“Merci.” I exit the car service carrying some shopping bags, the bright blue sky overhead reminding me of a certain former bodyguard’s eyes. If only Wills had agreed to take me for another driving lesson today. When he dropped me off yesterday after lunch, he could not get away from me quick enough.

Sighing, I follow the flower-lined bluestone pathway to the front door of my Spanish-style bungalow, formerly owned by an actress from the Golden Age of Hollywood. When my accountant insisted I purchase a house, any house, I considered buying a flat in Paris but decided on LA instead. While Paris will always be my home, this is where I need to be based now. Hollywood studios, magazine headquarters, fashion houses. Wills. They all are nearby.

Fumbling through my tote, I locate my house keys and open the hand-carved mahogany door. Before I cross the threshold, my cell blares La Marseillaise, the French national anthem. I pick up the FaceTime call. “Bonjour, Maman.”

Her smiling face appears on my screen. “Allô, Emsy. How are things in Los Angeles? That is where you are, right?”

I smile. My mother always has difficulty keeping track of my schedule. “Oui, I am in my new house. The renovations are all done.” I close the door behind me and place my tote and shopping bags on the coffee table. “Of course, it is not Paris, but it is still nice.”

“Have you hung up the artwork I sent you yet?”

I pan the camera on my phone to the gorgeous hand drawing of the shops on the Avenue des Champs Elysées. “Oui. It graces the salon, and I see it every day.” I love how the colors in the drawing compliment my cream-colored walls. And I can almost smell the freshly-made croissants.

“Perfect. Now tell me what is on your mind. We may be separated by many kilometers, but I can still see you thinking.”

She knows me so well. I need a coffee. “You are right, Maman.” Passing through an archway to the kitchen, I fill her in on my meeting with Monsieur Price a couple of days ago.

“You have nothing to worry about. You now have the top executive directing your career. He is a true expert—he won’t steer you wrong. Just do as Monsieur Price says.”

I nod into the screen and begin to set up the coffeemaker. “You are right, as usual. I will do my best. I have been rehearsing my lines for the commercial and making notes about suggestions that I hope to bring up to the team.”

“You always are on top of things. I’m sure they will appreciate your input, but don’t be too pushy about it. After all, they paid a professional to write the lines.” She pauses. “My bébé is traveling the world and will be on both the small and large screens. Papa and I are so proud of you.” She blows me a kiss through the phone.

While the machine works, our conversation detours to catching up on the gossip around Paris, including the band my little brother is fronting. Gerard’s group caught the ear of a record producer, but he did not like the deal and turned the offer down. He believes something better will come and is holding out. For his part, Papa is doing well at work and Maman keeps very busy with her office and running the house. Even after thirty years of marriage, the love between the two of them shines.

I want that.

I am brought out of a daydream involving Wills when she says, “Rinaldo’s team is playing very well.” Her choice of topic should not surprise me. Maman loves football, what Americans call “soccer.” When I got together with Rinaldo years ago, she was ecstatic—the free game tickets he gave her did not hurt, either.

“I am happy for him.” I reach into the cabinet and select the mug my friend, sometime roommate and fellow model Val gave me. It says I woke up like this. I smile remembering when she gave it to me—both of us had our hair in ponytails, wore no makeup and were hungover.

“Have you seen Rinaldo lately?” Her eyes take on a familiar glint when talking about my ex-boyfriend.

I pour the hot café into my mug and let it cool down. “Not since I did that photoshoot in Barcelona a few months ago.”

“Oh, too bad. You two made such a lovely couple.” She looks down and then back into the camera. “Well, maybe you’ll see him when you’re in Spain again.”

Rinaldo is what the Americans call a loose end. Tall, dark and very handsome—and the youngest captain elected to represent his football team—he is the epitome of a perfect man. Yet, my heart does not urge me to reconnect with him like it is pushing me toward Wills. “Maman, Rinaldo and I broke up a long time ago because our schedules were out of synch. And nothing has changed. If anything, I am even more on the go now, assuming my bookings pick back up.”

“I am sure they will.” After a moment’s pause, she asks, “If not Rinaldo, are you seeing anyone new?”

I busy myself by pulling a spoon out of the drawer while visions of Wills protecting me from prying eyes at the restaurant yesterday play across my mind. “No…” My voice trails off and the spoon clinks on the counter.

On my screen, her eyes widen. “I knew it. You have that look about you.”

Playing with my hair, I sigh. I cannot hide anything from Maman. “I keep thinking of Wills. He is teaching me to drive.”

