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‘It’s fine, thank you.’ Camille swallowed. The information was a surprise to her; she wasn’t sure if Nicolas would still attend the launch, and she could feel her pulse begin to race at the news – whether through excitement or anxiety, she couldn’t say. ‘I’ll contact him directly. And tomorrow’s trip?’

‘Everything’s confirmed, and all the details are taken care of. Though I do need to double-check with Torres Charters that they’re able to provide the vintage Dom Pérignon you requested.’

A thoughtful look flashed across Camille’s face. As part of the pre-show buzz, Camille Andre was taking the invited VIP guests on a yacht cruise, and Paulo’s parents’ company were providing the vessel. ‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll call directly.’

A flicker of a frown crossed René’s brow, but he wasn’t going to ask Camille twice. If she gave an instruction, he knew better than to question it. Instead, he nodded. ‘Very good.’

‘Thank you, René. That’ll be all for now.’

Discreetly, René slipped away, leaving Camille alone in her suite. He really was exceptional at his job, she thought admiringly. He’d been with her for many years now, and was hardworking, efficient and – most importantly – loyal. But Camille’s mind moved swiftly to other matters, and she sat down at her desk, picking up the phone and dialling a number.

‘Paulo? It’s Camille.’

‘Camille. Bonjour! Ça va?’

‘I’m well, thank you, Paulo,’ Camille said tartly, replying to him in Spanish. ‘I wanted to confirm the dozen cases of vintage Dom Pérignon for tomorrow’s trip. Have you been able to source it?’

‘It’s better if you phone the office, speak to my parents—’

‘I’m sure you can pass the message on,’ Camille replied smoothly. ‘And if you could tell them that we have a few extra guests coming. I’ve invited Catherine and Michael, along with the young actress who’s staying with them – Stephanie Moon.’

‘Great,’ Paulo said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘In fact, I’ll personally attend to ensure that everything runs smoothly on the day.’

‘And two more names for the list,’ Camille continued, ignoring his comment. ‘Isobel MacFarlane and Elle Mettier,’ she finished, grimacing as she said the final name. She hadn’t wanted to invite Lucas’s girlfriend – in Camille’s opinion, she was too much of a loose cannon to be around the high-profile guests. But Lucas had requested that she attend, explaining that she’d felt hurt by the lack of an invitation. And given that Camille had given her such short shrift over her repeated requests to model for Camille Andre, this could be a timely peace offering. After all, Elle might one day be her daughter-in-law – perish the thought.

‘Doesn’t René take care of this sort of thing for you?’ Paulo wondered. ‘I thought you’d be too busy to sort out champagne and guest lists.’

Camille hesitated. She and Paulo had long had a tricky relationship. She knew that he was Lucas’s ami from childhood. Their friendship had been formed whilst Lucas stayed on the island with his grandmother, as Camille and Andre travelled the world. But she knew Lucas considered him one of his best friends, so she had to be content with that. ‘For an event this important, I like to oversee the details myself.’

‘In which case, everything will be immaculate. I personally guarantee it.’

‘Good,’ Camille replied crisply. ‘Because I hear there are some areas of the restaurant that aren’t running so smoothly.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Paulo shot back, and Camille could hear the defensive tone in his voice. ‘We’ve had nothing but good reviews for Lucas’s cooking, and—’

‘I’m not talking about Lucas,’ Camille snapped, her patience wearing thin. ‘Although he’s the one who told me about the little hiccup with the supplier the other day – that Diego had to come chasing for his payment. That’s not a good look, Paulo. It’s highly unprofessional, and word gets round.’

‘That was nothing,’ Paulo replied dismissively. ‘Why is Lucas running to Maman over a misunderstanding?’

‘He’s keeping me informed, Paulo. I’m an investor.’

‘A silent investor.’

‘That doesn’t mean you can waste my money – or run my son’s reputation into the ground,’ Camille hissed. Then her voice changed, the tone sweet but an undeniable warning in her words. ‘But I’m sure it won’t happen again, will it?’

‘Like I said, it was a misunderstanding. Don’t worry, Camille,’ Paulo continued smoothly. ‘You can trust me.’

Chapter 12

The majestic yacht sliced through the sapphire water, the sun reflecting off its dazzling white hull. It was 160 feet long and three decks high, and right now it was at capacity with glamorous guests. Stephanie readjusted her sunglasses and glanced around: Liv Tyler was standing by the Jacuzzi, speaking to Cate Blanchett; Jane Birkin was smoking a cigarette as she accepted a glass of champagne; and Liz Hurley was laughing loudly with Antonio Banderas. It was a pinch-me moment – proof of how far Stephanie had come, to be mingling with a crowd that most people could only dream of meeting. It was the sort of scene that would once have intimidated her – well, it still did, if she was being honest. Stephanie was finding it hard to shake the sense that she didn’t really fit it, of being an outsider.

Everyone was being so nice to her. Treating her as if she was meant to be there, that she was one of them – the rich, the privileged, the successful. She was pretty sure she looked the part, in a strapless playsuit with a halter-neck bikini underneath in case they went swimming, her long copper hair pulled back in a low ponytail that served to highlight her flawless skin and high cheekbones. She accepted a cocktail from a passing waiter, and took a moment to enjoy the view, admiring the endless blue of sea and sky that contrasted sharply with the frothy white waves the boat left in its wake.

‘Stephanie! I’m so pleased to see you. Oh, and don’t you look gorgeous!’

Stephanie turned to see Isobel, and a broad grin lit up her face at the sight of her new friend. She and Isobel had had a lot of fun the other day – one glass of rosé had turned into two shared bottles, and she’d had to call a taxi home, with Catherine’s staff retrieving the moped the following day.

‘Isobel,’ Stephanie beamed. ‘You look incredible.’