Heaven Scent (49 page)

Cat’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘I think you’re wrong,’ she asserted, remembering the way Angelique had publicly laid claim to Xavier the night of the perfume party – and since then. To her mind, it was patently obvious why Angelique was here and it had little to do with the launch of Xavier’s new fragrance and everything to do with Xavier himself.

‘That’s a wrap!’ Stefan called out wearily. He came over to Cat and Mason, looking beaten. ‘I’m still not a hundred per cent happy but I’m calling it a day. I’ll check out the shots in the office later and see what I can do.’

Mason looked displeased. Stefan left the room and Cat followed him out.

‘What are you doing here?’ Angelique asked Mason, feeling his eyes running over her body, albeit with no interest. She glanced at the broad width of his shoulders and found him repugnant and sexual in equal measure, as usual. ‘I didn’t say I needed you here.’

‘I’m checking up on you,’ he snapped rudely. ‘Seeing as you’ve fucked all my Hollywood plans up.’

Angelique waved a hand. ‘Hollywood will wait. This is what I want to do right now.’

Mason looked fit to explode. ‘Hollywood will wait? You’re too arrogant for your own good, Angelique. Opportunities like that don’t come along every day.’ He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘What’s this all about, Angelique? Is it about a man? That girl Cat seems to think it is.’

‘Really?’ Angelique preened, clearly pleased. ‘Good.’

Mason grabbed her arm, his chunky fingers biting into the flesh. ‘Why? What are you playing at?’ His eyes seemed to be pleading with her to be honest and Angelique was taken aback.

‘What the hell does it have to do with you?’

‘Everything,’ he snarled at her. His lips were inches from her face and he stared down at her semi-naked body for a moment. Tearing his eyes away, he met hers unflinchingly. ‘And you know it.’

Angelique tore her arm free from his grasp, her cheeks stained red. ‘Fuck off, Mason,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you dare ruin what I’ve set up here! There’s more at stake than just Xavier Ducasse. You have no idea what I have planned.’

With that, she stalked back to her room, leaving Mason clenching his fists impotently.

 

Arriving breathlessly at the building in Paris, Leoni was disappointed not to find Ashton there. She had already tried his apartment but no one was home so she had assumed he might be at the property. She glanced down at herself, feeling foolish – for once, she had abandoned her black dresses and had donned a pretty green one that made the most of her slender figure and boyish cleavage. She suddenly felt incongruous and vulnerable without her usual uniform. Also, she had no idea why she’d made such an effort. Ashton wasn’t around and the building looked to be under renovation with dust flying everywhere. Work was clearly underway – inside, builders were banging and crashing and there was plastic sheeting and scaffolding wrapped round the front. On the ground was a large sign covered with bubble wrap and, holding her breath, Leoni lifted the wrap to look underneath.

‘Ducasse-Fleurie Perfumes’, the sign said in distinctive, flowing writing. Leoni’s heart skipped a beat. Ashton had acquired the property! Why hadn’t he told her about it? She flushed. Maybe because they were barely speaking any more.

Feeling upset, Leoni wondered how things had got to this stage. How had they let such a good friendship fall by the wayside? Too much focus on work, for a start, and also her relationship with Jerard, Leoni admitted guiltily. Jerard was now in Japan, finalising the details of the deal that had interrupted him at the party and no doubt looking for even more business. They had spoken several times on the phone and Jerard had sent flowers, chocolates and even a stunning diamond bracelet – the packet that had arrived before her departure to Paris. Leoni glanced at it on her wrist. It was stunning but it was no substitute for the real thing.

She still couldn’t believe they hadn’t slept together. How had there not been enough time for such an important event to take place? Shouldn’t they be desperate to rip one another’s clothes off and tumble into bed? They were young, they had their own apartments and they should fancy the pants off each other at this early stage in their relationship. Leoni knew this was something they needed to talk about when Jerard returned from Japan. She needed him to know what she wanted from the relationship, that however much she cared about business and work, she wanted more than that.

Stepping inside the building, Leoni asked one of the builders about Ashton’s whereabouts. She added that it was a personal visit, lest they think she was some sort of building official, but no one seemed to know anything. Not sure what to do next and beginning to think she had been hasty turning up in Paris without letting Ashton know first, Leoni turned to find a glamorous redhead watching her.

