Just as Lucille went to close the door, Michelle came back.
“Are you alright?” she asked me.
I turned around.
“Yes. Why?”
She looked at me as if she was afraid I’d lost my mind.
“Look,” I said. “You can stay home. I don’t see the point in you coming here for only four hours. Ok?”
“Ok,” said Lucille and she dragged Michelle out of the boutique. “See you,” I heard them call as they closed the door behind them.
I followed and locked the doors as soon as I saw they’d left the hotel. I turned around the ‘closed’ sign and turned off the lights. The clock struck half past eleven and the first free practice was already over.
I went back to the office and took off my shoes. Sitting down on the couch, I turned on the television.
I stopped flicking through the channels when I saw cameras locked on the Crest Team’s section in the Paddock. As free practice was over, there was a report on the news about it.
The drivers had arrived back in the garages. The camera was focused on Lorcan Shore.
I stared at the television, enchanted. Seeing the race car and remembering the height of the man who had just emerged, I couldn’t help wondering how he managed to get in and out so easily.
The sound of the doorknob rattling returned me to reality. I looked quickly at the security camera screen to see what was going on out there, but whoever it was, he was now gone.
Suddenly, I had that strange feeling that someone was watching me. I looked back at the television screen and there he was. Staring directly into the camera, his eyes locked on it. Damn, my eyes were stuck to the screen.
Then he turned back to his team members, handing over the steering wheel. Still transfixed on the screen, my fingers found the off button on the remote control.
I shook my head; he had managed to unsettle me. Now that we’d met him in person, I couldn’t confess that, not to Lucille and Michelle. I liked the girls, but they loved to gossip.
I looked at the clock—it was almost half an hour after noon. It was time for me to go home. If anyone wanted any new fragrances, they would have to wait until tomorrow.
As I was alone, I decided to change my clothes in the office and soon I was ready to go. Going through the boutique, I scanned the room to see if anything was out of place. Everything looked normal and yet I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that something was not right.
As I unlocked the door to leave, I finally realised what it was that was out of place and unsettling me. Closing the door, I walked over to one of the shelves. There, standing in the middle of the wall, surrounded by mirrors on both sides and with lights that dropped the perfect amount of light on the shelf and the bottles, was a small card under a tear-shaped bottle. The bottle was my design and it held my perfume. Removing the white card, I saw the printed initials. Under them, written in quite beautiful handwriting, were the words: ‘I will come back later to pick this one up.’
“The hell you will,” I said out loud and put the card into my pocket. “You’ll never have it,” I swore through clenched teeth. “I would rather break every single bottle that I still have, than sell it to you.”
I took the bottle that was there only to fill the space on the shelf; dropped it into my bag and headed straight to the door.
This was my perfume. My personal fragrance and it was not for sale. The first one I made, after—.
“No way,” I looked across the boutique again and finally locked the door. “You’ll never have it!” When I turned around, I spotted some of the hotel staff watching me; I must have spoken a little bit too loudly.
I smiled and ran out of the hotel. For me the day was over; I needed to get out of Monaco and soon.
When I got to the car I was still mad. I didn’t understand why he had chosen my perfume. Nevertheless, he couldn’t have it for one of his ‘paddock bimbos’ as I called them. With every race, a new girl was seen in the pit-stop garage and the newspapers were full of stories about the latest conquest of the Golden Boy.
Finding my car, I unlocked it, put the roof down and got in. I was furious.
“No way. No silly girl will ever have my perfume!” I hadn’t noticed the car parked alongside mine, or its driver. The windows were down and he had heard everything. A pair of black eyes looked at me, with the same expression on his face as the hotel staff. I shrugged my shoulders and leaned back, putting my hands on the steering wheel.
“Angry, are we?”
“I can’t speak on your behalf. I expect no less from you.”
Before I managed to start the engine, a not so distant roar like thunder cut through the air. We looked at each other, recognition in our eyes—the start of second free practice.
I drove slowly away, leaving him behind. I wanted to get out of town as soon as possible.
I heard the phone ringing in my handbag, but I didn’t want to answer. I knew who it was. I was too angry to respond to the call. Harry Dame would have known in an instant that I was a mess. My voice always revealed how I felt. I was in no mood for interrogation.
Anne-Marie looked at me as if I were a ghost. I waved at her and almost ran into the house. I needed a cold shower before I was ready to see other people.
She waited on the back porch, a cup of coffee on the table. Her three small mongrels lounged in the shade of the bushes in the garden
Walking onto the porch, I felt the sea breeze. I was grateful to Dame that he had rented this house. I loved living near the beach.
“You’re home early,” Anne-Marie sat down. She put a cup of coffee and homemade chocolate cup-cakes, my favourites, in front of me.
“Yes,” I sighed and nodded at the same time. “You know how crowded Monaco is this weekend.”
She nodded in response.
“So, what shall we do? Philippe is out of town,” she said.
“Well, we can sit here or go for a stroll on the beach. It’s a beautiful afternoon and I need a long walk,” I suggested.
