by Nita Brooks
Nicola jumped from the bed and crossed the room. “Want me to help with your makeup?”
Adele chuckled and waved her away. “That’s cute. No, I’ve got it.”
“You always let Quinn help you with your makeup.”
“Well, Quinn knows what she’s doing.”
“I’ve worked in the beauty industry for years, Mom. I know what I’m doing.” She picked up a bottle of Triumph and brought it to her nose. She still loved that fragrance.
“You can help me pick out a perfume for the night.” Adele used a brush to smear primer on her face.
“Easy, you always wear our signature to dinner parties.” Nicola set the crystal jar back on the vanity.
“It’s a new classic, remember,” Adele said proudly.
How could she forget. Vogue magazine giving their fragrance that title helped launch Queen Couture from potential failure to being one of the top names in fragrance. She didn’t want to think about how she’d “saved” the company all those years ago.
“Did you know Grandad found someone else to help him with his magic show?” Nicola asked. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall where she could watch her mom apply her makeup.
She hadn’t done that since she was a little girl. Her mom used to always drag her dad to fancy parties he’d rather not attend. He’d leave the bedroom and turn it over to the women in the house. Nicola and Quinn would sit in the corner and watch their mom do her makeup and hair. Quinn always providing suggestions that made things better. Nicola trying not to show how clueless she was when it came to applying makeup by pretending to read a book.
“Good for him,” Adele said. “I told him you’re too busy to be fooling around with his three-quarter-life crisis.”
“Three-quarter-life crisis? What is that?”
“Well, he’s seventy-five. Mom kept him straight during his mid-life crisis. What else is this besides a three-quarter-life crisis? Wanting to do magic shows and dragging you to speed dating events.” Adele rolled her eyes then leaned in closer to the mirror as she applied foundation.
“How about he’s trying to find something to be happy about now that he doesn’t have Grandma. Besides, I wanted to help him out.”
“Nicola, please, we all know you don’t have time for silly things. You’re more serious than the rest of us. Always with your nose in the book. He said you were angry after speed dating and I told him you were probably angry in general that you had to be pulled into his silly talent show.”
“I wasn’t angry. I was excited.” She admitted. Her mom’s assumption was probably what ultimately lead to Nicola being traded in for the handy and crafty Valeria.
Her mom laughed as if that were the funniest thing she ever heard. “Okay, Nicola. But in all seriousness, you really need to get to work on Desiree’s fragrance. Her people called me on Friday saying they are really hoping to nail things down for your meeting this week. You can’t get distracted by anything right now except making sure Desiree and her people are happy.”
“I’m working on it.” She would get this figured out.
“Well, work faster. Jesus, Nicola, you finally put all of that chemistry knowledge to a good use by making fantastic perfumes, and when it really counts you want to pout about not being in Dad’s magic show, or run off to L.A. with Quinn for no reason.”
“I’m doing stuff I never did before. Publicity, remember? And what do you mean finally put my knowledge to use? Mom, I graduated top of my class. I had an offer to work on my thesis with one of the best biochemical researchers out there. I could have gotten a job or worked on a research project that could have helped so many people. My knowledge was already being put to good use.”
Adele sighed and leaned forward as she applied eye shadow. “See, there you go again, being dramatic. Sometimes I think you would have preferred working on some research project than actually lowering yourself to work in the beauty industry.”
“I never said working here was lowering myself.”
“Well, you also make it perfectly clear that your dream job wasn’t here. I know you sacrificed what you really wanted to come help me turn this company around. That you think your research might have saved Mom. Well, guess what, it probably wouldn’t have.” Adele’s hand trembled. She took a deep breath and lowered the brush. “What happened to Mom was unfortunate, and we both know that researching a cure isn’t the same as finding one. I’ve come to terms that Mom is in a better place and no longer suffering. It’s time you accept that, and stop acting as if working here is a step down from your lofty goals. We know you’re smart, Nicola. You don’t have to remind us.”
Nicola drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. No matter how bad she felt, her mom knew how to add more guilt. “I am happy here. I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else.”
It was true. She’d had lofty goals of scientific discovery, but she didn’t regret a day of working at Queen Couture. She loved working with her mom. Loved being a part of the world she’d never belonged to before. Only at times like this did she remember that she hadn’t gotten there solely on her own merits.
“Well then prove it, by making Desiree’s perfume. Quit worrying about what your grandfather is doing and quit following Quinn when she goes off on one of her flights of fancy and do what you’re supposed to.”
Nicola nodded. She absorbed her mom’s words. Adele was right. She wasn’t supposed to be having fun, traveling to L.A., or spending time on a magic show she hadn’t really wanted to do. Her job was to be the top perfumer of Queen Couture. If she wanted to continue to be a person her family admired instead of ignored, then she had to make Desiree’s perfume a success.
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get to work on Desiree’s perfume tomorrow.”
