Behind Xavier but very clearly with him was Angelique, wearing a racy dress in her favourite shade of scarlet, killer heels and an extremely smug smile. From the way she was clutching him possessively, Cat was pretty sure they’d been glued together in the limo all the way from the hotel to the store.
Feeling very much as though she was going to be sick, Cat realised the tag line on the billboard meant nothing. Or maybe Xavier did feel that way about life now, but very evidently he didn’t feel that way about her. Cat bit her lip, forcing back the tears. She must have imagined the kiss after he had rescued her and any hopes she had been harbouring about him were clearly foolish, just an embarrassing fantasy. Forgetting about the message Xavier had given her on the card in her handbag and unable to stomach the sight of Angelique smirking and cosying up to Xavier any longer, Cat looked round for the nearest exit.
‘Ashton.’ Marianne slid her arms round him and made him jump.
‘Marianne!’ Ashton frowned and extricated himself from her grasp. Glancing over his shoulder, he wondered if Leoni had witnessed Marianne’s overly flirtatious greeting. He sincerely hoped not, although it probably didn’t matter anyway as Leoni obviously wasn’t speaking to him. Ashton sighed. He was consumed with regret; it was probably far too late for him and Leoni now. What a mess, he thought. Talk about bad timing. It was like that film, Sliding Doors. Except that the main characters in the film hadn’t been manipulated by a spoilt, self-indulgent idiot like Olivier, Ashton thought angrily.
‘You’re not even invited,’ he told Marianne when he’d pulled himself together.
She smirked. ‘I know, isn’t it delicious? But, chéri, I had to come, you must know that.’ Wearing an emerald-green suit with a knee-length skirt and a jacket with a nipped-in waist and peplum edge, Marianne looked every inch the successful businesswoman she was. The colour complemented her long russet hair which was loose except for a pretty comb to one side. The well-cut suit made the most of her full curves, leaving little to the imagination. She eyed Ashton hungrily, regretting that things hadn’t become more intimate between them. He really was quite a catch.
Ashton courteously handed Marianne a glass of champagne. ‘Guy Ducasse. That’s why you’re here.’
She pulled a face. ‘Some people get under your skin, don’t they?’
Ashton stared at Leoni. ‘Don’t I know it,’ he murmured. He wanted to go to her, to talk to her. She looked so thin and pale, he wanted to gather her up protectively and never let her go again. He wondered if she had broke up with Jerard but refused to feel hopeful about the prospect. If it had caused her to look so horribly ill, he would rather that wasn’t the reason, even if it meant his love for her going unrequited indefinitely.
Ashton downed his glass of champagne in one go, wishing things were different.
Marianne’s teeth gnawed at her bottom lip. Feeling uncharacteristically uncomfortable, she battled with herself. God, is this what it’s like to have a conscience? she thought irritably. She came to a decision. ‘I . . . have a confession to make,’ she informed Ashton rather grandly, feeling cross with herself. Did she really have to do this?
Ashton wasn’t listening. All he could think about was how achingly vulnerable Leoni looked with her fragile collarbone exposed in the deep V of the navy dress. Marianne, however, had made an unprecedented decision to be truthful, so she insisted on being heard. ‘There was a day some while back when Leoni Ducasse visited you here at the shop.’
‘I know. What do you think all the texts you’ve ignored have been about?’ Ashton glanced at her impatiently.
‘Yes, well. I need to tell you something about it.’ Marianne squirmed as she felt his cornflower-blue eyes boring into her intently. ‘I may have . . . misled Leoni somewhat.’
Ashton felt his stomach lurch. ‘What have you done?’ He knew that whatever Marianne had said, it would be part, if not all, of the reason Leoni was no longer speaking to him. Christ, wasn’t it bad enough that Olivier had destroyed any chance they had of being together?
Marianne coughed. ‘I may have mentioned that we came to a special agreement about the shop.’
He frowned. ‘We did. I wasn’t intending to tell Leoni that but if she knows, she knows.’ What did it matter any more? he thought to himself.
‘I didn’t tell her the actual details of the deal,’ Marianne confessed. ‘In fact, I do believe I made her think you and I had slept together. That the sacrifice you made was your . . . body.’