‘Is Ashton around?’ the woman asked, her keen green eyes running over Leoni with interest.

‘No, I was looking for him myself.’ Leoni stared at the woman, realising she was Marianne Peroux.

‘I am Marianne Peroux,’ the woman confirmed, smiling as she held out a hand with scarlet-tipped fingernails. She winced as some concrete fell next to them. ‘We don’t have hard hats – let’s go outside.’

Leoni followed Marianne, taking in her sleek appearance. Wearing a red dress with narrow shoulder straps and a full skirt, her figure was womanly and curvaceous. In spite of her green outfit and heels, Leoni felt rather drab and unfeminine by comparison. She could see exactly why Guy – and even Ashton – might have been captivated by her. Marianne was difficult to ignore; even in a shop full of building work and noise, she stood out like a colourful butterfly. Leoni had no idea why but the thought of Marianne and Ashton together suddenly seemed like a horrible idea. And not just because Marianne had been after the building.

‘Leoni Ducasse,’ Leoni said, remembering her manners and holding her hand out.

So this is the infamous Leoni Ducasse, Marianne thought to herself in surprise. She inspected Leoni from head to toe, not bothering to hide her stare. Goodness, but she was plain! The glasses she wore did nothing to enhance her looks and the chin-length bob emphasised rather than hid the strong jawline. Her petite, slender figure no doubt lent itself to French fashion, which seemed to be designed for small children, Marianne thought disparagingly, thinking of her own ample hips, but Leoni was certainly not what she was expecting.

It must be sickening for her that the rest of her family were so startlingly attractive, Marianne decided, slightly affronted that Ashton had rejected her in favour of this plain child. He was a gentleman, of course, but still, he must love this girl very much to turn down free sex with her.

Did she love him back? Marianne wondered. She wasn’t sure. Ashton had mentioned a boyfriend but there was something in Leoni’s eyes, a yearning, that suggested maybe she felt something for Ashton. Or maybe she didn’t know it yet, Marianne guessed astutely. She shrugged; each to their own. Still, thoughts of Ashton’s rejection, as well as Guy’s all those years ago, flooded into her mind and she couldn’t resist meddling. Just a little.

‘I was hoping to find Ashton here so I could thank him,’ Marianne explained to Leoni chummily, her green eyes alight with mischief. ‘I really hoped to purchase this building, you see, but we managed to find a way to accommodate one another.’

‘Really? That’s . . . er . . . that’s great.’ Leoni’s stomach shifted uneasily.

Marianne smiled at Leoni, unable to help toying with her the way a cat did with a bird caught in its paw. ‘He made a
huge
sacrifice, and I appreciated it so much, I let him have the building.’

‘I see.’ Leoni was beginning to feel a little sick. She really should have had more than a black coffee on her flight to Paris.

Marianne ran an idle hand down the skirt of her dress, the gesture somehow suggestive. ‘I wanted something he had and he gave it to me.’

What did she mean? Leoni swallowed.

‘It was a very satisfactory arrangement all round,’ Marianne added for good measure. ‘Satisfying and very, very enjoyable.’

Her meaning was clear, leaving Leoni in no doubt as to the kind of transaction that had taken place. ‘Did you . . . did you sleep with Ashton?’ Leoni was taken aback to find her voice croaking slightly.

‘I think it would be tacky of me to discuss the details,’ Marianne murmured. ‘But suffice to say, we came to an arrangement and it worked out very well.’

She was surprised when Leoni backed away, muttering something about needing to get back to Provence. Marianne had assumed Leoni would be like Guy; tough, unapologetic and totally in control. Even Ashton had painted a picture of Leoni as a ballsy businesswoman with an emotional deficit, yet here she was, looking as though someone had put her bunny in the furnace.

Marianne watched Leoni stumble away in her high heels, feeling oddly uncomfortable. Had she done a terrible thing? Surely not! Leoni had a boyfriend, and Ashton had said Leoni didn’t even know he existed. But something about the way Leoni had recoiled suggested she might have feelings somewhere deep down inside, which would explain her reaction just now.

‘Marianne.’ Seconds too late, Ashton arrived, looking none too pleased to see her. ‘What can I do for you?’

