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"Oh God."
"My sentiments exactly. And there's more. You'll never guess whose name came up during my little police interrogation."
"Whose?"
Stan's gaze was as bleak as it was direct. "Etienne Pruet."
Every muscle in Karen's body tensed. "Etienne's? Why?"
"Because they got wind of the fact that he was worried about the buying frenzy that would result when C'est Moi was released in Europe. He was concerned that it would take a bite out of his sales. And rightfully so. Sex sells. We all know that."
"Okay." Karen sat up, pulled the sheet around herself, and leaned back against the headboard. She had to stay calm, to think this through. "So they know Etienne was uneasy that C'est Moi would put a dent in his profits. They're looking toward motive and, in their minds, Etienne has one. But he was in Paris when Carson was shot. He couldn't have done it."
"True. But, as luck would have it, he's in New York now, ready and eager to offer the police whatever assistance he can. So Whitman and Barton are heading over to his New York office tomorrow to question him—and all his employees."
"All his employees?" Karen repeated weakly. "Why?"
"Because even though Pruet was in Paris, his New York staff was right here in the Big Apple. The detectives are trying
to figure out if any of those people might be guilty. And I do mean any of them."
"I hear you." Karen wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. "I understand what you're warning me about. What I don't understand is why the detectives were discussing any of this with you."
"Because Pruet's company and Ruisseau are both key players in the fragrance business. No one knows better than you that we're major competitors, or that it's natural for the big guns at Ruisseau to keep tabs on the big guns at its rival—including who's who, who's up-and-coming, and who's hungry to get ahead."
"Right. So you're saying the detectives questioned you about Etienne's staff. Which employees in particular?"
"All of them. They ran down the list of the entire New York staff, asked me about each and every one."
Karen paled. "Including me."
"Oh, yeah, including you."
"What did you say?"
"What do you think I said? 'Hey, Detectives, now that you ask, I've got a hot and heavy twenty-year affair going with the executive assistant to the head of Pruet's New York division?' " Stan snorted. "I lied through my teeth. I told them I'd met you a couple of times, at meetings and at professional functions. I said that all I'd heard about you through the grapevine was that you were bright and ambitious, and that you traveled frequently to Paris for Pruet because you spoke fluent French. Period."
A fine sheen of perspiration dotted Karen's forehead. "Maybe that was a mistake. Maybe you should have told them we were involved. After all, who you sleep with is no one's business."
"Oh, come on, Karen." Stan threw off the covers and rose, pacing naked around the room. "We both know that's a crock. It's everyone's business, even though we've managed to keep it a secret all these years. Because this isn't just a chance affair. It's a business arrangement, just as it has been from the beginning— one that benefits us both. Okay, there are perks. In my case, I'm crazy about you. In your case, you're crazy about my money and about the way I make you feel in bed."
She leaned forward, crossing her arms over her breasts, and staring him down. "That's unfair. To begin with, I'm in love with you and I have been since I was twenty-one. Yes, I like wearing beautiful clothes and getting expensive jewelry. And, yes, I'm wild about the way you make me feel in bed. But money and sex aren't the only reasons I'm with you. Any more than the only reasons you're with me are for the marketing updates and sales strategies I pass along."
"True. I'm in love with you. I blew two marriages to hell because of that fact. As for the last part, I think the term for what you described is corporate espionage."
"That's an ugly term. Especially in this case, where it's not even accurate. You've never used any of the information I shared with you against Etienne."
"Big deal. That's not because I'm a great guy; it's because it never suited my purposes. You know why I needed those briefings, and what I used them for. I had to stay on top. I had to be the best COO in the business." A bitter pause. "I had to live up to Carson's expectations." Stan paused, rubbed the back of his neck. "I feel lousy that Russ is dead. But if he really did have something on me, it's a damned good thing he didn't get to Carson with it. Because if Carson had the slightest idea what I've been doing, he'd kick my ass out of Ruisseau so fast I'd have whiplash."
"He's never going to find out."
"I'm glad you're so sure of that. Because I'm not. The detectives are sniffing around me like bloodhounds, Ferguson's seen us together and is about to crack like an egg—bonus payoff or not—Russ Clark's murder smacks of a company tie-in, and now Sabrina Radcliffe is starting to get suspicious."
Karen went still. "Sabrina Radcliffe? You're saying she knows about us?"
"No, but she knows something. I'm just not sure what. And she's sleeping with Dylan Newport, so God knows what she's shared with him, and vice versa. This whole thing is spinning out of control. I've got to nip it in the bud."
"How are you going to do that?"
