Heaven Scent

by Sasha Wagstaff

  ‘How have you been?’ she asked Delphine warmly, pouring them both cups of fragrant mint tea. ‘I must say, I’ve missed chatting to you.’

  Delphine regarded her coolly. She had arranged the meeting with Angelique because she wanted to sound her out; she needed to be clear about her strategy when Xavier returned home from Grasse.

  Angelique was aware that this was a test. She didn’t know why Delphine had broken her silence but she intended to play the situation to her advantage.

  ‘I see you’ve made a few more films since our last meeting,’ Delphine said, her disapproval clear.

  Angelique refused to blush. Her films made her an awful lot of money and provided her with the sort of celebrity lifestyle she craved. She did, however, want a different sort of life now, one a relationship with Xavier could provide.

  ‘Yes, needs must, I’m afraid. But I would love to move in another direction if at all possible.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I would love to do more adverts,’ Angelique explained. ‘Classy ones, of course. Something that might raise my profile . . . that might allow me to make more serious films. If I wasn’t lucky enough to become a wife and mother, of course,’ she added demurely, looking down at her mint tea, in case shrewd Delphine spotted the insincerity in them. Angelique wouldn’t dream of giving up her career to become a stay-athome housewife, not in a million years. What had happened with Xavier proved that, not that Delphine knew about that issue, naturally.

  Before meeting Delphine, she had received a message from Mason saying she’d been offered the cover of Playboy. That was her point, in a nutshell. Years ago, she would have jumped at the chance, but now, she had different ambitions. Her own line of products – Angelique, the brand. That was her ultimate aim. She made an effort to focus on what Delphine was saying, knowing this was her big moment.

  ‘I’m so glad to hear that,’ Delphine commented, with slightly more warmth in her tone. ‘I think moving your career in a different direction would be the right thing to do. Especially if you were to move in our circles again . . . and perhaps settle down.’ She let the words hover, certain it was what Angelique wanted to hear.

  Angelique could barely contain her excitement. She could deal with the issue of ‘settling down’ later but if Delphine was offering her a free pass back into the Ducasse family fold, she was going to grab it with both hands. The tea and chatter continued in a friendly fashion for the next hour or so, with Angelique employing all of her acting skills. As Delphine left, promising to get in touch soon, Angelique let out a sigh of relief and paid the bill. It had been hard work but well worth it. All she had to do now was wait for Delphine to call.

  In Paris, Ashton was showing Leoni the changes he’d made to his apartment. ‘As you can see, I’ve added those shelves and now the balcony really stands out with the addition of the period lighting.’

  ‘I love it, Ashton.’ Leoni looked round in wonder. ‘You have captured the essence of the building to a T.’ She smiled at him. ‘I know how much this place means to you.’

  Ashton nodded. ‘I wouldn’t give it up for anything.’

  ‘I don’t blame you,’ Leoni said. Through the window the Arc de Triomphe was outlined dramatically against the darkening night sky. She smoothed a hand down the skirt of her dress. It was a frothy number in a deep red, almost black crepe, with a square neckline and a full skirt. In truth, it was rather out of character for her, but it was beautiful and it was fun. Leoni couldn’t help thinking Jerard might not like it as he had mentioned how much he admired her sleek, businesslike style, but she quite liked wearing something that felt quirky and different.

  ‘Where are we off to again?’ she asked Ashton, thinking he looked rather dashing in his dark suit and snowy-white shirt. He had shaved, which she found slightly disappointing, and his hair was neatly combed.

  ‘A bar I discovered recently. You’ll love it. It has a dance floor too. It’s quite . . . romantic, actually.’ He faltered, wondering if he’d made the right decision to promise Leoni a night out there – it was all soft lighting and music to sway to. He had arranged it before he realised how besotted Leoni was with Jerard. But it was too late now.

  Ashton put on a tie, his fingers hovering in mid-air as Leoni leant over and straightened the knot. ‘What do you call this knot again?’

  Ashton smiled. ‘It’s a Windsor,’ he told her for what must be the tenth time.

  ‘Charming,’ she said with a smile. ‘So English . . . so very you, Ash.’

