The Highest Price to Pay

“Right, well, I guess I’ll take what I can.” She hated that he made her feel so nervous, so unsure. She usually did better than this. She was accustomed to taking command of whatever room she was in, accustomed to having the control over conversation and interaction.

She didn’t seem to have it in his presence. She couldn’t even control her body’s response to him. She wasn’t even sure what to call the response. He scared her, which made her angry. He was attractive and when he looked at her the appraisal of his compelling gaze made her stomach twist. It was confusing. A mass of jumbled feelings she just didn’t have time to sort through.

She breathed in deep, hoping to find the numbness that helped her get through life. That helped her get through uncomfortable moments. That helped her deal with people who wanted to hurt her.

She couldn’t find it, couldn’t shield herself from the things he was making her feel. He looked at her, looked at her as though he could see right through all the walls she’d spent the past eleven years building to partition herself off from the world. And she felt naked. Like he could see the worst of her scars, into her, past the damage on her skin.

“Do you have pictures of this dress?” he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts, his focus on the business at hand helping rebuild some of her crumbling defenses.

“I take pictures of every piece. I have them in my portfolio.”

“Excellent. Email it to me and I’ll send it to Karen at Look.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.”

He turned to go then. Without even saying goodbye. It was like his mere move to exit should be sufficient. Standing in her own studio, he managed to make her feel like she was the one who had been dismissed.

She gritted her teeth against rising annoyance. Annoyance and something else that made her feel hot all over, made her face prickle.

She opened her laptop again and got ready to send the email to Blaise, using the address he’d so helpfully provided on the loan paperwork, those documents that gave him so much power.

So much power over her. She hated that. Hated him a little bit, too. This was meant to be her success, not his. The evidence of how far she’d come. Of all that she was capable of.

She attached the picture and left the body of the email blank. She didn’t have anything to say to the man. She would work with him, do what she had to do to hold on to her business. And as soon as she could, she was paying him back and getting things back on track. Back on her terms.

She looked at the clock on her computer’s task bar and swore mildly. She’d been invited to a Parisian socialite’s birthday party and she needed to make an appearance. Blaise might not think it was effective marketing, but she thought differently.

He might own her business, but despite what she’d thought in her most dramatic moments, he didn’t own her.

And she had a party to go to.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE was a pro at working a room, that was certain. Blaise tipped his drink to his lips but didn’t take in any of the bubbly liquid. Alcohol and the buzz that came with it held little appeal to him. Losing control wasn’t his idea of fun.

He watched as Ella talked to the small group of women that stood around her. She laughed, lifting up her foot slightly so they could get a better look at the electric-pink stilettos she was wearing.

The dress was sleeveless, showing off rough discolored patches of skin, the flesh on the upper portion of her left arm obscured completely by the marks. She seemed unconcerned, making grand, sweeping gestures as she talked.

He noticed that while no one looked at her with disdain, they did stand at a distance. He wondered if the scars were to blame. Ella didn’t seem to care either way.

She was bubbly, confident. She was smiling, something he didn’t know if he’d ever seen her do, not in a genuine way. But then, she didn’t like him very much. Something he should be used to by now.

He set his drink on the bar and wove through the crowded club. Ella looked up from her friends and he saw her blue eyes widen, watched as her smile became forced.

“Mr. Chevalier, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” she said, her manner smooth, but he could feel the strain it was taking for her to remain composed.

“I was invited, but wasn’t sure if I could make it.” This wasn’t his usual scene. If he wanted to find quick and easy female company then he might bother with party attendance, otherwise, he had no reason to go to events like this.

Lately he hadn’t even felt compelled to find a temporary lover. He found the games tiresome. Sex had been a catharsis after Marie had left, a way to try to wash away the memory, but now the endless stream of one-night stands had become boring. More than that, it filled him with a vague sense of disgust. Not anything new, but he found no reason to add to his sins.

Even now, one of the women in Ella’s group was giving him a look that let him know all he had to do was ask and she would be his for the night. Knowing that a few months ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to take her up on it made him feel a tinge of discomfort.

It shocked him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared whether or not his actions were moral. That ship had sailed a long time ago. Every last shred of honor he’d possessed had been stripped from him and he had simply embraced the man the world thought him to be. Because it was easier to be that man, easier to simply follow the path he’d started down than to retrace his steps back to the point where he’d gone wrong.

“But you did make it. Yay.” She said it with about as much enthusiasm as a woman who’d just discovered she needed a root canal.

“Somehow, I knew you’d be happy to see me.”

Her lip curled slightly, her smile morphing into a near sneer. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, thrusting them into greater prominence, and a stab of lust assaulted him. It was unexpected in its intensity, especially after the clear invitation of the other woman had failed to arouse anything in him other than distaste.

“Well, I thought you felt these sorts of events were beneath you?”

“Not at all.” The small group of women was quiet now, watching their interplay with avid curiosity. “Come with me.”

“I’m fine here, thanks,” she said archly.

“We need to talk.”

The women looked from him to her, their eyes round with interest. One of them actually pulled out her cell phone and fired off a quick text, either to spread information or to try to garner some.

“Talk then,” Ella said.

“Privately.” He leaned in and took her hand in his. The action drew the attention of several more people in the crowded room, including guests that he guessed to be reporters.

He had noticed the last time he’d touched her hand, how shockingly smooth it had been, and the scar was even smoother, robbed of its texture by flames.

Her full pink lips parted slightly, her eyes round. She looked frozen, shocked by the touch. Didn’t her lovers touch her like that? Or did they avoid the parts of her body that were less than perfect?

The women he’d been with had always been examples of universal beauty, the occasional botched plastic surgery aside. It was impossible to know what he would do if presented with her naked body. His liaisons didn’t require that much thought. That was the plus side to one-night stands.

Of course, at the moment, the thought of Ella naked ruined his thought process anyway. It erased logic, left only that strong, elemental desire, desire that roared through his body with the force of a fire.

He tightened his hold on her and led her away from the group. Ella made sure he knew she was allowing it grudgingly, her body stiff as she walked behind him.

He drew her into an alcove away from the dance floor, the bass still throbbed, loud enough to make the walls vibrate. He leaned in, bracing his arm on the wall and Ella took a step away from him, her eyes widening a bit when her back came into contact with the wall.

She made him feel like an evil villain about to lure her onto the tracks. But then her mask came back down, her face serene, bight blue eyes glittering in challenge.

“So, what was it you needed?”

“A chance to talk. And we were drawing attention so I thought we might make the most of it.”

“Okay, talk then.”

“I must admit, I did not give you enough credit when we first met,” he said.

Her expression registered surprise that she wasn’t able to conceal. “What?”