Heaven Scent (48 page)

Cat wondered why she wasn’t tearing the paper off like a five year old. Considering the fact that most of Jerard’s gifts seemed to be beautiful and shockingly expensive, she wasn’t sure why Leoni was so indifferent to the arrival of another. Cat shrugged to herself. Leoni had grown up in a privileged environment; perhaps she was harder to impress than the average girl.

Leoni actually seemed to have other things on her mind. ‘I spoke to Xavier, by the way. I hope you don’t mind.’

Cat felt a flash of trepidation. Whenever anyone said anything to Xavier or any other member of this family, everyone seemed to get the wrong end of the stick. Her stomach sank.

‘Er . . . what did he say?’

‘Not a great deal, actually, but I think he was a bit shocked about Grandmother’s involvement in everything that has happened. He’s gone to Morocco now . . . something to do with the fragrance.’

Cat felt poleaxed. So Xavier knew everything now and he still hadn’t wanted to speak to her before he’d left for Morocco. She hated herself for missing him so much but she couldn’t help it. Realising Leoni was still chuntering on about Paris, Cat plastered a smile on to her face.

‘Well, I’m really glad your presentation went so well,’ she said, meaning it. ‘And have fun in Paris, all right?’

Watching Cat slope off sadly, Leoni wished she could give Xavier a resounding slap. Didn’t he realise how perfect Cat was for him?

 

‘I hope Seraphina is all right now. What a horrible way to find out her boyfriend isn’t the nice guy she thought he was.’

Hurrying alongside Max who was striding through the lavender fields purposefully, Madeleine flicked her hair over her shoulders with a nervous hand. Max, a brooding character at the best of times, seemed caught up in his own thoughts. His dark hair fell into his eyes as he strode along and his brow was furrowed with concentration. Wearing a pair of black shorts and a T-shirt as the sun was warm, Max’s tanned body was as lean as a jockey’s. As good looking as Xavier, his broad shoulders and height made him seem older than he was but his glowering expression made him seem like an immature teenager.

Doing her best not to stare at his bronzed back as he stormed ahead of her, Madeleine knew Max was cut up about what had happened to Seraphina at the party but she wasn’t sure what to say or do for the best. Being an only child, she had no real concept of sibling loyalty but she knew enough about Max to know he cared deeply about his sister and that what had happened was playing on his mind.

Madeleine sighed and thrust her hands into the pockets of her cut-off jeans. She had teamed them with some silver gladiator sandals and a pretty white bodice, not that Max ever noticed what she was wearing.

Struggling to keep up with Max’s rage-fuelled strides, Madeleine considered him. She wasn’t sure it was prudent to say it out loud but she couldn’t help feeling that Max was far angrier than he should be after the event. Seraphina was upset for obvious reasons but Max was pent up and fuming, rather like a bubbling volcano on the brink of exploding, molten lava mere inches beneath the surface.

‘What?’ he barked, suddenly aware that Madeleine had said something to him. He threw her an impatient sideways glance. ‘Yves, he’s a bastard, yes. A pervert too, if you ask me. His type always think they can get away with murder and take advantage of people.’

‘Seraphina’s not a child,’ Madeleine pointed out mildly, aware she was taking her life into her hands as she uttered the words. Seeing Max’s eyes darken with fury, she rushed to explain. ‘I didn’t mean Yves isn’t a creep or that he might not have taken no for an answer. It’s just . . . your family seems to treat Seraphina like she’s a little girl rather than a grown woman.’ Sensing his scowl, Madeleine stood her ground. She cared about Max but she wasn’t going to allow him to browbeat her into agreeing with him just because he was angry. ‘And I don’t mean you, specifically, Max; your entire family wrap Seraphina up in cotton wool.’

Max stopped abruptly, turning to face her. His jaw was rigid and his arrogant stance suggested he saw Madeleine’s comment as absurd. ‘Is it any wonder? Look what a mess she got herself into. If we hadn’t arrived, who knows what might have happened.’

Madeleine shook her head. ‘I think Seraphina had the situation under control. And if you don’t mind me saying, you seem far more worked up about this than she does. I’m sure she thinks Yves is an idiot but she’s not raging a war against the world the way you are.’

Max grimaced. ‘I’m not raging against the world, thank you very much.’ He kicked the grass with the toe of his baseball boot. ‘Just my father, if you must know.’

