Page 24 of Under Her Protection

Vivienne stood in the corridor half a second past the moment Leo's back had turned, and she noticed, unhelpfully, that the line of Leo's shoulder under the jacket had been steadier than her own hand. She did not examine the observation. She walked back into the conference room and finished her meeting.

At ten-thirty, her chief of staff passed her a note. Martel had left the building at ten-twenty-two. He had spoken to no one but Mademoiselle Cole. He had not been seen to be distressed. He had collected his coat at the front desk and had walked out into the rue de Rivoli smiling, or approximating a smile. The person who had invited him had been Claudel, in communications, who had done so, Claudel would later claim, as a favor to a former colleague.

Claudel was not a name Vivienne had put on her list of suspects in the leak. Claudel was now on a different list, one that had only one entry, and one that Leo was going to be told about after lunch.

At two o'clock, Isabella called.

"You and I are having dinner tonight," Isabella said.

"I cannot."

"You can."

"I am⁠—"

"You are having dinner with me. Bring your bodyguard. I want to meet her."

"Isabella."

"Seven. L'Ami Louis."

"Isabella."

"Seven."

She hung up.

Vivienne set the phone down and did not permit herself a smile, which she felt anyway, a small private one in the hinge of her jaw. She permitted the feeling, since there was no one to see it.

She went to tell Leo about dinner.

Leo was in the reception of the executive suite, on the far side of the partition, with her back to the wall and her eyes on the lobby. She turned when Vivienne came in. For a breath she was, flatly, a woman standing in a room, and Vivienne studied her for a beat before she was ready to let Leo know she was there. Leo's weight was even between her feet. Her right hand rested loose by her thigh. Her jaw had the smallest line of tension running along it, which, Vivienne understood a second later, had been there since seven-forty this morning.

Vivienne's own weight shifted without her consent to the ball of her back foot, and she straightened her shoulder against the reflex. She was not going to comment on Leo's hands. She was not going to comment on Leo's jaw. She was not going to comment on Leo's discipline.

"Dinner at seven," Vivienne said. "L'Ami Louis. With Devereaux."

"Understood."

"You will accompany me. Madame Devereaux would like to meet you."

"I am sure she would."

"You have a reply prepared to that already."

"Madame Devereaux is not subtle."

Vivienne's mouth moved, briefly, in a thing that was almost a laugh.

"No," she said. "She is not."

They looked at each other a breath past the moment.

Vivienne broke first, again. This was becoming a pattern she did not intend to tolerate much longer.

"Seven," she said.

"Yes, Madame."