Blood Stones by Evelyn Anthony

than bailing out Kruger when he made mistakes. He had quoted several instances. So Julius said she was to go. As predicted, she accepted on the spot. Interesting, he thought. Puppets on strings, all of them, and he was the puppet master, pulling this one, jerking another. He didn’t enjoy manipulating people. But he had to protect Diamond Enterprises, and the whole diamond industry, from the mines down to the cheap high street jewellers who depended upon him and his power to fight off market forces and recessionary swings. They stood or fell together; only a megalomaniac like Karakov would put so much at risk. But he would learn. The hard way.

4
    â€˜Darling,’ James said, ‘I’ve got a list of apartments, take a look and see what you think … Here,’ he handed the brochures to her, flipped some pages and pointed, ‘that sounds rather nice. The rue Constantine is a very smart address.’
    Elizabeth smiled. She couldn’t resist teasing him for being what she called a postal district snob. ‘Do we have to be smart? I’d like to live on the Left Bank …’
    â€˜Maybe, but that wouldn’t impress Karakov. And that’s what we’re about. He’s got to see the youngest member of the D.E. Board lighting up the Paris social scene with his beautiful titled wife. He’ll love the Lady Elizabeth bit.’
    â€˜Balls to that,’ Liz said rudely. ‘I never use it, and I’m not going to start now. So you can forget that . I mean it!’
    â€˜All right, I was just getting a rise. For a change. Seriously, look through these and if you see one you like, maybe you could take a day and fly over and view. I’m too busy, and I’ll like what you like. I always do. Get yourself some clothes while you’re there. Givenchy?’
    â€˜That wouldn’t be a bribe, would it?’
    â€˜It might,’ he agreed.
    â€˜Then make it Christian Lacroix and I’ll go.’
    He looked at her and smiled with sheer pride and happiness. What lucky star had led him to that night-club where he saw her first, and knew by the end of their first dance that this was the girl? She had a naturally gay temperament, in the real sense of that purloined word. She was always finding something ridiculous to laugh at, usually at her own expense. She was devoid of sham or conceit; he thought she was the most natural person he had ever met. Generous to a fault, she’d give anything to anyone who told her a sad story. She had little or no physical fear.
    Those dreadful nags she used to ride down in darkest Somerset. He’d weaned her away from the clodhopper set, thank God. Her parents still hadn’t really forgiven him. She was going down for her father’s birthday; she hadn’t pressed him to come. He grinned, remembering how he’d tried bullshitting about being so sorry to miss it, but with the move to Paris … Typically Liz had cut him off short with her devastating frankness. ‘You’re not sorry, darling, you’d hate every minute of it – all Pop’s cronies from the Army and the Hunt Committee.’
    And, because he found it impossible to put on an act with her, he’d said simply, ‘An absolute nightmare, sweetheart. You go and get an extra nice present from me. And have fun.’
    It was a wonderful marriage. They understood each other, each gave way about things that didn’t matter and talked their way through things that did. She had brought a new dimension into his life: honesty and trust. Into his private life. The business world was not made up of people like Elizabeth. He judged this the moment to tell her about Ruth Fraser. Immediately Liz forgot about going to Paris. She dropped the glossy estate agent’s brochure on the floor and stared at him.
    â€˜You’re taking her with you? I don’t believe it! Whatever for?’
    â€˜Confidential secretary-cum-personal assistant. That little