Page 13 of Perfect (mis)Match

I’d been with Summit for a week now, and I’d done my homework, so I didn’t feel completely lost. But still. This was my first time in the lab, and it was all so…official. And serious. Here I thought bridezillas were as bad as it could get, but that was before I’d met Vincent Forde.

The rest of the team looked nonchalant, but I realized they’d all been with Summit for ages, and meetings in the science fiction-looking lab were no big deal to them anymore. I was in awe of the scales and machines and floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with identical brown bottles. Who knew there were so many fragrance options? They probably had every flower in the world bottled up!

Well, every flower but pure heliotrope, which was why I was here under the ruthless glare of our bosshole-in-chief.

No surprise, he was in all black, but this time it was a fitted cashmere sweater, slim black trousers, and loafers with gold horse bits on top that had to be Gucci. He eyed us as we filed into our chairs, and when I glanced at him, he gave me a nod. He held my gaze, and I stared right back at him until his focus made me a little lightheaded.

Was it a glare just for me, or did he do it to everyone?

It felt like he was always watching me, but at least now, I knew why—it was because I held the future ofEvermorein my hands. When his eyes rested on me, it was only because he was trying to psychically force me to reach out to the Sullivans. I’d told him they needed a cooling off period before I called them, that it would look too obvious if I followed up with them a few days after the party. He’d begrudgingly agreed, but I could tell he wasn’t a fan of waiting.

“Focus, people,” Vincent said as he clapped his hands to get our attention. “Celine, take it away.”

According to my research, Celine Nagel was Summit’s master perfumer and a legend in the industry. My new colleague Russell told me that Vincent stole her from Château de Parfum ten years ago, and ever since, the two perfume houses have been locked in battle.

“Bonjour,” Celine said. She was a handsome woman with a chic pixie cut who wore a blazer and scarf in that effortlessly French way, like she’d just tossed them both on as she ran out the door. Though I doubted Celine ran anywhere—ever. “As you know, Vincent is getting closer to securing our heliotrope.”

I felt his eyes land on me again. The man made me feel like I was a shoplifting teenager and he was mall security. He never stopped watching me!

I refocused on Celine.

“Once we have the blooms in house, we begin the arduous task of distilling the impossible. Butwewill succeed!”

Everyone broke into applause, and Vincent finally cracked what looked like a genuine smile.

Was it the first one I’d seen? He’d bared his teeth at me a few times since I met him, but I couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of anactualsmile.

“We wanted you to experience a version ofEvermore, albeit the synthetic version, as you work through the final phases of the campaign, so you have an understanding of the essence of the scent,” Celine said. “We’ll have sample bottles for everyone once we’ve distilled our heliotrope top notes, but we don’t want to run the risk of this synthetic version of the fragrance leaving this lab. Each one of you will have a numbered sample stick that we’ll collect before you leave. Understood?”

Everyone nodded. I was astounded at the level of secrecy. I couldn’t let on, but I felt a little over my head. I was an excellent photographer with years of experience, but I’d never worked on anything so high end. Being immersed in this new and foreign world had me overwhelmed.

Vincent stood off to the side with his arms crossed and his lips pursed. I barely knew the man, but it was obvious he was feeling the pressure of trying to achieve the impossible. I couldalmostexcuse his grumpy, bossy attitude given how much he was dealing with, but he was the one who decided to deal withhis stress by acting like an asshole. Vincent Forde didn’thaveto back into my car and blame me for it, or bully senior citizens, he just chose to do it.

Celine’s silent assistant put gloves on and started dipping the little cardboard strips in the vial on the table in front of her then passing them out.

“Remember, our scent story for this trio istemporal,” Vincent said. “The passage of time. How do we put a scent to something that defies an olfactory description? Well, for our final member of the trio, we combine the heat of cedarwood to remind you of cozy days curled up with a book by the fire, the sunshine scent of orange blossom to conjure up summer days, sugary vanilla to bring you back to homemade holiday cookies, and our standout fragrance heliotrope to add a warm almond top note. Mixed together, it’s the scent of forever.”

It sounded like a traffic jam of mismatched odors. How could it possibly smell good?

Someone passed me a scent stick, and I closed my eyes as I inhaled.

Okay, I was wrong.Perfection.

I had flashes of warm nights, love, andhope, of all things. It was impossible to sum up the fragrance, but I could understand the feelings it evoked. I felt embraced and happy. I didn’t want to stop inhaling, which was a relief because my biggest secret was that I didn’t like the prior two fragrances. I’d hauled my butt to Macy’s on 34thStreet to experience the fragrances right from the bottle, expecting to be bewitched.Then, meant to evoke first love, was too sweet and powdery for me, andNow—a heavy, musky scent to conjure up raw animal attraction—had smelledoverpowering. ButEvermoretook elements from both to make them better.

All I could hear around me were sniffs and sighs of pleasure.Evermorewas going to be a hit.

“Eileen is going to walk us through the proposed direction for the final leg of the campaign,” Vincent said as she joined him at the front of the room. I did my best not to grimace.

My role at Summit fell in Eileen’s department, and from the moment I’d been introduced to her, she’d made it obvious she wanted nothing to do with me. Maybe it was because Vincent had hired me without getting her input, or because my heels weren’t from this season’s Prada collection. In any case, she’d made me feel unwelcome from minute one. I hoped I could kill her with kindness, and if that didn’t work, I’d just try to fade into the background and do my job. After all, I was on a mission that didn’t hinge on whether or not she liked me. The faster I completed it, the better it would be for all parties involved.

“We’ve had phenomenal feedback from our prior two campaigns, so clearly this one will follow suit with a black-and-white image of a model shot in profile, with a backlit spray of perfume hitting her neck.” She pulled another large photograph from behind one of the others. It was a mock-up of the same basic shot, with the only difference being the bottle.

I grumbled to myself. The campaign had started five years ago with the launch ofThen, and the images were beautiful, sure, but they felt boring now. IfEvermorewas the ultimate fragrance of the trio, the campaign should be bigger and better as well—not just the same old same old.

“Do we love or what?” Eileen purred.

Immediately, nods rippled across the room, followed by a chorus of eager affirmations.

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