‘Is he really to blame for all of this?’

He stared past her. ‘Yes, he is. He’s been a useless father for more than two years and I’m sick of it.’ Max practically spat the words out.

Madeleine wanted to help him but she didn’t know how. ‘Maybe you should have it out with him . . . say all this to him, face to face.’ She felt strongly that Max needed to be honest and voice his feelings aloud, calmly and clearly, but she knew he wouldn’t agree. She braced herself for the acerbic retort she was sure Max would throw back at her so she was unprepared for his flat agreement.

‘You’re right,’ he said in a level tone. ‘I intend to have it out with him. I tried the other day but he’d gone off to some meeting.’ He raked back his dark hair. ‘Someone needs to tell him what a terrible father he is.’

Madeleine felt a momentary panic. ‘I didn’t really mean that . . .’

Max wasn’t listening.

‘No time like the present,’ he murmured. Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to seize the moment and get everything off his chest. ‘See you later,’ he said tersely, turning and heading back towards La Fleurie.

Madeleine stared after him numbly, wishing she could take her words back. She had a feeling Max had something very different in mind than the composed, adult discussion she had been hinting at and she couldn’t see it ending any other way but nastily. Wondering what to do, Madeleine headed home worriedly.

 

‘This is my best light,’ Angelique snarled, snapping her fingers at the poor man fiddling with the lighting. ‘Are you some sort of imbecile?’ Rolling her eyes as he scurried away like a goblin, she shook her blond waves out and composed herself.

‘Action,’ she called, holding the perfume bottle up and leaning her ample cleavage into the camera.

Stefan, the director, bristled. He detested it when people stole his line. Motioning for filming to begin (his staff knew better than to listen to a model yelling directions), he watched through the lens as Angelique performed her lines. Holed up in one of the upstairs bedrooms which was decked out in shades of lilac and vanilla, the setting was perfect. May sunshine shone through the windows, providing gorgeous natural lighting, in addition to the lights that had been set up at various points in the room. Angelique looked at her very best, her flowing curves covered by a sheath of lilac silk that made the most of her tiny waist and the shapely edge of her hip.

Stefan frowned. This was the fourth setting they’d attempted and he’d told Angelique it was just for variety of shots and the different scenarios they had in mind for the campaign but he wasn’t being truthful. What he was really trying to do was get just a few shots he would actually want to put his name to because, right now, he didn’t have any. Stefan wished he could put his finger on what was wrong with the seemingly flawless image he could see through the camera but he couldn’t. He had shot many of these perfume campaigns before and they had all been jaw-droppingly beautiful. He had worked with uglier models and actresses in far shabbier surroundings but he had always managed to create breathtaking photographs with some indefinable quality.

Stefan wasn’t happy with what he was seeing. He didn’t know if the brief was wrong or if Angelique wasn’t the right choice, however delectable she looked in her semi-naked state, but he had serious doubts about making the campaign believable.

‘How’s it going?’ Cat asked, poking her head round the door and immediately wishing she hadn’t as she found herself staring at Angelique’s taut stomach, the stomach that had once held Xavier’s baby. A searing, white-hot stab of envy shot through her. Cat wished she could stop feeling the way she did about Xavier. She couldn’t allow herself to do this, it hurt too much. She had to go home – where the hell was her passport, for God’s sake? Bella and Ben thought she’d relocated to France for good – they kept teasing her that she was never coming back and that she’d taken root amongst the Provençal lavender, but they weren’t able to speed up the process any more efficiently in England either. The job at the rival firm was still hers for the taking, apparently, but Cat couldn’t imagine them hanging on forever. And what about the elusive legal papers she was supposed to sign? Cat was thoroughly fed up with it all. It was almost June now – she could hardly believe it.

‘What’s the problem?’ she asked Stefan who was clearly unhappy with the rushes he was looking at.

She peered over his shoulder and took a peek. Angelique’s skin looked luminescent and her body was toned in all the right places, just the way it looked in real life, only better. Cat felt sick as unwanted images of Angelique’s sensual form wrapped round Xavier’s tanned body forced their way into her mind.

‘She is a very good-looking girl,’ Stefan assessed coolly, ‘but maybe not on the inside, eh?’

