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of the house in which his office lay. They walked out, in
quiet conversation. Jean-Paul returned alone. He spoke
softly to Kate, his face grave. “I have done it. I told Marc
I had changed my mind.”
“What did he say?” she asked involuntarily.
He shrugged. “He said very little—I was rather
surprised. But he seemed displeased. Of course, there
had been no official announcement. It was just an
understanding between us, so there can be no gossip.”
“Did he ask you why?” she queried, wondering what
Marc had thought of Jean-Paul’s unexpected change of
heart. She could imagine him being very angry,
particularly after the savage way he had looked at her
while she was dancing with Jean-Paul.
“No, he seemed very thoughtful. Perhaps he has some
business worry on his mind. Marc and I are old friends,
but I felt a certain ... how shall I put it? ... distance,
between us. I did not explain my motives to him, since I
know he would try to persuade me to change my mind.”
Jean-Paul grinned at her. “He is an autocrat, as you
must have realised. The Lillitos family obey him without
question. And his business interests are so vast ...” he
lifted his shoulders in a Gallic gesture, “it is not
surprising he is so dictatorial at times.”
“It is irritating, though,” she said, “and I don’t think
one should pander to his god complex. He isn’t a tinpot
little divinity, whatever he thinks.”
Jean-Paul looked both astounded and deeply amused.
“A tinpot little divinity? Is that how you see him?” He
stared into her blue eyes, smiling. “As I said before, you