Chapter 24
When Damien texted asking if she was coming by the studio, Nicola only hesitated a second before saying yes. The visit with her mom had left her irritated and weighted with responsibility. Instead of spending the night thinking about how all her focus would need to be on creating Desiree’s perfume, she decided to let the happiness that infused her from Damien’s text wash away the lingering disappointments from her day.
By the time she arrived, the studio was closed, but Damien’s truck was parked around back. She pulled out her phone and texted that she was outside. A few seconds later he replied to meet him at the side entrance.
He wore a t-shirt that was once white but had been stained with various colors, probably over several months. Dried clay splattered his arms and, God bless him, the grey sweatpants he wore. There should be warning signs posted when a good-looking man was going to be out and about attacking women’s libidos by wearing sweatpants. His dreads were pulled back in a loose knot. The silver chains he wore tucked beneath his shirt.
Not caring about his stained clothes or the clay on his arms, she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted onto her toes to kiss him. Damien pushed the door closed and pressed her against it. She breathed him in. Felt settled by the certainty that he wanted her. That his hands on her body were just as desperate as her hands on his. After a day of rejection, his desire was like a balm to her scratched nerves.
Damien broke the kiss first. His breathing heavy and his eyes dark pools of desire. “You okay?”
The concern in his eyes made her throat constrict. No. This was not a time for emotions or crying. She had a man in her arms. A man for whom she actually inspired a passionate response. Now was not the time to cry about her family hurting her feelings. Desiree, Quinn, and Shonda wouldn’t spend this time pouring out their emotions. Neither would she.
She reached for the waistband of his sweats and jerked them open. “I’d be better if you stopped talking.”
His body shivered. Another question brightened his eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Damien.” She leaned up and brushed her lips across his.
“What?”
“Stop talking.”
His mouth opened
. There was a battle in his eyes. Find out why she was all over him two seconds after coming into the building, or go with what she wanted. She slid her hand into the waistband, and sweet Lord he wasn’t wearing underwear. Damien’s body trembled and he stopped talking.
* * *
“Now are you ready to tell me what’s going on?” Damien asked much later.
Nicola snuggled closer against him on the loveseat in his office. He lounged in the corner with his legs stretched out. Her back was against his chest. She didn’t want to talk about what was going on. She wanted to bask in the glow of finally having had up-against-the-wall sex. Hard, passionate sex, which was a little difficult to coordinate, but still great. She tried to think of fragrances that represented those feelings. Those emotions. That’s what she needed to make for Desiree.
Hard, something earthy, like nocturnally flowering Guet-tarda spruceana or a passionately sweet scent like ylang-ylang might work. Something difficult and uncoordinated. A scent that couldn’t be easily wrangled in.
“Hey,” Damien nudged her with the arm across her chest. “Stop thinking and start talking.”
“Sorry, it’s just work stuff.”
“Things going okay?”
His hand trailed down her arm. Her body trembled. Damien pulled the thin blanket he’d had draped over the back of the chair over her.
“I’ve got a big meeting next week for Desiree’s perfume. I’m worried we may lose the account,” she admitted. “I’ve never lost a client before.”
She said what she’d been afraid to say out loud before. If she didn’t ultimately make Desiree happy then she could easily pick another perfume house to make her perfume. Queen Couture was financially stable enough to handle losing the account, but the backlash of being unable to meet Desiree’s needs would affect them. Other clients may not consider them. Their quick rise in the competitive industry wouldn’t mean anything if other celebrities avoided working with them.
“I thought you had that project locked in?” Damien continued running his hands over her. The slight movement hypnotic and comforting.
“Nothing is ever locked in when it comes to this industry. Desiree liked the original samples I put together, which means her lawyers are now talking to our lawyers to come up with a contract about licensing, usage of her name and things like that, but the final contract isn’t signed. There’s still time for her to walk away.”
“Why would she walk away? She likes your samples, right?”
“She did, but I still haven’t gotten it exactly right. I’m meeting with her manager in a few days. I’m starting to worry that I may not be able to do what she wants.”
“What does she want?”
“Something edgy and exciting, but also classic and long lasting.”
He lifted her hand and spread it out against his. “Sounds like a contradiction.”
She grinned and watched him study their hands. He was touchy-feely. She never would have expected that when they’d first met. She’d never been touchy-feely and was surprised how much she liked his caresses and kisses.
“It is a contradiction.” She threaded her fingers through his.
“Is that the problem?”
“No. I’ve had clients who’ve asked for random things to go together before. Last year I made a scent for a lotion that was called California Red Wine and Sunshine.”
Damien’s chest vibrated beneath her as he laughed. “What?”
“Yes! It was for a winery that sends special gifts to their patrons. The scent wasn’t as hard to make as it sounds. I took the notes from the wine and synthesized citrus scents for sunshine.”
“What you just said makes no sense to me, but it sounds like you are the expert they say you are.” He kissed the back of her hand. Their fingers still joined together. “If you know how to synthesize sunshine, I think you can handle making Desiree’s perfume. Are you sure you aren’t too stuck in your own head and it’s making it hard for you to trust yourself?”
