“You see the scale of the problem, Tris?”

Kruger-Brent’s CEO said grimly: “I do. Is there any way…can this be contained?”

The voice on the speakerphone laughed.

“Contained? It’s all over the Internet! In a few hours, those pictures’ll be on Fox News and our stock’ll fall through the floor. You need to make a statement.”

Tristram Harwood hung up.

He’d spent three years “minding the store” at Kruger-Brent. Three peaceful, scandal-free years. And now, in his very last week…

“Stupid girl,” he muttered under his breath. “Stupid, stupid girl.”

Cedar Hill House had been Kate Blackwell’s dream home, an oasis of tranquillity in her turbulent life. The views were spectacular, the decor comfortable, welcoming and peaceful. The house had once held too many painful memories for Peter Templeton. But as he grew older, and his children became adults, he found himself increasingly drawn to the place. Kate had come here to escape the world. When he retired, he decided, he would do the same.

He made a few crucial changes. There was no longer a television in the house, or a phone. If one was going to escape the world, one might as well do it properly. A single, ancient desktop computer squatted on Peter’s desk, but it remained unplugged.

Robbie enjoyed the feeling of being cut off. It helped him relax. Lexi loathed it.

Thanks to Peter’s communications phobia, Lexi didn’t receive August Sandford’s e-mail till almost eight o’clock at night. She was strolling down by the water with Robbie when her BlackBerry suddenly and unexpectedly buzzed into life. It kept on buzzing.

Seventy-seven new messages.

The one from August had so many red exclamation points attached to it she opened it first.

Robbie saw the blood drain from her face.

“What? What is it?”

“I have to get back to the city. Right now. I need a plane.” Lexi was texting as she spoke, her thumbs working at lightning speed.

“It’s eight o’clock at night, sweetie. It’s too late to-”

“GET ME A PLANE!”

“All right. All right,” said Robbie. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Kennedy airport was swarming with reporters.

Vultures, come to eat me alive.

“Lexi, have you seen the pictures?”

“When were they taken?”

“Will you step down from Kruger-Brent?”

“Do you have any idea who posted the images on the Net?”

Yes, I have an idea. I know who. I know why. I know when.

But none of that is going to help me.

The Kruger-Brent boardroom was built in the round. Perched like a squat, circular turret on top of the Park Avenue building, it afforded phenomenal views of Manhattan, Central Park and the East River. In its center was a round mahogany table, large enough to seat thirty people. Today, twenty chairs had been positioned around it: fifteen for the board, including Tristram Harwood. Three for Kruger-Brent’s most senior attorneys. And one each for Lexi and Max.

Nineteen of the chairs were filled. It was five o’clock in the morning.

“Where is she? After everything she’s put this company through, the least she can do is show up on time.”

Logan Marshall, the oldest serving board member, made no attempt to mask his irritation. Glancing around the table, it was clear that his colleagues echoed his sour mood. When the markets opened later this morning, they could each expect to see as much as a third of their net worth go up in smoke. There was only one person to blame.

“I’m here, I’m here. We can start.”

In a pale peach pencil skirt and cream Marc Jacobs jacket, teamed with heels so high they looked more like launching gear than footwear, Lexi had dressed to kill. August Sandford thought: She’s not giving up without a fight. But she can’t win. Not this time. He flashed her an encouraging smile, but Lexi was too psyched up to return it. She launched into her pre-prepared speech:

“First of all, I would like to apologize to all of you for putting you-putting us-in this position.”

Silence.

“Obviously our key concern this morning is our stock price. My view is that before we make any other decisions, we need to act now to limit the damage and reassure our shareholders.”

Silence.

Lexi plowed on.

“My first thought on seeing these pictures was to resign immediately.” August heard the mutterings of “hear, hear.” Mercifully, Lexi didn’t. “But we all know that sudden and unexpected management change is the last thing likely to restore investor confidence. Our stock has risen steadily for the last six months on the expectation that I would take over as chairman next month. I don’t believe that me throwing myself on my sword is going to help us.”

Logan Marshall whispered to August: “Pity she didn’t think of that before she threw herself on all those college boys’ swords at Harvard. And on film, too. What was she thinking?”

“I disagree.”

Max got to his feet. He looked confident, poised and rested. Lexi thought: How the hell does he manage to look so beautiful at five o’clock in the morning?

“Let’s look at what we’re dealing with, shall we?” Max pulled a remote control from his pocket. A second later, a screen descended from the ceiling. On it was an image of Lexi, naked and on her knees, giving oral sex to a faceless man while two other men looked on.

August Sandford objected: “Is this really necessary? We’ve all seen the pictures.”

“Yes, and we’ve had a whole weekend to digest them,” said Max. “Think about our shareholders, waking up this morning and looking at that for the first time.”

He jabbed at the button on his remote. Another picture: Lexi snorting cocaine. And another. And another. They’d all been taken at the same party, during freshman week at Harvard. The “friend” who took them had been persuaded years before (with the help of a fat check) to hand the chip from his digital camera over to Lexi. She should have destroyed it at the time. But some crazy impulse made her keep it, locked away in the safe at her apartment. A reminder of the “Party Girl Lexi” she had left behind, the old, promiscuous self she had shed like a snake’s skin since falling in love with Max.

Falling in love.

Only one another person knew the code to that safe.

Max was still talking. He made eye contact with each board member in turn. When he came to Lexi, he looked through her as if she were a ghost.

No wonder you were so anxious to ship me off to Dark Harbor. How long have you been planning this, you bastard?

“It’s not only our shareholders. We have to think about the damage this can do to Kruger-Brent internally. I’ve already had e-mails from the heads of the Dubai, Kuwait and Delhi offices, all threatening to quit if Lexi becomes chairman. Tristram, have you gotten any calls?”

Tristram Harwood nodded grimly. America might be prepared to forgive its favorite daughter her youthful indiscretions. But Kruger-Brent operated all over the world, in Muslim and Hindu countries. Having a woman chairman, a deaf woman chairman, was bad enough. But this sort of stigma? It would cripple them.

Lexi sat and watched in silence while the men around her debated her future. Only it wasn’t a debate. It was a show trial. The verdict, guilty, had been decided before she ever walked into the room.

Of course it was Max who had betrayed her. He’d played her, just like August said he would. Images of their lovemaking, the wild, pagan passion of the last six months, swept unbidden through Lexi’s mind. Was it all just a game to him? Part of his battle plan? It must have been. And yet his desire, his love for her, felt so real.

She weighed her options:

I could tell them. I could tell the board it was Max who stole those pictures and made them public. Max who precipitated this crisis. Max who got us all into this mess.