Ashton gaped at her. ‘You did what?’ Recoiling, he shook his head. ‘You didn’t . . . you wouldn’t. Marianne, you know how I feel about her! Why would you make her think I did something like that?’
Marianne flipped her russet hair over her shoulder, shifting from one foot to the other. Damn this conscience! ‘I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry, I really am. But Leoni looked like Bambi standing there with her big eyes and that … that Ducasse nose.’ She refrained from saying she thought Leoni was plain and drab looking; she knew Ashton’s feelings ran deeper than that.
Ashton stopped short. ‘She reminded you of Guy. That’s it, isn’t it? You looked at her, and she reminded you of Guy and you couldn’t help yourself. God, Marianne, you really should be ashamed of yourself.’ His temper was mounting and he couldn’t hide it. ‘Just because you once lost the one person you loved, you have no right to destroy Leoni’s opinion of me. We were friends. Do you even care about that?’
Marianne was shocked. Ashton was so mild mannered, so British. It was unnerving to see him so angry.
Furiously, he stabbed a finger in Guy’s direction. ‘If you love the man, go and fucking well tell him! It’s not a bloody crime to have feelings, you know.’ Ashton paused. ‘Isn’t this more about the fact that you let Guy down all those years ago?’ he added softly. ‘You feel guilty about that and about your feelings, but you’ll never know for sure if he’s forgiven you if you don’t speak to him.’
Marianne flinched as if he’d slapped her. About to retort that Ashton was wrong, she caught sight of Guy for the first time in years. Standing by the front of the store, chatting to the Hollywood actor everyone was gawping at, Guy looked relaxed and debonair. He looked older, of course; he had more lines and his dark hair had turned silver, but it suited him. Always suave and always impeccably dressed, time and age had simply given Guy an added air of charm and experience that made him seem utterly irresistible.
Marianne hated herself as she felt her heart shift. Was Ashton right? Was that why she had deliberately destroyed Leoni’s faith in Ashton, because deep down she felt so overwhelmed with guilt about the way she had treated Guy? Marianne realised she had never fallen out of love with him, even after all this time. Turning to Ashton, she put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m truly sorry, Ashton. You have always been a perfect gentleman and I have let you down appallingly.’
Taken aback at her heartfelt apology, Ashton calmed down fractionally. ‘It’s fine. It’s done . . . it’s just . . . I know what Leoni must think of me now.’
Marianne glanced in Leoni’s direction, a smile playing at her lips. ‘As for you being friends, I think there is far more than that going on . . . on both sides.’ Registering the astonishment on his face, she nodded wryly. ‘And while we’re on the subject, take your own advice, eh? Tell her you love her. Before it’s too late. Life is too short, as they say. Go on, Ashton. You may well be surprised by her response.’
As she swished away in her expensive suit, Ashton digested her words. Marianne was right about one thing: life was too short. Enough time had been wasted and he had one last chance to make things right. His heart thumping in his chest, Ashton headed straight for Leoni.
Angelique smirked as wafts of Xavier’s new fragrance were pumped into the store. It was a runaway success, beautiful, sophisticated and sexy. She caught sight of Cat Hayes and threw her a triumphant smile. The girl looked pretty enough, Angelique sniffed; the expensive turquoise dress brought out the startling aquamarine of her eyes and comp
lemented the golden tan she had acquired at La Fleurie but that was about it. She was no match for a real woman like herself; it was like comparing a magnificent tigress to a cute kitten, she purred to herself. The tigress, powerful and strong, would always win out in the end.
As everyone exclaimed and tried to capture the scent in their fingers as it bewitchingly evaporated, the smile faded from Angelique’s face. She sniffed the air as a fresh bout of perfume was spritzed into the store. The fragrance smelt different to how she remembered it. It was richer, rounder and there were tones to it that hadn’t existed before. Its new component was something sensual and earthy, with citrus undertones.
But how could that be? Angelique frowned as she sniffed the bare skin of her arm, inhaling the gorgeous scent as it settled there. Had Xavier added something else to the formula? And if so, when?
