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Business.
‘It’s pretty simple,’ he said. ‘Four engagements over a period of ten days. You sing one or two of your new songs.’
‘The audience won’t be expecting that.’
‘I know.’
‘And you’re okay with that?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Because your Head of PR definitely wasn’t.’
‘Good thing I’m CEO of the company, then,’ Luke said evenly.
‘You know,’ Aurelie said slowly, ‘people want things to be how they expect. They want me to be what they expect. What they think I am.’
‘Which is exactly why I want you to be different,’ Luke countered. ‘Bryant’s is an institution in America and other parts of the world. So are you.’
‘Now that’s something I haven’t been compared to before.’
‘If you can change your image, then anyone can.’
‘Judging by the papers, you’ve already changed the store’s image successfully. You don’t need me.’
Luke hesitated because he knew she was right, at least in part. ‘I didn’t like the way the press spun it,’ he said after a moment.
‘The whole self-deprecating thing?’ she said with a twisted smile. ‘Former celebrity?’
‘Exactly. I want a clean sweep, home run. No backhanded compliments.’
‘Maybe you should just take what you can get.’
He shook his head. ‘That’s not how I do business.’
She glanced away. When she spoke, her voice was low. ‘What if I can’t change?’
‘There’s only one way to find out.’ Aurelie didn’t say anything, but he could see her thinking about it. Wondering. Hoping, even. He decided to let her mull it over. Briskly, he continued, ‘Your accommodation will be provided, and we can negotiate a new rate for the—’
‘I don’t care about the money.’
‘I want to be fair.’
She toyed with her fork, pushing the food around on her plate. He saw she hadn’t eaten much. ‘This still feels like pity.’
‘It isn’t.’
She glanced up and he saw the ghost of a smile on her face, like a remnant of who she had once been, a whisper of who she could be, if she smiled more. If she were happy. ‘And you can’t tell a lie, can you?’
‘I won’t tell a lie.’
She eyed him narrowly. ‘But it’s something close to pity.’
‘Sympathy, perhaps.’
‘Which is just a nicer word for pity.’
‘Semantics.’
‘Exactly.’
His lips twitched in a smile of his own. ‘Okay, look. I told you, I don’t pity you. I feel—’
‘Sorry for me.’
‘Stop putting words in my mouth. I feel...’ He let out a whoosh of exasperated breath. He didn’t like talking about feelings. He never did. His mother had died when he was thirteen, his father had never got close, and his brothers didn’t ask. But here he was, and she was right, he couldn’t lie. Not to her. ‘I know how you feel,’ he said at last, and she raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by that admission. Hell, he was surprised too.
‘How so?’
‘I know what it feels like to want to change.’
‘You’ve wanted to change?’
‘Hasn’t everybody?’
‘That’s no answer.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve had my own obstacles to overcome.’
‘Like what?’
He should never have started this. The last thing he wanted to do was rake up his own tortured memories. ‘A difficult childhood.’
Her mouth pursed. ‘Poor little rich boy?’
He tensed, and then forced himself to relax. ‘Something like that.’
She lifted her chin, challenge sparking in her eyes. ‘Well, maybe I don’t want to change.’
It was such obvious bravado that Luke almost laughed. ‘Then why write a different kind of song? Why ask to sing it? Why accept the Bryant’s booking when you haven’t performed publicly in years?’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Done a little Internet stalking, have you?’
‘I didn’t need to look on the Internet to know that.’ She shook her head, said nothing. ‘Anyway,’ he continued in a brisker voice, ‘the point is, I’ve been trying to reinvent Bryant’s for years and—’
