That terrifying thought stayed with me as I strolled along the wharf. When I recognized the Riveting moored to the docks, I was again reminded of the Beauregards’ impressive wealth. It’s not like they needed the money—though the rich always wanted more. And Astor struck me as a man who loved to wallow in luxury.
Still, up there on that yacht was a possible resolution to all of this. And this time I’d be staying aboard no matter what.
I was wearing my floral print dress and gold sandals, and I felt sure I could easily hide in the crowd. I made my way along the bridge and was met with loud club music and people talking over it. Some guests wore bikinis…this didn’t look like a professional soiree at all.
So this was how the Beauregard family threw a big reveal—they served champagne and appetizers on silver trays carried by staff in white uniforms. They played rock music and gave the party a relaxed feel to woo the staff into thinking they were a fun company to work for.
I didn’t recognize anyone as I hurried to find a secluded area to hide out in until we left the harbor. We’d be halfway out on the ocean by the time I made an appearance. I sought out a cabin where I could avoid the guests and lock myself inside. If they were showcasing my work tonight, I would get the chance to get close to it. Then I’d confront Astor and his sister in front of everyone.
The engine thrummed to life and we headed out to sea.
Pacing back and forth in the small space, I ran through all the events that had led me here. I should have gone with a different security company. Not the local firm that was the least expensive and the most likely to fail to keep my precious place safe. I’d been so obsessed with my work I’d not raised my head long enough to see the threat from my competitors. Knowing my carelessness had caused the loss of my most unique scent left a bitter taste in my mouth.
It was easy to restock the store, but the theft of my beloved fragrance, the one I had worked so hard to perfect, left me feeling violated. After my divorce it felt like the final blow. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over this string of betrayals. The dull ache in my heart was a constant anguish I couldn’t shake.
There’s no other way.
My chances of getting that scent back were slim to none, but I clung to the hope. Being on this boat was like stepping out onto a high wire knowing that a fall was imminent.
Time dissolved as I finally settled into a comfortable chair and waited while going over all the things I was going to say if I got caught before I pounced on them.
Someone rapped on the cabin door.
I sprung up out of my seat and waited to see if they knocked again.
“Ms. Wren.” A woman’s voice.
Oh, God.
With a twist of the lock I had the door open and peered out at a waitress holding a tray carrying a glass of champagne and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
She gave me a polite smile. “Mr. Beauregard wanted to offer you some refreshments.”
Almost cringing, I opened the door wider to see if he was with her.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
I stepped back and she walked into the cabin, placing the tray on a side-table.
“Mr. Beauregard wanted to make sure you’re comfortable.”
“I’m fine.”
She turned to leave.
“Do you know where Mr. Beauregard is right now?”
“He just left.”
“What do you mean he left?” We’re out on the ocean!
She glanced at her watch. “You might catch him.”
I recalled Astor mentioning he had a garage for his speedboat on the Riveting. “Is he getting on his boat? Can you take me there?”
“Sure.”
I hurried along the starboard side of the ship close behind her, stealing a glance at the vast ocean. We were definitely in the middle of nowhere.
When we reached a narrow staircase, the girl pointed down to the deck below.
“He’s down there.”
She left to return to her duties and I descended the winding steps into what looked like a hub.
I stopped halfway down when I saw Astor.
He was dressed in black slacks and a white shirt and was tieless, looking all kinds of suave as he lowered a speedboat into the water. His gaze rose to meet mine.
“How’s the party?”
I suddenly felt tongue-tied, and cringed through the awkward silence that followed.
He grinned and it was one of those heart-stopping smiles. “I’m making a getaway before anyone notices.”
I smiled, trying not to look guilty. “I thought this was a work event.”
“Private party.” He gestured toward the upper deck.
“You’re not revealing something new?”
“No.” Astor watched me carefully. “But now that you’re here you’re welcome to stay.”
I didn’t want to be left alone with Penelope.
The speedboat swayed as it met the water and then floated into the center of the hub.
Astor held out his hand to me. “Wanna escape?”
I flew down the remaining steps and accepted his outstretched hand. As I climbed into the speedboat, it wobbled slightly beneath me. I made myself comfortable in the passenger seat and then watched Astor climb in beside me.
When he leaned toward me super close I froze, and then realized he was securing my seatbelt by tugging it across my chest before clipping it in. His cologne wafted over me and a shudder ran up my spine.
He gave the belt an extra tug before moving away. “We can never be too careful, Raquel.” He faced the control panel without clipping his own belt in.
I made a mental note to mention it to him once my breathing returned to normal and my heart stopped hammering. This man’s charisma was off the charts. He probably knew I was on the boat the moment I boarded, and me not mixing with the other guests had to have looked suspicious.
The engine roared to life. We were forced back in our seats as we zoomed out from beneath the Riveting, skimming along the water. I turned slightly to see the yacht getting smaller behind us. At this speed we’d be back to Key West in no time.