She pulled her hand from his and stared at the ceiling. “You think I don’t know that already. I’m trying. This shouldn’t be a problem. I always figure things out. That’s what I’m supposed to do. Figure everything out.”
“Aha, now we’re getting to the real reason you jumped me.”
“Number one, I didn’t jump you. And I’d think most men would be happy when their woman shows up and demands they take off their pants.”
Strong arms wrapped around her, and he hugged her tighter. “You did jump me, and I am happy about everything that happened. I wasn’t happy about the sad look in your eye right before you drowned your emotions with sex.”
She cocked her head in order to look up into his face. “Are you analyzing me?” She couldn’t believe he’d noticed.
“No. I recognize the signs.” A history of dealing with someone who hid their inner feelings haunted his voice.
His ex-wife had done that. Hidden her thoughts until one day she packed up and left. She didn’t want to be compared to his ex-wife. She wasn’t narcissistic or overly independent. She was only independent because she had to be. It’s what everyone expected her to be. She could open up and let people in.
“My grandfather dumped me,” she said softly. “I was supposed to help him with his magic show at the senior center and he replaced me.”
Damien shifted behind her. She turned to her side so they could look each other in the eye. He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Ooh, baby, I’m sorry.”
The empathy in his voice made her heart feel squishy. “Her name is Valeria, and to make it worse, she’s kind of perfect to help him.”
“How dare she be perfect,” Damien said with mock outrage.
She knew he was only saying that to make her feel better, and it made her smile. “I know right. She works at the drama department in the high school. Got him a fancy costume and all these props. Just because I live an hour away, and don’t have access to costumes, and can’t come to all the rehearsals doesn’t mean I was a bad assistant.”
“Not at all, but maybe it’s just easier with her there.”
Nicola sighed. “I know. It makes sense. I’m busy with the perfume. I’m always working.” All very legitimate reasons she shouldn’t complain.
“But . . .” he raised a brow.
“But it was the way it happened. He just assumed I wouldn’t care. My family always assumes I don’t care. That all I want to do is work in the lab and be the fixer. Never the fun one. Never the one they can count on for anything other than solving a problem.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being a fixer.”
“There’s nothing great about being the one no one cares about. The one who doesn’t need anything because she can take care of herself.”
The one they assumed could always give a bit of herself without any expectation of receiving support in return. Her fault really. All her life she’d hidden how much she wanted to feel like she was a part of the family.
“Hey, tell your family how you feel. Ask for help sometimes. If you never show that you need something, then they’ll assume you don’t.”
“It’s not that easy.” She couldn’t show her family she was afraid of messing up all the time. That half the time she wasn’t sure if she was making the right moves. That even when they thought she’d made the right moves, she hadn’t. Then what would she be in the family? She couldn’t go back to being ignored, or worse, scorned after everyone learned the truth.
Damien kissed her temple. “It is that easy. That’s what family is for.” He was quiet for several seconds. Nicola watched the conflict in his eyes, the question of how much more to say, before he spoke again. “After my divorce, I was so angry. I couldn’t even appreciate the success I’d made of the studio. My big brother and little sister took me out and basically told me to get over myself. Stop acting like the forgotten middle child and celebrate the good stuff in my life.”
“Did that work?”
He shook his head, but his lips
lifted in a wry smile. “It pissed me off more, but then my mom called all excited about seeing one of my pieces discussed on some television show. It was the first time she’d called excited about something I’d done. I know my parents love me and they want the best for me, but my brother is the successful heart surgeon, my sister is a school superintendent who gave them their first grandchildren. I was just the artist.”
“You’re not just an artist.” Her voice was fierce. No one was ever just anything. The feeling of being just a fill in the blank was often a feeling of being insignificant and marginalized.
“I know that, but when she called, I told her that was the first time I could remember her being excited about my work, and she cried. Before then, she’d never realized she hadn’t told me how proud she was of me and my work. Then she told me about all the times she’d been proud of me over the years. I don’t know what clicked, but I understood I could continue to be angry about what my ex had done to me, or I could let it go. I had a family who cared about me. They were proud of me. They love me. I had more to be happy about than to be angry about. My relationship with my mom and siblings wasn’t bad, but I also didn’t open myself up to them. I was the middle kid and I accepted I wouldn’t get attention, but after I opened up to my family more, they opened to me. We’re much closer now.”
She wasn’t the middle child, but she understood his feelings of not being seen. Of accepting your invisibility instead of asking for attention. Of not wanting to show that you cared because it could only expose you to a pain with the potential to hurt worse than being overlooked.
“You’re saying tell my grandad he hurt my feelings?”
“Tell him you understand, but wanted to be in the show. Let people see the emotions you’re trying to hide.”
“I’m not hiding my emotions with you.”
She’d confessed more to Damien than she’d confessed to Shonda or Quinn. Her plan to keep him at a distance was slowly eroding. Staying closed off was so much harder with Damien. He paid attention to her. Listened to her. Saw things other people didn’t bother to see. She appreciated him and wished he wasn’t so observant. Hiding was easier.