  ‘That’s me . . . so very, very English,’ Ashton said wryly, wondering why he felt irked by this description all of a sudden. Ever since Leoni had got together with Jerard, he had felt like a clunky spare part; Leoni’s boring, English sidekick who was good as a friend but nothing more. It had been that way between them for years but he supposed he had always felt heartened by the fact that he had never seen Leoni crazy about another man . . . therefore providing him with a shred of hope.

  ‘You look really pretty in that dress,’ Ashton blurted out, to cover his silence. ‘It’s not your usual style but it really suits you. It’s very . . . feminine.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Leoni blushed. She couldn’t remember when she’d last been described as feminine. ‘You are a true gentleman, always. Let’s go.’ She took his arm and they headed out of his apartment. Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at the bar of the new club Ashton had discovered.

  ‘It’s gorgeous,’ Leoni enthused, her cheeks flushed. She glanced over her shoulder at the band who were setting up at the edge of a stunning dance floor with glossy black and white checked tiles and moody lighting. It was full of couples, both old and young, and Leoni was particularly taken with an old couple who were already swaying on the dance floor, even though the band hadn’t properly started. With neat, grey hair and smart clothes, the couple moved in unison as though they could predict each other’s movements – no doubt from many years spent together. Leoni felt quite sentimental at the sight of them.

  Feeling desolate, Ashton could only think Leoni’s happiness was due to the text message she had just received. It had to be from Jerard; no one else’s texts made her smile from ear to ear. He ordered some of Leoni’s favourite champagne and watched her eyes spark with happiness. Did Jerard see Leoni’s beauty? he wondered. Did he see beyond the mannish glasses and the stiff, designer clothes to the incredible woman within?

  ‘You are lovely,’ Leoni said, her eyes shining behind her glasses as she waited for the champagne to be poured. ‘This trip has been great, you know. The building is exquisite and we’ve had so much time to talk. It’s been like old times … minus Olivier, of course.’

  ‘Let’s drink to him,’ Ashton said, raising his glass with a smile. ‘To Olivier. May he be drinking Dom Perignon in the sky – or in the ground – wherever he might have ended up.’

  Leoni sipped her champagne ruefully. She was fairly sure Olivier wasn’t wearing a halo and floating around with fluffy angels now that he’d passed on.

  The band struck up and Leoni recognised one of her favourite tunes. She threw Ashton a coy glance.

  ‘Nothing to do with me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Damn, I could have lied and said I’d arranged it and you’d have thought I was brilliant and the most thoughtful guy around.’

  ‘Shall we dance?’ She smiled, slipping off her seat. ‘Or do you have two left feet? I can’t remember.’

  Ashton straightened his tie. ‘Me? I can dance like a pro. My parents sent me to lessons when I was a child so I didn’t end up standing in the corner like a loser.’

  Twirling her around in the centre of the dance floor, he pulled her in close. With one hand on her waist and the other cupping her hand, Ashton swayed to the music, occasionally spinning Leoni out and pulling her back in again. She laughed breathlessly, taken aback that he was such a good dancer.

  ‘We’ve never danced before,’ she realised, surprised. ‘In all this time, we haven’t ever done this before. Isn’t that str
ange?’

  Ashton nodded, feeling her soft cheek against his, breathing in her perfume.

  Leoni smiled. She hadn’t enjoyed herself this much in ages – aside from the date with Jerard, of course. But that had been different, it had been more serious. Leoni decided she would bring Jerard here one day. It was so romantic with all the candles and the band playing live. If he wasn’t too busy with work, she would love to bring him to Paris – although she reminded herself that it was Jerard’s dedication to his company that made him so attractive. Leoni frowned; she couldn’t quite summon up his face but she supposed that happened when you didn’t see someone every day.

  ‘Isn’t it nice to do something like this?’ Ashton said out of the blue, pulling away to glance down at her. ‘I mean, business is important and we’re both very committed to what we do, but there’s something to be said for having fun, isn’t there? You know, love, family, relationships, all that kind of thing.’ He put his cheek against hers again.