“Cole’s former bodyguard?

“Oui.”

“Are you two dating?”

I give her a weak smile. “No.” He made that perfectly clear when he turned down my offer to join me tonight at the club opening. And to take me driving today. But there is more than one way to pet a cat, as the American saying goes. I raise my chin. “Not yet.”

Wanting to deflect her away from Wills, I pick up my spoon, stir the café and say, “Maman, it is time for me to sign again with the Agency.” The soothing scent of the brew perfumes the air as if I were back in Paris, taking some of the sting out of Wills’s rejections.

She removes her earring at the change in topic but goes with it. “Price Modeling has done a wonderful job with your career.”

I purse my lips. “Oui. But I think I should have an attorney look it over again. Lizzie says she always has someone review hers when it comes up for renewal.” She mentioned this to me a few months ago when I ran into her at a fashion show.

“Lizzie is quite a bit older than you.”

After blowing on my café, I reply, “True, but she set the standard and has always given me good business advice. It cannot hurt to have someone look it over now. No one has since I first signed.”

Maman’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m sure you won’t have that many changes as you don’t want to make waves. The attorney Papa and I got for you before has retired. Do you want us to find you another one?”

I shake my head. “No, I can ask around here. Maybe Lizzie can give me her attorney’s name.”

Her eyes focus on something off-screen. “You are building your own life away from Paris. But I do hope you return someday.”

“Of course, I will. Paris is my home. You are there.”

Her palm presses to her chest. “I thought for a second.” She shakes her head. “Never mind. With all of your traveling, you are able to get out here, but it is never enough. And now that you are going to be a movie star, well, I am thrilled.”

Emitting a very unladylike sound at her last statement, I reply, “I would not say I am going to be a movie star, Maman. I only have a cameo.” I take my first sip of café and enjoy its bitter warmth as it slides down my throat.

She waves her hand. “Just do your best, and you will shine.” Her smile lights up my screen. I cannot let her down. I will continue to make her and my family proud. And how hard can it be to do my best, when I will be playing myself on-screen?

After our call ends, I take my mug into the salon and sit on the sofa. The contract from the Agency sits in a pile on the coffee table. Reaching over, I flip through the pages, but my eyes cross at all the dense type, in English no less. I would like to have a bit more control over my schedule going forward, so perhaps an attorney could help negotiate that for me. I pick up my cell phone and text Lizzie.

While I am on my phone, I hop over to one of my favorite places, Instagram, and scroll through my feed, smiling at the photos my followers posted with questions about their outfits. Of course, as the account is not under my real name, they do not know I am behind the advice. And I like it this way. I get busy responding to their style questions.

Reaching for my mug, I sip the now lukewarm brew. I cannot believe well over an hour has passed since I answered Maman’s call. The ding of a text brings my eyes to my cell, where Lizzie’s smiling face shows on the screen. After thanking her for her attorney’s name, I call and make an appointment for next Friday, the day before I fly out to Las Vegas for Rose’s bridal shower.

Thoughts of the shower remind me that I need to wrap Rose’s present. Grinning at the thought of Cole’s response to seeing her in the sexy black outfit from La Perla, I take the shopping bags with me into the dining room. Spreading out the gift, box. wrapping paper and assorted accessories on the round glass-top table that seats six, I make quick work of her gift. After considering it from various angles, the present looks better than I feared it might. The ribbons certainly hide a bevy of sins, namely bumps and bubbles. Oh well, it is what is inside that counts.

Pleased enough with my handiwork, I place the gift next to the card in my office and check the time. I have a while before I need to prepare for the club opening, so I turn on the flat-screen television hanging above the decorative fireplace in the salon. I cue up the English language video I have been watching to improve my proficiency and reduce my French accent.

The life of a model is always so glamourous.

Checking the mirror one last time, I add some sheer gloss to my red lips and step into my Jimmy Choo’s. Then, I fasten a gold open chain-link belt around my waist to complete my outfit. Vera Wang’s creations always fit me so well. Placing my gloss next to my cell in my clutch, I leave my bedroom and sit down in the salon to wait for the limo the Agency sent. My new bodyguard, Neil, will be in it.

One hour. That is all I am contracted to do. I will be back here in yoga pants in no time.

The doorbell chimes, and I stand, smooth down my dress and walk over to meet Neil. Taking a deep breath, I don my professional smile and open the door.

And it takes all the strength in my core to remain upright.

Looking back at me is not the face that I expected based on Neil’s headshot, but one belonging to a man who can set this night on fire.