“Where are you from originally?” she asked, feeling stupid the minute the words left her mouth. Because it was his accent, and the strange curling sensation created in her stomach, that had prompted her to ask. And she really didn’t want him to know that.

Didn’t want him to think that anything about him interested her at all. Who knows what he might do with that bit of information.

“France, originally. My father is a very wealthy businessman, a native of France. But I spent a portion of my childhood in Malawi, with my mother.”

“Why wasn’t she in Paris?”

He shrugged. “My parents divorced. She wished to return to her homeland.” He said it with as little interest, as little emotion, as he said everything. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had really been so casual as he made it sound. To go from Paris to Malawi as a child couldn’t possibly be a nonevent; neither could being separated from his father.

Although, she knew as well as anyone that sometimes cutting ties with family wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

Still, it made her wonder about him. Made her feel a small sliver of sympathy for the boy he’d been. Why? He clearly didn’t feel anything for her, and she wasn’t asking for it.

They might have a tentative truce, but it was tenuous. She had his word, and his word alone that they would work on her business, rather than him simply wiping it out of existence by demanding money she didn’t have.

Not a comforting thought considering his reputation. And that meant her mind had to stay on matters of business, and not the exotic flavor of his accent. Not on the boy he’d been, but the man he’d become.

“So, being that you’re the mastermind,” she said, breaking the silence, hoping to do something about the odd, thick tension that had settled between them, to get rid of that strange, tight feeling in her chest, “what are your plans?”

“I was thinking a Times Square billboard and a cover for Look magazine.”

She coughed. “What?”

“I know the editor for the magazine. She said if I could get a look from you that would go well with a spring editorial that she would use it for an ad and the cover.”

“But that’s…that’s huge exposure.”

“Oui. I told you I was good.”

“Very good.” She felt like she’d been hit in the head, dazed and a little bit woozy. “It doesn’t seem possible. She would do that, just because she knows you?”

“I had her look up your work online. She was impressed by you. It’s hardly charity.”

“But it’s…”

“I told you I could turn your five-year plan into a six-month plan,” he said, his tone laced with arrogance. “She might like to interview you, too. Do a designer profile.”

It was the kind of exposure she both dreamed of and dreaded. The kind that would give her the success she knew she was capable of. The kind that would give her a lot of exposure, both personal and private.

She’d already dealt with it on a small scale. It was easy to just put up the wall, smile and laugh, turn for the picture to expose the scar on her neck. Give the people what they wanted. She didn’t bother to hide the past, the marks it had left on her skin.

She also kept some of it to herself. She didn’t want to flaunt the worst of it. She gave just enough, just enough that no one pressed for more. Not that there was anything left to be said that could hurt her. She’d heard every insult, every cutting remark. Some of it from the mouth of her own mother. She’d survived. She hadn’t crumbled then, she wouldn’t crumble now.

She was going to grasp the opportunity with both hands. Make the most of her unasked for association with Blaise. If the man could get her a billboard ad, a cover and an interview, she might grow to resent him less.

“That would be great, more than that, it would be amazing.”

“I know you love publicity,” he said, one side of his mouth curved up.

“I like the sales that come with it,” she said, her voice flat.

Publicity, in a certain sense, she could take or leave.

“What would you pick for the shoot?”

Ella crossed the room, grateful for the distance between them. She didn’t know what it was about him that made her feel tight and jittery inside.

His looks, his reputation, it all combined to make him a pretty potent mix. One she was afraid she didn’t know how to handle. She worked with male models all the time, and their boyish quality didn’t bother her at all. Sure, sometimes when she measured their finely toned physiques she got a mild thrill, but she was a woman after all, and they were men.