We spent the rest of the day together walking on the beach. I learned more about her that afternoon than in the last three years. Although not really saying out loud, I read between the lines that she wasn’t happy with the restrictions of her marriage, but she was too scared to challenge her over possessive husband.
During our walk, she suddenly said,
“You must be hungry.”
“I am, but,” I raised my hand and stopped her before she started to speak again, “you will not cook. Today we’ll eat Chinese food.”
“Right. Won’t argue with you. I love Chinese, but Philippe doesn’t, so the only time I can eat it is with you.”
Relaxing for the remainder of the afternoon on the porch, time passed quickly.
Hearing a car pulling up her house, we both knew that André, her youngest had arrived home. We said good bye and I stayed alone on the porch. Even her dogs left me.
The sun was setting when I finally decided to go back inside. The lights glistening on the sea were beautiful. The town itself looked like a big diamond necklace resting on a black velvet pouch. But that was not what I was looking for. I decided to go for a drive.
Once at the top of Grand Corniche, I chose to turn right onto a gravel road. I drove some distance until the lights of the car illuminated a big piece of limestone. I’d found that spot several months ago, quite accidently.
I parked the car and got out, leaving the radio on. A good fifteen feet ahead, the plateau ended sharply. I sat on the edge.
As I looked at the lights in the bay, everything came back to me with a familiar force. I hardly remembered my parents. I had been very young when they died. I was brought up by my elder brother who was already legally an adult by then, and he was able to take care of me. As we inherited our parents’ fashion business, we were taken care of financially, but that had not been something that I had thought about at that time.
My brother brought me up well, with everything I would ever need and a
lso with good principles. Yet one summer, in Paris, not long after I turned the corner into adulthood, I turned my life around and that changed me. At the time I never knew how much.
I sighed as I was afraid of what I was about to do, but it needed to be done. It was time. I wouldn’t allow myself to forget; I couldn’t forget. My small handbag was lying next to me and I took out my purse. In it was the most precious thing I owned.
Hiding the photograph and letter between my palms, I finally found enough courage to open my hands and look at the photo. The letter fell into my lap. In the glare of the headlights, I was able to see the photo clearly and the eyes of a baby boy staring back at me, not quite ten months old. I remembered the colour of those eyes. They were green, like mine.
That photo was taken more than five years ago and it was all that I had left. I wiped away the tears that had started to fall. I didn’t want to damage the picture. The photo had already felt my tears too many times. I kissed it and put it back into my purse.
I looked at the white paper in my lap: it was not as old as the photo, but the contents that it held were almost as precious for me as the photo itself. I didn’t need to read it; I already knew the words by heart.
I pulled my legs to me and hugged them. The city far below was alive. The night was dark and life went on, no matter how my heart ached, no matter how much I hoped.
I knew … someday I would find him. No matter what the letter said.
Coming back to work on Friday morning was difficult. Every time I allowed myself to grieve about the past, I always felt the same. Exhausted. But work was necessary. I had a contract with the hotel and I had to honour it. I was a little angry with myself that I hadn’t asked Michelle or Lucille to come in instead of me.
After a quick shower and an even quicker breakfast, I got into the car and drove my daily route back to Monaco. It was another sunny Friday and sun was not something that Monaco lacked. Almost five years ago, I had decided to move from London to Paris and afterwards to Nice, because of the weather. And to leave all the sad memories behind. However, memories followed me and I couldn’t escape them. I had learned that much in the last few years.
Parking my car and walking to the hotel was not unusual. What was unusual was the silence. A strange silence for a racing weekend in May.
When I arrived at the hotel, Marcel was already in his usual spot.
“Bonjour, Desiree. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it? I will not have to wear these so much today.” Marcel showed me his earplugs. I smiled.
“Bonjour, Marcel. Why?” He looked at me quizzically.
“Didn’t you hear?”
I shook my head. Holding my handbag and phone in one hand and my car keys in the other, I slowly put the keys in my jacket pocket and pushed the handbag straps back on my shoulder.
“What?”
“Well, they cancelled the free practice for today,” he said.
“Free practice … ” I said, but Marcel interrupted me:
“Yes, for the F1 race.”
He was right. I hadn’t heard that. I’d missed the last evening news last night, because of my… My thoughts wandered off. Returning to the memories in my head from the previous day was a dangerous thing to do … particularly when people were around.
His last words brought me back, although I hadn’t heard half of what he’d said.
“And left when he was told that the Jasmine is closed.”
I shook my head. I needed to get back to the present and fast.
“Sorry. Who left?”
“A man,” he answered. I had a feeling he was hiding something from me. I must have looked confused, as he started to smile.
“The one that was here yesterday morning.” I knew who he was talking about and Marcel knew I remembered. I felt the blood rushing to my face and I realised I was turning red. Hell! Again! I didn’t want that.
“He came back?” I asked, my voice cracking.
“Yes and.” I couldn’t control my blushing anymore, so I interrupted him, apologising with the excuse that I needed to open the perfumery. Marcel’s sincere laughter followed me in.