“How was your first week?” Astor raised his voice above the engine.
Locks of hair whipped around my face and I tried to get them under control.
“Great,” I yelled.
“Settling in?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Astor drew back on the throttle, reducing our speed so we could talk more easily.
“So tell me more about you, Raquel.”
“I grew up in England.” I reached out and gripped the side of the boat as it bounced along. “I was hired by Parfum De Royal to head up their lab. Stayed there for five years until I opened my own place.” I felt a stab of regret for bringing it up.
“That was how you came to America?”
“Yes.”
“How about before then?”
“I studied at Cambridge.”
“And before that?”
“I grew up in Penzance.”
“Are your parents still living there?”
“No, not anymore.” On his glance my way I added, “I was in foster care for a while.”
“May I ask why?”
“My mother wasn’t well enough to take care of me.” I drew in a sharp breath and prepared to tell the tried and tested tale. “She had leukemia. She died soon after I arrived in my first foster home.” I gave a shrug. “My memories of her are happy ones. Trips to the beach…building sandcastles, eating Cornish ice cream. Visiting her favorite perfume store in Truro. She made Christmas and birthdays special.”
“I’m sorry.” He seemed genuinely sincere. “There weren’t any other relatives who could take you in?”
“No.”
He caught and held my gaze. “You’ve done well, Raquel. Your mom would be proud of you.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, not wanting to disagree and ruin the moment. I was a divorcée who was in the process of losing all I had bui
lt up over the years so I felt more of a failure than I ever had. “I was offered a job in New York and things took off from there.”
He flashed a smile. “Your résumé is impressive. I’m flattered you want to work for me. ”
I gripped my seat when we hit a wave. “You’re the best there is, Mr. Beauregard.” Then quickly added, “I mean…your company is the best.”
The sunset was glorious and even though I’d failed to get the answers I needed there was still a possibility I would find a moment to talk with Astor later. I was sure he’d be reasonable. He was certainly being accommodating right now.
I laid my head back and savored the sunny view, the rush of the wind cooling my face. I found myself relaxing and then realized I was actually having fun.
“Can I ask you something personal?” he said.
“Sure.”
“Are you in debt?”
“Not if I sell my store. Why?”
“Just trying to work out your motivation.”
“For working for you?” I turned to look at him. “I’m grateful for my job.”
“I have this feeling, Raquel, that you’re not telling me the truth.”
“About what?”
He stared at me, his smile seductive.
“Does this have anything to do with the quality of my work?” I asked.
“I’m sure your work is exceptional.”
Ahead, I could see what looked like the mirage of a harbor. I squinted to try and locate a landmark, but nothing looked familiar. I was going to have to find my way back to Key West. Maybe Astor would consider giving me a lift.
“Where are we?” My frown deepened as I took in the whitewashed homes and colorful stores beyond the marina. I still saw nothing recognizable as he directed the boat toward the dock.
“This is your moment to confess, Raquel.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t like secrets—especially when they affect me.”
“I don’t have any,” I said, glaring at him. “Why would you say that?”
“The evidence.”
“What evidence?”
“You turned up at my home unannounced and apparently my sister had no appointment with you.”
“A misunderstanding.”
“Ah, so that explains it.”
A feeling of dread stole over me, giving me goose flesh. “Where are we?”
He held my gaze. “Havana.”
I blinked at him, trying to process the information, and hoping I would soon hear the punch-line of his joke.
Pushing himself up, he threw the rope to a young man who secured our boat to a wooden post as he chatted with Astor—in Spanish.
“This isn’t possible,” I muttered.
I stared at the foreigners milling about…no, I was the foreigner. I tried to calm my panicked thoughts, my chest tight with disbelief. “Are you getting off here?”
“I’ve arrived at my destination.” He leaped onto the marina. “So apparently I am, yes.”
“I didn’t bring my passport!”
He faced me. “They don’t take kindly to illegal entry.” Reaching into his jacket, he removed his wallet and pulled out several banknotes, handing them to the young man. “Watch my boat, please, Samuel. Eres bueno con eso?”
“Sí, señor.” The Cuban gave him a wave.
Astor strolled off down the wharf.
I climbed onto the wooden dock and called after him. “You’re not seriously going to leave me here?”
He turned around with a grin, ambling backwards.
“Good luck, Ms. Wren.”
I NEEDED TO BREATHE…REMAIN calm and not panic.
Under normal circumstances I’d have been happy to be here. I adored traveling and seeing new sights, meeting new people, and exploring richly layered cultures.
But at the moment I was about to hyperventilate. I’d probably pass out and fall into the ocean and be swept away, cursing Astor with my last thoughts.
I hurried after him with unsteady legs, pulling at the back of my dress which was stuck to my skin with sweat. I had no intention of spending the night in a Cuban jail.