The penny dropped at the same time as Angelique’s stomach. Xavier’s visit to Morocco – it had been to get more ingredients for the fragrance. She hadn’t made the connection; her previous visits to Morocco had been for pleasure, not for work, and any treks through the souk had most assuredly not been fragrance-related. But Morocco was famous for perfume ingredients and Xavier knew the country well. Angelique felt her world shift imperceptibly. The fragrance was different and this changed everything; suddenly, the strong, secure hold she assumed she had over her life and her future felt as flimsy as paper. All her back-up plans had just gone up in smoke and the one thing she had taken as security to set herself up for life had changed. Her own perfume, based on the incredible scent Xavier had created, had been her back-up plan if it didn’t work out with Xavier. But now that he had changed it and the formula was different, it would be impossible for her to replicate it.
Trying to control her breathing, Angelique’s blue eyes frantically searched for Xavier in the crowds. He was nowhere to be seen and neither was the English girl, Cat. Panicked, Angelique tried to tell herself she had nothing to worry about. Posing for a photograph with an American singer young enough to be her son, she plastered a smile on her face and willed everything to go her way. If she no longer had her back-up plan, Angelique knew she had to make damned sure Xavier proposed to her by the end of the evening.
Seeing Ashton and Marianne talking chummily in the corner, Leoni was desperate to get away. Joyce Lyfield was making a beeline for her and Leoni wasn’t sure she could cope with her brand of friendly, well-meant chatter, not when Joyce reminded her so desperately of Ashton. But why did that matter so much? Leoni asked herself, wondering why she felt so profoundly distressed about Marianne’s revelation about him. Was she . . . dear God, was she jealous? Shaking the odd thought off, Leoni found Joyce Lyfield by her side.
Used to seeing Ashton’s mother in practical gardening clothes, she smiled as she checked out Joyce’s classy black cocktail gown. High at the neck and falling below the knee, it was surprisingly stylish and her faded blond hair was neatly brushed and held back with a black satin bow.
‘Leoni, darling. Wonderful dress you’ve got on . . . couldn’t wear it with my matronly chest, of course.’ Gathering Leoni into a hug, Joyce was startled to feel the younger girl’s hip bones against her plump middle. She was literally skin and bones and the cutaway dress, stunning as it was, didn’t do much to hide her protruding collarbone and visible ribs.
‘Now, have you spoken to Ashton yet?’
Leoni shook her head, her mouth quivering. ‘N-no, I haven’t. We . . . we don’t have much to say to one another at the moment, I’m afraid.’
‘Nonsense,’ Joyce said firmly. She took Leoni’s cold hand in her own rather weathered one. Year-round gardening wasn’t conducive to silky-smooth fingertips but Joyce knew where her priorities lay. Arthur didn’t care one jot about her rough hands and that was all that mattered. ‘Darling, whatever anyone else says, the one thing you should always trust is your heart. Don’t believe everything you hear, just focus on what you know.’
Leoni blinked at her. ‘I don’t have a clue what my heart is saying. And I’m pretty sure I don’t know what I know, as you put it.’
‘Yes you do,’ Joyce told her cheerfully. ‘Just speak to him and everything will be all right.’
Leoni let out a small laugh which turned into a gulp. ‘You would say that, you’re his mother. He can do no wrong in your eyes.’
‘Of course he can!’ Joyce tipped Leoni’s chin up and looked her in the eye. ‘I was furious with Ashton when he booted a football through my kitchen window at the age of fourteen and I was just as angry when he got drunk and threw up all over my favourite sofa. But ultimately I know he’s trustworthy and so do you. He’s a good man. And you need to ask yourself why you’re so upset about what you’ve heard.’ She winked at Leoni. ‘Why is that, Leoni? Now do excuse me, I rather fancy another glass of the bubbly stuff.’
Leoni faltered as Joyce swished away in her dress. Why was she so upset about what she’d heard from Marianne? Why did it matter so much? Turning, she found Ashton at her elbow. He looked . . . just like Ashton always did. But suddenly, Leoni felt as though she was looking at him through new eyes. His preppy blond hair was smoothed back, apart from a lock that had fallen across his forehead. His cornflower-blue eyes were clear and he had shaved recently because there was a tiny nick on his neck. Leoni stared at his mouth, wondering how she had forgotten how sexy it was.