I unlocked the door. Stepping inside Jasmine, I was alone for some minutes. The smell that the room had was unique and every day was different.
I dropped my mobile on the counter and slowly went to the back office. There I quickly checked the computer. The news I had missed the evening before was still on the first page of the news channel’s website: ‘Free practice cancelled’.
I was sitting down, trying to read the article, when I heard the front door open. A quick check into the security camera’s screen revealed that I had a customer; a male customer wearing a baseball cap. That was interesting. Usually all the male customers were accompanied by women and weren’t dressed so casually.
“Good morning,” I heard as soon as the door closed behind him. He looked around and finally approached the shelves containing my own collections of fragrances.
I fixed my glasses in place and went back to the perfumery.
“Good morning,” I answered. “How can I help you?”
Something in his figure was dangerously familiar. He was dressed in jeans and a tight grey tee shirt. Then I recognised him. I stopped abruptly.
“I came back here yesterday afternoon,” he said slowly as he saw me in the wall mirror. He turned around. His silver eyes were looking at me.
“I’m sorry; you must have come after I locked up.”
He removed his cap with his left hand and ran his right hand through his slightly long black hair. I knew that move of his. He repeated it frequently on the screen and at every press conference … and interview …
Stop it! I reprimanded myself silently.
“Are you really?” he asked.
“It’s the same every year when the Formula 1 is in the Principality,” I explained.
“You wanted to watch the race?” He looked intrigued.
“It wasn’t the race, it was free practice,” I automatically answered and then felt like an idiot. I was explaining to the World Formula 1 Champion what had happened the day before.
“Touché. You’re absolutely right,” he said simply. I wanted to be free of him as soon as possible. Pushing my fake glasses back on, I asked again:
“How can I help you?” I was all business.
“I came to get the perfume,” he answered.
“Which one?”
“The one, on the.” he turned back to the shelf and suddenly fell silent.
“But … that perfume was there only yesterday …,” he said. In the mirror I saw him wrinkle his forehead. “In a small crystal bottle …”
“All perfumes are in crystal bottles.”
“in the shape of a tear,” he continued and turned back to face me.
I could hardly conceal my surprise. He was the first customer who had recognised the shape of the bottle. Usually they didn’t bother with that level of detail.
“I know which one you’re talking about. Unfortunately it was there by mistake. The perfume was not for sale.” I opened my hands in fake sorrow. I felt victorious.
He looked like he’d lost the ability to speak and suddenly I felt awkward. To break the silence I walked past him to the shelf and moved the other four bottles. Pretending to rearrange the shelf wasn’t helping. Those strange feelings went through me again, similar to the ones I had felt on the Grande Corniche. I was standing too close to him. I searched his face in the mirror and there it was; that ‘trance’ look on his face.
“Don’t understand.”
“The perfume you’re talking about was on a sale test for a month. It should be removed after the testing period was finished, but it wasn’t,” I lied and turned around. “The management decided not to continue with the sale. It didn’t meet the sales criteria.”
“What? I don’t understand. My card should mean something.” He was reverting to his celebrity personality again. I almost laughed. Not this time!
“I’m sorry.” I w
asn’t sorry.
“Who can I talk to?”
“In Monte Carlo? No one.”
“Except you?” he said angrily. I wasn’t prepared for that tone. I took a deep breath and counted to ten, to stay calm. It was a technique I learned from my psychologist.
“I just explained. The perfume was there by mistake. It shouldn’t be there but unfortunately it was. I can help you find a similar fragrance if you want. I’m sure one of these will suit you perfectly.”
I gestured at the shelves housing the other fragrances, emblazoned with their celebrities’ names. Some of them were my creations, though that was never to be revealed.
His grey eyes became dangerously silver. It was like a storm gathering. I presumed he was accustomed to getting what he wanted.
“No, thank you,” he said sarcastically. “I wanted that perfume and no other.”
“I’m really sorry,” I said. My acting skills in his presence had improved enormously. He turned around, not saying anything. I did the same and started to rearrange the fragrances on the wall. I was sure he would leave if I ignored him for long enough.
I was wrong. The sound of breaking glass made me turn abruptly and I landed squarely on to his muscular chest. Before I could step back, he took my face into his hands, leaned in and kissed me—passionately.
It took my breath away, literally. Never in my life had I experienced anything like it. I was like stone, but that didn’t stop him. I felt his tongue brush over my lips and at the same time he wrapped his right arm around my shoulders and tightened his grip. He could not have held me any closer.
My mind went blank. My resistance failed completely. Before I could think properly, my body responded to his touch and I answered with a passion that scared me. His searching tongue parted my lips, probing my mouth and deepening the kiss.
I was soon brought back to reality with a bump. The door of the Jasmine opened. Somehow, I found the strength to push him away. My mind was still blank, so my actions were pure instinct. Lorcan managed to get his balance back as it was clear he was not expecting to be pushed away with such a force. He stopped only a feet away from the next wall, before hitting it.
All That the Heart Desires Page 3