a lifetime of sailing holidays in Nantucket. (In reality, there had been just three since she’d moved to Manhattan and reinvented herself.) Then she sashayed up the jetty to the steps, as though she were on a catwalk. She might as well have been. She knew that the people in the restaurant above would be watching eagerly to see who was arriving. She didn’t want to disappoint.

Lizzy followed Carrie onshore. She was equally self-assured. She really
had
spent much of her childhood on boating holidays, though in the chilly Solent rather than the Med. But Lizzy was absolutely unconscious about how good she looked right then. All her thoughts were with Nat, who, having made the crossing without actually dying despite all his protestations that the end was nigh, was now groaning that he couldn’t possibly be expected to stand up while the boat was still rocking.

“But it won’t ever stop rocking,” Lizzy explained to him as Randon’s man looked on in amusement. “It’s on the sea. Come on, Nat. The sooner you’re out of there, the sooner you’ll start to feel better again. We’ll sit by the pool and have a cocktail! How about that?”

Nat did not look tempted. Randon’s man got back onto the boat and tried to help him to his feet.

“For fuck’s sake.” Nat shook him off. “I’m not a fucking invalid.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I really need you to disembark. My captain has radioed to say that he requires all his crew back on deck within the hour. Weekly briefing. There’s really nothing to it, sir. I’ll help you along the passerelle. It’s completely solid. It isn’t going anywhere.”

“I know,” Nat exploded. He stood up and rushed for the passerelle. And Lizzy and Randon’s crew member watched in shock and surprise as he stumbled while getting onto the gangplank in a hurry and ended up falling into the water.

“Oh God.” Lizzy covered her mouth to hide her smile.

From the restaurant above came a round of applause. Carrie paused in her ascent to add her own congratulations to Nat, who came up spluttering, a thin strand of seaweed dangling from his elegant nose.

Nat’s graceless disembarkation did nothing for his mood. He went straight to the bedroom, ignoring the hotel staff who tried to give him a towel as he passed through the lobby. Once in the room, he turned his fury on Lizzy as she tried to help him out of his wet jacket.

“Should I get this cleaned?” she asked. “I’ll call room service now.”

“Don’t call anyone,” said Nat. “And don’t do anything. Just go and sit by the pool or something.”

“What? And leave you here like this?”

“Yes,” said Nat. “Go. I want to be on my own.”

Reluctantly Lizzy did as she was told. She knew from a hundred self-help books, read on those long lonely
nights when Nat couldn’t see her, that there was absolutely no point trying to persuade him that things really weren’t so bad. Not right then. Nat had gone into his cave. The only thing Lizzy could do was sit and wait for him to come back out again. And she might as well do that by the hotel’s fabulous pool.

It was a busy weekend at the Hotel du Cap. All day long helicopters had been landing on the lawn in front of the main house as movie stars and their minders had arrived in preparation for the Cannes Film Festival, which was to take place the following week. It made it even more impressive that Randon had somehow managed to secure three rooms at the hotel on such short notice. Lizzy wondered who had been bumped.

But it also meant that the area around the swimming pool was absolutely packed. Seeing the sun-loungers covered by so much famously fabulous flesh, Lizzy almost turned on her heel and went straight back inside. She would just read her book in her room while Nat slept off his bad mood in his. She had no desire to stretch out in her white and gold two-piece next to a bona fide Bond girl. Suddenly she felt very untoned and much too pale.

It was too late to run, however, for among the perfect Hollywood bodies was an unusually perfect body from the world of the auction houses. Carrie Klein pulled her sunglasses down her nose and looked over them at Lizzy. She smiled and nodded.

Damn.

There was no pretending that she hadn’t spotted Carrie’s greeting. Even worse, Carrie was sitting next to the one and only unoccupied sun-bed on the bright white pool terrace. One of the pool boys was already advancing toward the sun-bed with a towel, preparing it for Lizzy’s arrival.

“Deep breath,” Lizzy told herself. She would have to sit next to Carrie Klein. If she didn’t, she would look rude or frightened or both.

“That was some boat trip,” said Carrie when Lizzy sat down.

“Yes,” said Lizzy. “And what a collection.”

“Indeed. But he’s quite the perfectionist, old Mathieu Randon. Whichever one of our houses gets the job is going to have its work cut out.”

Lizzy nodded.

“How’s your boss?”

“He’s making some calls,” Lizzy lied.

“Really? It’s the weekend now, isn’t it?”

“I know. But when you’re working on something this important, weekends don’t really count, do they?”

“Good point,” said Carrie. “But I am making use of this rare moment of downtime to enjoy this pool. Isn’t that a Bond girl over there?”

Lizzy pulled a face. “Makes me wish I’d spent three months in a gym before I came out here.”

“Nonsense,” said Carrie, looking her up and down. “You’ve got a lovely body. I’m sure Nat thinks so.”

Lizzy blushed to her roots. If Carrie hadn’t known that Lizzy was shagging her boss before she’d made that crack, she certainly would now. Carrie confirmed that she knew exactly what was going on with a little snort of amusement.

“He’s not … It’s not …,” Lizzy began.

“It’s not like that? Trust me,” said Carrie, “it is. I have two things to say to you. The first is that if you’re sleeping with Nat Wilde to advance your career, then you’re wasting your time. The second is that if you’re sleeping with Nat Wilde because you’ve fallen in love with him and you’re hoping that you’ll somehow fuck him into loving
you too, then you’re absolutely wasting your time. This means nothing to him. You know that. You’re not the first and you won’t be the last.”

Lizzy was left gasping. Carrie handed her a glass of water.

“You look like you need this.”

“But … but …” Lizzy struggled to form her rebuttal.

“I watched you very closely today. I took a sneak peak at your notes. I know that you did the bulk of the work for that presentation. Nat Wilde is cute but he’s lazy. Always has been. He wouldn’t wipe his own ass if he could delegate the job to you.”

Lizzy’s mouth dropped open.

“I apologize for being so blunt,” said Carrie. She pulled out a compact and examined her lipstick as if her outburst of crudeness might have skewed her lip liner. She reapplied a slick of gloss, then turned toward Lizzy and fixed her with a serious look.

“What I’m saying is, you’re good enough without him. You’ve got the knowledge and the talent to make it in our business without having to fuck the boss. And what you have to remember is that if you fuck one boss, it will be noted by your next boss and almost certainly used against you. These things never stay secret for long. Far better not to fuck any of them. Once you capitulate, you lose all your power. Use your beauty—and you are beautiful—properly. Dangle it as a bait by all means. But keep your career out of the bedroom. And make sure that your work is always without fault. And that when you do a good job, you get credit for it. I can see it now. If Randon gives Ludbrook’s the consignment, Nat will be the one who gets the recognition. You’ll be relegated to typist. Cocktail?”

Carrie raised her hand, and a waiter appeared. She ordered two glasses of Champagne Arsenault.

“It’s much better than Maison Randon. We’ll put them on Nat’s room,” she said wickedly.

Lizzy shook her head. “I really don’t know if I …”

“Your loyalty to your boss is impressive but also heartbreaking. I’m not saying this to you because I want to spoil whatever you might have going on, Lizzy. If what you guys have is true love, then I’ll raise a toast to that. I just hate to see any bright young woman being misled. I know what it’s like. You see all the prettier girls getting ahead. Girls like Sarah Jane Kirby. Head through a Reynolds.” Carrie smiled. “That must have hurt. Anyway, I know how it seems. You think that nobody cares about your ability to actually do the job, so when your handsome boss beckons … Nothing will come of it.”