The French Girl by Lexie Elliott

Author:Lexie Elliott [Elliott, Lexie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Thriller
ISBN: 9780399586941
Google: g4EkDwAAQBAJ
Goodreads: 35235624
Publisher: Penguin
Published: 2018-02-19T05:00:00+00:00

* * *

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On Monday Julie has a message for me when I get back to my office after a meeting: Call Caroline Horridge, followed by a Haft & Weil number. There’s no message from Tom, not that he would call my office number, and not that I expect him to call at all. I answer a few e-mails first, but the yellow Post-it with Julie’s curly script sits on my desk and glares at me unrelentingly until I recognize I’m prevaricating. I grit my teeth, pick up the phone and dial, ignoring Severine, who is lounging against the wall inspecting her fingernails.

Caro answers exactly as she always does, stating her name in crisp tones after a single ring. “Hi, Caro, it’s Kate Channing here,” I say breezily, determined to cut off any of her game-playing tactics. “You left a message at my office.”

Nonetheless, she leaves a beat or two, as if, even after hearing my full name and exactly why I’m calling, she’s still struggling to place me. “Ah, yes, Kate,” she says warmly, when she finally does speak. “Apologies, I’ve just been immersed in some difficult drafting. Back to the real world, though: I was calling to talk with you about the recruitment progress.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. “In relation to . . . ?”

“Haft & Weil, of course. Our recruitment plans. I’m sure by now Gordon has told you that he’s handing over the reins of that project to me.”

“Um . . .” My fake smile slides right off my face.

“He hasn’t? Oh, I am sorry”—no, she’s not—“I didn’t mean to jump the gun”—yes, she did—“I was sure he’d spoken to you.” She knows he hasn’t. “Well, he has, so you and I are going to be working together on it from now on.” She pauses expectantly.

“Interesting,” I say. It is, actually, on a number of levels, but of course she expects something more than that. I recover the fake smile and plaster it on. “Well, welcome aboard.” I’m sure Gordon would have wanted to tell me himself; I wonder how he will react when he realizes he’s been leapfrogged.

“Thanks. I was hoping you might have some time tomorrow to drop by my office and bring me up to speed. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely.” I glance at my electronic calendar, these days gratifyingly checkered with meetings and calls, my smile doggedly in place. “I can do 11 A.M. or anytime after 3:30 P.M. tomorrow.”

“Let’s do 11 A.M. and then we can grab a bite to eat afterward. Sound good?”

“Perfect,” I manage. “See you then.”

Paul comes in just as I’m putting the phone down. “Kate!” he exclaims. He’s definitely on an uptick these days. “Glad I caught you. We should discuss the Cavanagh account, and I really think I’m close to getting Struthers to bite, and—”

“Slow down,” I say, laughing. “I’m not going anywhere. At least take your coat off first.”

Severine glances at him with disdain, and suddenly I wonder: if Severine is a creation

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