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you. I don’t trust anyone else, I’m not stupid.’
    She trusted him? Even after he’d left her, she still trusted him? That was far too confusing a thought to process, so he shook his head and forced himself to stick to business.
    ‘I know you’re not stupid, Elise, but it worries me that someone will take advantage of you.’
    ‘How about some of my requirements?’ she said, changing the subject.
    ‘Shoot.’
    ‘I don’t want you to thank me.’ Her chin jutted forward, a serious look clouding her usual expression of elfin mischief.
    He raised a brow. ‘What do you mean by that?’
    ‘You’re paying me. I don’t owe you anything after it’s over, and you don’t owe me. We’re square, even, finito. ’
    The fact that she was already thinking about the end of their deal cut him deeper than he wanted it to. ‘Fine. What else?’
    ‘If you want my help then I don’t expect any attitude if I push you to do things that aren’t comfortable. I don’t accept it from my ballet students, so I won’t accept it from you.’
    He nodded. It seemed fair; he wouldn’t accept anything less of himself.
    ‘Last thing, we keep our focus.’ She dragged her lower lip between her teeth, pausing as if figuring out the correct words to use. ‘I don’t want to talk about the past, I don’t want to ask any questions and I don’t want you to give me any answers.’
    His chest ached as if a great, big gaping chasm had split it in two. She wanted to forget that she’d practically saved his life, that she was an integral part of who he was...what he’d become. Suck it up, you left her. Deal with it.
    ‘Okay?’ She stretched the word out, her grey eyes fixed on him.
    ‘Okay.’
    She nodded, satisfied. ‘Then I’ll help you.’
    Relief flooded through him. ‘I’ll have my legal adviser draft up a contract with the terms of our agreement and outline how much I’m willing to pay for your services.’
    ‘Fine.’ She waved her hand to dismiss him.
    Clearly ‘keeping focus’ didn’t include talking financials. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, studying her until she caught his steady gaze.
    ‘I still find all this strange, you know. I mean, haven’t you done interviews and press conferences before?’
    He should have. He’d sold his first computer application at twenty-two, subsequently creating and then selling a start-up company to a technology giant just three years later. He’d been the youngest person to make a million dollars off a company that was less than a year old—though the record had now been broken by a pair of sixteen-year-olds from California.
    There had been a lot of media interest at the time of the sale, but he’d staunchly refused interviews and it had become something of a distinguishing feature as his career had grown. One paper had gone so far as to label him ‘the CEO hermit’. In many ways, he knew it was bad for his career to be so media-shy...and this conference was his opportunity to prove to himself that he could conquer his fears. That he was taking steps towards greater success. That he’d moved on from being the charity case he was in school.
    ‘I tend to focus on what’s important, and that’s building innovative technology.’ He shoved another forkful of eggs into his mouth. ‘Not hamming it up for the press. This conference, however, is a great opportunity for my company...so I’m going to do it.’
    A cold drip of fear trickled down his spine. Thinking about hundreds of eyes being locked onto him while he stood on stage, the lone occupant of a bright spotlight, was enough to make his chest compress in on itself. His breath became shallow, the muscles in his neck stiffening. Suddenly his breakfast didn’t seem so appealing.
    ‘I guess you always were a bit of an introvert growing up,’ she conceded, bobbing her head. ‘You were always fiddling with your computers, playing video games. I guess all your passions were indoor activities.’
    He didn’t bother to argue;