Cat shrugged. What did it matter? Confronted with Angelique’s enviable face and body left Cat in no doubt as to how she might compare. And judging by the lingering, smoking-hot kiss she had witnessed, Angelique was well on her way to winning Xavier back, regardless of what had gone on before.

‘I think she looks wonderful,’ Cat said dully, meaning it.

‘She’s looked better,’ said a brash American voice.

Glancing over her shoulder, Cat recognised Mason, Angelique’s agent. He was wearing a genial smile but it didn’t reach his eyes. He threw Angelique a look which seemed fuelled with dislike.

‘She looks tired,’ he followed up, critically.

‘Really? I only wish I looked that good when I need more sleep. I tend to look like I’ve got two black eyes.’

‘Good make-up,’ Mason snarled.

Angelique turned on to her back and caught sight of Mason. Her blue eyes widened in surprise and her expression became truculent. Clearly she wasn’t expecting him and as the lilac material slithered down her body and revealed a perky pink nipple, she stretched an arm up provocatively and stared back at him with some defiance.

Mason’s mouth tightened. He muttered something under his breath that sounded very much like ‘slut’ to Cat but she couldn’t be sure. He checked his watch with obvious irritation. ‘How much longer is this going to take?’

Stefan frowned. ‘This should have been wrapped up ages ago but I’m not happy with the results. I can superimpose the name of the perfume when Xavier has made his decision but it’s not that . . .’ He checked the angle again and instructed the cameraman to try another shot in the corner of the room. Huffily, Angelique stood up, tugging the lilac material loosely around her body, and sashayed to the corner of the room.

‘I can’t believe she turned down a meeting with Hollywood for this,’ Mason growled, throwing his heavy frame into a delicate-looking period chair that creaked beneath his weight. ‘It’s only a fucking perfume, for Christ’s sake.’ He glanced at Cat in vague apology. ‘No offence.’

‘None taken. It’s not really anything to do with me, anyway. I’m just . . . a guest.’

Cat sat on the edge of a satin-covered sofa. It was true; she was just a guest and it was better that she thought of herself that way. She had allowed herself to get far too close to the Ducasse family. The thought of leaving Seraphina and Max and Guy tore at her, let alone leaving Xavier. She cursed herself for getting so involved. Even when she signed everything back over to the Ducasse family, even when her marriage to Olivier was nothing more than a distant memory, she knew her life was irrevocably linked to the Ducasse family. As far as her heart was concerned, at any rate, Cat thought, remembering the feel of Xavier’s skilful hands all over her body.

‘What’s the attraction with this stuff, anyway?’ Mason picked up one of the perfume bottles and sniffed it dubiously. Realising it was only filled with coloured liquid for the purposes of the advert, he tossed it back into its box. ‘I can’t for the life of me understand why Angelique wants to do this advert.’

‘Perfume is an extension of someone’s personality,’ Cat intoned automatically, observing Angelique contorting herself into a position that could only be described as sexual. ‘It’s a glamorous, sexy product. I suppose any actress would love the publicity that comes with such an advert. Having your own perfume would be even better, of course, as it means you’re a brand, that you have an identity people recognise and want to be associated with.’

Mason looked unconvinced. ‘This’, he gestured to the perfume bottles, ‘doesn’t fit with her master plan, believe me – at least, not the one I thought she had in mind. This is a woman who wants to conquer the fucking world so why she would turn down Hollywood for perfume beyond me. Her own perfume,
that
I can believe because she’s such a fucking egomaniac, but not representing someone else’s. That’s just lame.’

Cat glanced at him, not sure how much Mason knew about Angelique’s private life. It was apparent he didn’t know about Xavier or Angelique’s desire to hook up with him again. ‘Maybe it’s not just about the perfume, maybe there’s something else Angelique wants.’

Mason’s eyes narrowed. For a moment, a strange expression flitted across his face. Jealousy? Cat wondered. It disappeared a second later so she decided she was mistaken. Far from lusting after Angelique, Mason looked as though he detested her, which was odd as he was clearly a red-blooded male.

‘You’re suggesting that she might be here because of a
man
?’ Mason let out a coarse, dismissive laugh. ‘No way, baby. Angelique doesn’t have a heart. A groin, maybe, but she doesn’t even let that rule her life. No man could get her to change her career plans, not in a million years.’