About to confess all, Marianne thought better of it. If Ashton and Leoni were meant to be together, they would find a way. She had told herself that when Guy left. Marianne inwardly shrugged. That was love for you; it was a cruel bitch that ate up some poor mortals and spat them out. Leoni needed to toughen up and sort her life out.

‘I have the paperwork here,’ Marianne stated, pulling it out of her handbag.

‘Right.’ Ashton sniffed the air and frowned. That scent smelt just like Leoni’s! But how could that be? She was in Provence, no doubt in Jerard’s bed. Feeling a pain in his heart, he turned back to Marianne. ‘Let’s get this over and done with,’ he said in a muted voice, holding his hand out to take the papers.

Wondering if she’d gone soft, Marianne nodded wordlessly and followed him inside the building.

 

Wandering through the medina in Marrakech wearing a loose linen shirt and trousers, Xavier felt his senses reeling. The trip reminded him so tangibly of his mother. They’d taken the trip several times together before her death in the pursuit of exotic oils and the trip felt both sad and cathartic. Xavier was also aware that he had decisions to make back home, and his mind was all over the place as thoughts of Cat’s aquamarine eyes and Angelique’s knowing blue ones swam across one another.

A haze of heat sat around the medina which was characterised by low, terracotta houses and tall palm trees, and the honeyed smell of cedarwood hung in the air, along with the rich, sensual aromas of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Sacks of herbs and spices lined the alleys, wafting their aromas to passers-by, mixing with the familiar smell of hash smoked by students in furtive corners.

Aware the many sellers procured their fragrances from Grasse and passed them off as their own, Xavier knew he had to go into the very depths of the souk to find the real perfume sellers. Morocco was one of the biggest producers of essential oils and the raw materials of scent but actual perfume itself was hard to come by – original versions, at any rate. Serge Lutens, the famous
senteur
, lived in Marrakech and Xavier could understand why. The exotic smells couldn’t fail to inspire and the earthy scents were so complex and erotic, it was impossible not to imagine them blended and wafting off warm, bare skin.

Xavier refocused his mind on what he had come to Marrakech for: neroli, one of the four essential oils that came from the orange. The other three were bergamot, which was extracted from the rind and was rich and aromatic; orange flower absolute which was floral; and petit grain, distilled from the leaves and unripe fruit, which had bittersweet, woody qualities. The process of distilling orange blossoms to produce neroli was a complicated one: the blossoms needed to be picked dry, not wet, and the leaves had to be removed. The flowers would be spread out and turned overnight, and then boiled in water to yield both orange flower water and, eventually, neroli oil which was skimmed from the top of the water.

Xavier continued through the maze of alleyways that told him he must be close to the souk El Attarin, where all the perfume-sellers were located. They sat behind white curtains that protected their precious perfumes from heat and sunlight and Xavier ducked into each one, stating his interest in petit grain and neroli. Refusing to be anointed with oily scents, Xavier stuck to his guns and sampled only the aromas he was interested in.

Passing on a bergamot petit grain which was too strong and a citrusy one that was too sharp and a dozen others that were too sweet or woody, he was drawn to one that was distilled from orange flowers and petit grain oil. It was delicate and floral, with a deliciously bittersweet heart note. Xavier couldn’t stop breathing it in. He knew he needed something rounded to complete the fragrance, a scent that wouldn’t overpower the other components but would complement it and give it an elegant edge.

Xavier found himself lost in thought as he remembered the brief he had put together a few years ago, the one he’d tailored with something – someone – very specific in mind. He hadn’t known what her face looked like or what her name would be but he had known the sort of woman he had in mind, the sort of woman who would wear a fragrance such as this. His mind flitting between Angelique and Cat, Xavier forced himself to be truthful with himself about which woman truly represented the inspiration behind his new fragrance.

Was it based on a lingering memory of something heady and sexual, something he might now rediscover should he choose to, or was it based on a romantic fantasy, set out in the brief he drawn up in a moment of sheer hopefulness, long before that woman had presented herself to him? He and Angelique had history, they had shared something so personal and intimate it was difficult not to feel drawn to her because of it. Seeing her again had brought up both good and bad memories, and even without the added complication of Cat, Xavier knew he would be in a mess because of Angelique’s sudden reappearance in his life.