Charging round the corner, I skidded to a stop and peered into the crowd. I couldn’t see him. A car sped by and I leaped onto the sidewalk to avoid being hit.
I felt a jolt of relief when I saw Astor entering an impressive building with spiraling white pillars.
I sprinted after him.
Bursting into the foyer of the Hotel Inglaterra, I watched Astor heading towards the east wing. On the way he gave a nod to a man who looked like the concierge, who handed him something, though I couldn’t see what.
My heels clipped on the blue and green tiles as I tried to keep up with him, shuddering at the sudden chill of air-conditioning. Lush palms and towering plants lined the corridor and the impressive décor surrounding me was a pleasant distraction from my sense of impending doom.
At a casual pace, I followed Astor into a well-lit room. He was at the bar casually ordering what I assumed was an alcoholic drink.
Cheeky bastard.
Breathless, I caught up with him. “Why are you doing this?”
“Ordering a drink?”
“This is highly inappropriate.”
“I’m rather fond of this place.” He accepted the shot glass from the barman. “A rum for the lady, too, please.” He turned his gaze on me. “Looks like you need it.”
“You’ve lost your mind.”
“And yet you’re the stowaway.” He raised his drink to look at it. “I’m tempted to leave you here.”
The bartender slid my drink over to me and I threw it back, tasting caramel and brown sugar. I made an O with my mouth to cool the burn of rum.
“Do you treat all your employees like this, Mr. Beauregard?”
“Just you.” He threw his drink back and clenched his teeth as though it had scorched his throat. “Another.” He slammed down his glass and slid it toward the barman.
“I’m the honest one here,” I said, seething. “You’re the one who needs to take a long hard look at yourself.”
“I’m done playing games, Raquel. Why were you snooping around Arabella’s office?”
“I was looking for a pen.”
“Seriously?”
I made a rude noise. “You smuggled me into a foreign country. I don’t have to wonder anymore what kind of man you are.”
He lifted another shot of rum and held it in front of my face. “Drink.”
“I’m not drinking anything else.”
“Finish it. Then I’ll take you home.”
I took the glass and held his stare, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth.
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
I threw it back.
“First, we talk.” He threw pesos on the bar and then grabbed my wrist, leading me back down the hallway.
We stopped at an elevator. He punched the UP button.
I glared at him. “Where are we going?”
The elevator doors slid open and Astor stepped inside. I had no choice but to follow. He leaned back casually against the wall, looking hot as hell with his windswept hair and casually open shirt.
A rush of warmth and lightheadedness hit me—the rum was making me heady.
I was going to turn this situation around and have Astor confessing what he’d done. We got off the elevator and hurried along a red carpeted hallway. He suddenly stopped at one of the doors and with a wave of his keycard, it unlocked with a click.
“How come you have that?” I pointed to the key.
Then I remembered the concierge had handed him something.
Astor went on ahead into the room and I followed. My addled brain made out the luxury furniture of a hotel suite, and I guessed the bedroom was through one of the doors on our right. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness I straightened my back in defense.
Astor stopped in the center of the room and pivoted to face me.
“Start talking.” His
dark tone burned through me.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you working alone?”
“I work for you, Mr. Beauregard.”
“This won’t be the first time one has infiltrated my lab.”
“One what?”
“Spy.”
I sat on the arm of a chair. “I’m not a spy. Why would you think such a thing?”
“I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself, Raquel. Which is decent of me under the circumstances.”
“I create and sell perfumes. That’s what I do.”
“And I read people. Trust me, I’m good at it.”
“Has someone said something?” I asked calmly.
“There’s no point in denying it anymore. You’re hiding something.”
“Yes, I am. Humiliation.” I pushed to my feet and closed the gap between us. “My marriage fell apart because my husband ran off with a younger woman and now he’s pulling his share out of the business so he can buy a fuck-pad with an ocean view. I’ve lost my store, and along with it my job. I’m a woman who no longer trusts anyone. Maybe that’s what you’re picking up.”
His frown deepened.
I added, “What you see is a woman fighting back and refusing to drown.”
“Raquel, swear you’re being honest with me.”
“Have you been honest with me in every respect?”
“Yes.”
I looked around at the décor of his hotel room and let that serve as my accusation against his integrity.
He gave a cursory nod. “I don’t usually bring women here—”
“And then abandon them?”
“Pablo was watching over you.”
“Who?”
“The Chief of Police.”
“Oh, well that’s fine, then,” I said bitterly. “Notify the authorities, why don’t you.”
“You’re so careful all the time…this gave you the jolt of adrenaline your mind and body has been craving. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
My hand twitched with a desire to slap him, but instead I balled it into a fist of frustration. He was still my boss, after all. “What happened to you, Astor?”
“How do you mean?”
“You don’t trust anyone, either.”
He waved that off. “Those who cross me regret it for the rest of their lives.”
Perfume Girl Page 8