Page 90 of The Cellist

“Absolutely not. We simply followed you home one evening after you left work.” Arkady opened a Chinese lacquered box. “Your phone, please.”

Isabel placed it inside and closed the lid. “Is this the way you treat all the women you’re trying to seduce?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“It has been for some time.”

“And yet Martin allowed you to come.”

“Because I assured him it was a business dinner and that nothing would happen.”

“Thisisa business dinner. As for whether anything will happen...” Arkady shrugged. “That is entirely up to you.”

Outside, Arkady’s terraced gardens were illuminated like the Roman Forum at night. “It’s beautiful,” remarked Isabel.

“Yes,” said Arkady distantly. “But not as beautiful as you.”

She accepted his compliment in silence.

“May I ask you a question, Isabel?”

“No.”

“Why is a woman like you involved with a married man? And please don’t bother to deny it.”

“Have you been following me to Paris as well?”

“The apartment is located on the Quai du Bourbon.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Arkady sighed. “Surely you realized that, when working for a man like me, you could expect no zone of privacy.”

“I don’t work for you. I work for Martin.”

“And when he grows bored with you?”

“I’ll take solace in the fact that I am now a very wealthy woman.”

“How wealthy?”

“Arkady, please.”

“Seven figures? Eight perhaps?” He made a dismissive movement of his hand. “This is nothing. I’m prepared to make you seriously rich. Rich enough to own a villa like this. Rich beyond your wildest dreams.”

“And what would I have to do in return?”

“Leave Martin Landesmann and come to work for me.”

Isabel laughed in spite of herself.

“What’s so funny?”

“I thought you wanted me to become your mistress.”

“I do,” said Arkady. “But I am a very patient man.”

The dining room was hung with crystal chandeliers and aglow with candlelight. Two places had been laid at one end of the ludicrously long table. White-jacketed waiters served a first course of green lentils and caviar.