  Ashton’s words mirrored what her grandmother had said before she left for Paris, Leoni thought with a jolt. She didn’t answer. In truth, she didn’t know if she should be prioritising business or pleasure right now.

  When the dance ended, Leoni pulled away and mumbled something about needing to go to the restroom. She found the old lady she’d noticed on the dance floor there, and was startled when she patted her cheek.

  ‘Such a lovely couple, you two,’ she said with a dimple. ‘Aaah, young love . . . it reminds me of when I met my husband.’

  ‘Oh, but we’re not a couple,’ Leoni corrected her, smiling.

  The old lady frowned. ‘No? You looked so right together.’ She shrugged. ‘Perhaps you should be a couple.’ She winked. ‘That much chemistry shouldn’t be ignored!’

  The old lady left the restroom, leaving Leoni pensive. She supposed a man and woman dancing together so closely would look like a couple to anyone who didn’t know them. But she felt unsettled.

  Leoni took out her mobile phone and dialled Jerard. She just wanted to hear his voice.

  ‘Jerard? It’s Leoni. I . . . just thought I’d call from Paris and see how you are.’ She stared at herself in the mirror and waited for his response. ‘You’re on a break from a meeting? Lucky I caught you for five minutes then.’ Forgetting all about Ashton waiting for her outside, Leoni willed Jerard to – verbally, at least – sweep her off her feet again.

  The day after the kiss at the restaurant, Cat found herself packing her bags with a heavy heart. The past twenty-four hours had been fraught with tension. She and Xavier had barely exchanged more than a few words afterwards. As ever, the only safe topic of conversation thereafter had been perfume but even that had become strained. Cat sat down abruptly on the bed.

  The heady kiss at the restaurant, with the rain pelting down around them, had been incredible. Knee-trembling, mindblowing and utterly unforgettable. Her body let her down constantly by filling with desire at the memory at the most inappropriate moments.

  She stood up and threw the last of her clothes into her bag. But the look on his face afterwards . . . Xavier’s eyes had been full of guilt, regret and intense disappointment in himself. It had been like a slap in the face. Cat guessed Xavier felt guilty about Olivier, and she knew she should be feeling that way too but she didn’t. His lies had seen to that. She didn’t feel remotely bad about kissing his cousin.

  Cat paused. Olivier had married her, so she supposed she had meant something to him. What had his long-term plans been? Had he even thought that far ahead – or had Olivier intended to pass himself off as a penniless waiter indefinitely?

  Cat sighed. She guessed she’d never know for sure now and unfortunately, the fact that Olivier had taken the step of marrying her didn’t provide much comfort any more.

  She put on a cream jumper over her jeans and hurried downstairs. She was due to meet Xavier outside and she didn’t want to keep him waiting. She found him leaning against his Aston Martin looking like a bloody film star and Cat wished he was less charismatic. Thoroughly fed up with the tension between them, she decided to bite the bullet.

  ‘Listen, about that kiss . . .’

  ‘What about it?’ Xavier threw her bag into the back of the car, his expression unreadable.

  Cat sighed. ‘Don’t you think you’re being a bit childish about it?’

  He let out a short laugh. ‘Childish? No, why on earth would you think that? It was a mistake, that’s all.’

  Offended, Cat leant on the car. ‘Yes, Xavier, we both know it was a mistake. You don’t have to rub it in.’

  He shrugged, as if he found the conversation tiresome. ‘We should just forget it.’

  Frustrated, Cat smacked her hands down on the Aston Martin. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she yelled. ‘You can’t even talk about a stupid kiss! Are you emotionally retarded or something?’

  Xavier recoiled as if Cat had slapped him. Emotionally retarded? How dare she! If anything, he was far too passionate about the things that mattered to him. He didn’t want to tell her about his past because he knew he’d be in danger of breaking down, and then what might she think of him? Would she think him pathetic for falling in love so deeply before falling apart when it all went wrong?

  ‘You don’t know me at all,’ he said coldly. ‘So don’t make assumptions about me.’