‘We need to talk,’ Ashton said, unnerved by her scrutiny. ‘Marianne just told me what she said to you.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Leoni shrugged, turning away. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye, not if he was going to talk to her about Marianne.
‘This is important, Leoni. Really important.’ Ashton forced her to look at him and almost caved when he saw how vulnerable she looked. Her beautiful lips quivered and her brown eyes, not hidden behind glasses for once, looked wide and scared. ‘I didn’t sleep with Marianne.’
His words filled Leoni with relief. ‘You . . . you didn’t?’
‘No.’ Ashton shook his head. ‘I didn’t sleep with her and I have never wanted to. Listen, Olivier mucked things up for both of us.’
Leoni frowned. ‘What do you mean? What does Olivier have to do with this?’
‘Everything . . . nothing. Listen, Xavier told me you had feelings for me once.’ Ashton’s blue eyes pleaded with Leoni’s. ‘Please be honest, L. It’s important.’
Blushing furiously and making a mental note to slap Xavier hard later, she cast her eyes down. ‘All right, I did. A long time ago – for quite a long time, actually. It was lucky Olivier told me you wouldn’t ever see me as anything other than his sister, otherwise I would have gone on trotting after you like a lapdog, as he put it.’
Ashton let out an angry exclamation. ‘Leoni, I had no idea! Olivier had no right to say those things to you. To say them to me.’
‘To you?’
He nodded. ‘Olivier knew I was in love with you and he put paid to it by telling me a whole pack of lies. Like a fool, I believed him. But it hasn’t really changed anything. It stopped me from telling you how I felt but my feelings have stayed the same.’ Ashton looked embarrassed. ‘Even after all this time.’
Leoni looked up at him. ‘W-what feelings are they?’
Ashton took her hands. ‘I have only ever truly been in love with one woman. You. It’s always been you.’
So Xavier was right, Leoni thought, her knees going wobbly. She felt overwhelmed but euphoric; Ashton’s declaration was startling yet at the same time it was everything she wanted to hear. And she was angry, livid, at what Olivier had done. It was so selfish, so unnecessary. Had he really been so insecure that he felt the need to keep his best friend and his sister apart, even though he knew they had deep, genuine feelings for each other?
Leoni felt so disappointed in her younger brother, she could barely think straight. But about one thing she was absolutely clear: she loved Ashton. That’s why she’d been so upset to hear Marianne talking about sleeping with Ashton, why she had never fully
invested in her relationship with Jerard, why she wasn’t more cut up about the relationship coming to an end. She was about to tell Ashton what she’d taken so long to work out when something occurred to her.
‘What did you sacrifice?’
Ashton started. ‘My apartment,’ he answered flatly. ‘I sacrificed my apartment to get this store. Marianne wanted it and I . . .’ He paused, wincing as he finally uttered the words out loud. ‘And I gave it to her.’
‘No,’ Leoni whispered in horror. ‘But you love that place . . . it was the one thing you loved most in the world.’
Ashton shook his head, looking down at her earnestly. ‘No, that’s you. I did it for you, because even if you’re still with Jerard and you don’t feel anything for me at all, I wanted you to have the store.’ He smiled at her. ‘It’s an apartment, L. I loved it, but I love you more. I love your ambition and your dedication but I love your sensitivity too, however well hidden it is.’ Ashton stroked her arm. ‘You’re beautiful . . . and I want you, all of you.’
Leoni closed her eyes and tears slid down her cheeks. It was too romantic for words. No one had ever done something like this for her and she could hardly believe she deserved it. Ashton . . . her Ashton, had done this for her and she alone knew what an enormous sacrifice it was. And he wanted her; he didn’t just love her, he wanted her. After Jerard’s indifference, it mattered to be desired . . . it mattered that Ashton desired her. Leoni opened her eyes and linked her fingers through his. His blue eyes widened and she gulped, doing her best to be brave. She wasn’t used to talking about her feelings but she knew this was the right time to start. ‘I love you,’ she said, smiling through her tears. ‘Not because you gave up your beloved apartment for me, although it is so achingly romantic, I can barely stand it. I just . . . love you.’ She reached up and touched his mouth. ‘I can’t believe it’s taken us this long to be honest about our feelings.’
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