As they finished up with bite-sized sweet-potato balls covered with finely chopped pecans, Dominique got right to the point. “Do you have any suggestions on how best to counter the François situation?”

Xavier Marquis sat back, his tapered, manicured fingers steepled beneath his mouth. His startling brown eyes were framed with long, curly lashes and stood out of an aristocratic-looking face with sharp, defined features, and a shock of thick, black hair. He studied Dominique for several seconds before blessing her with a dazzling white smile.

“As Mirabelle told you, I have long had an interest in fashion. Several of my very good friends are in the industry.”

Dominique nodded, having heard from Mirabelle that Marquis and Christian Louboutin were longtime buds.

“I’ve followed your magazine’s progress from the beginning and from where I sit I see only one thing that’s missing.”

A slight frown marred Dominique’s face. “What’s that?”

“You,” Xavier calmly replied.

Instead of responding, Dominique sat back and continued to listen.

“You have made your presence known behind the scenes, but look at you. You are the very embodiment of what Capricious stands for: big, beautiful, and bodacious. You’ve told celebrity stories and put their pictures on the cover. Now, it is your turn. You, in my humble opinion, should become the official face of Capricious.”

45

45

“Mon dieu! It is brilliant, Dominique, brilliant!”

It was eleven o’clock at night in Paris but, as requested, Dominique had called Mirabelle from her car as soon as she’d left Tosts and Xavier Marquis.

“I told you that he was the answer. I am right, always, tell me.”

“You are always right,” Dominique said, laughing. “But really, Mirabelle, what would people think of me putting myself on the cover?”

“They’d think you’re as smart as Oprah Winfrey,” Mirabelle replied. “She puts herself on every cover and the public loves it!”

“The public has had twenty-five years to get to know Oprah,” Dominique commented drily. “People don’t know Dominique Clark. They could give a hoot.”

“A hoot?”

“They couldn’t care less,” Dominique said, adjusting her answer for one whose first language was not English.

“Not yet,” Mirabelle went on, nonplussed. “Not until you share your story, bare your soul. Don’t you see, Dominique? You are one of them, a working woman and single mother. You’ve battled low self-esteem, weight issues, and worthless men.”

“I see that you and Solveig have been talking and I’ve been the topic of discussion,” Dominique said matter-of-factly but without anger. “Thanks for painting such a flattering picture.”

“It is why people will find you so relatable. Your story plus a beautiful fashion spread will endear you to the subscribers and Xavier will make sure you get seen by people who’ll help your star rise. When people think of Capricious they’ll think of you, and then there will be no way those sanctimonious scallywags will think to let you go.”