  Cat hardly heard him, she was so angry. ‘If you weren’t so screwed up, you’d understand that sometimes people do crazy things. People fall in love when they haven’t known each other for very long, they even occasionally kiss in the heat of the moment. These things happen!’

  Xavier opened his mouth to respond but Cat was on a roll.

  ‘And you’re a fine one to talk about making assumptions, Xavier! When did you make your mind up about me? When you heard Olivier had married me? Or was it when you saw me for the first time, while you were frolicking naked with one of your many girlfriends?’

  Xavier flushed. ‘I admit I had preconceptions about you but why wouldn’t I? Do you know how many people target our family because they know we’re wealthy?’

  ‘That doesn’t justify tarring everyone with the same brush. Oh, and by the way, thanks so much for letting me cry into my napkin and tell you intimate details about my family and my life, whilst you sit there on your high horse and decide that I’m too naive and silly to warrant any kind of openness back.’

  ‘That’s a ridiculous thing to say,’ Xavier told her in clipped tones. ‘That’s not what it is at all.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ Cat demanded, her hands on her hips. ‘Are you scared? Worried about what I might think of you? Or do you just hate feeling vulnerable?’

  All of the above, Xavier thought to himself tersely as he threw himself into the driving seat of his car. ‘We need to leave now,’ he said, putting his Ray-Bans on and staring straight ahead.

  ‘Too bloody right, we need to leave,’ Cat muttered under her breath and got into the car like a petulant child. She gritted her teeth and looked resolutely out of the window.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hard at work at La Fleurie, Leoni had barely thought of anything else but her home fragrance campaign, apart from the odd intrusion when Jerard flashed into her head. The campaign was taking shape nicely and it kept her focused whilst Jerard was busy with a large new contract he’d taken on; he was working on it pretty much night and day.

  Leoni had experienced the odd pang of anxiety over Jerard’s preoccupation with his new contract. She knew all about putting business first, especially when it was important, but she couldn’t help panicking that he was using it as an excuse to avoid her. Still, he’d sent her so many texts, as well as a bouquet of lilies, she had no real reason to doubt that he was simply caught up in business and too busy to visit.

  She eyed the large bunch of flowers which she’d displayed in a Lalique vase. Unfortunately lilies always reminded her of funerals. It wasn’t Jerard’s fault; he didn’t know her well enough to have any idea about her favou
rite flowers, or to know how many times she had seen lilies on fresh gravestones. Ashton, having known her for so many years, would of course know to send her lush, velvety pink roses should he ever feel the inclination to do so. It was going to take time for Jerard to get to know her, that was all.

  And vice versa, Leoni thought, realising she didn’t even know what Jerard did in his spare time, let alone what his favourite things were. She sincerely hoped he liked Paris because if they secured the shop, the first thing she wanted to do was take him there. Leoni had loved every minute of her recent trip there but it had been missing one thing – romance. Idly, she wondered if Ashton had taken anyone else to the lovely bar yet. He didn’t seem to be short of admirers; his answerphone had been full of messages from both English and French girls.

  And there had been a fair few messages from Marianne Peroux too, Leoni thought with pursed lips. She was fairly sure the woman applied the same rules to men as she clearly did to business: she wouldn’t stop until she got what she wanted. Leoni only hoped Marianne was after the building and not Ashton – for his sake.

  Something suddenly occurred to Leoni. Not once had Jerard made a move on her – not a serious one. She had planned to keep him at arm’s length – for a while, at least – but she hadn’t really needed to. Leoni felt a moment of panic. Perhaps he didn’t see her that way, perhaps he thought she was interesting but not sexually attractive. Although he had called her sexy at their first dinner date, hadn’t he? In a roundabout way, at least.

  Leoni tried to reassure herself. Why would Jerard be dating her if he didn’t find her physically attractive? Surely there wouldn’t be much point in that. Deciding to do something she hadn’t ever done before where a man was concerned, she did an internet search on Jerard. Taken aback, she discovered that the small store Jerard ran nearby was actually the tip of the iceberg – or rather, the cornerstone of his empire, as it were. He had stores selling all sorts of different items all over Europe and he had a huge business arm in Japan, of all places.