Page 2 of Perfume Girl
“It’ll be a few more minutes, Ms. Wren.” The receptionist’s voice drew my gaze away from the window. “They’re just finishing up.”
The pretty blonde had spent the last twenty minutes unabashedly looking at her iPhone from behind the desk. Her pale blue eyes were now focused on me.
I feigned a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
She returned her attention to the phone.
Don’t do this.
Don’t give away your finest work.
I pretended this was easy for me. That being here and doing this was just fine.
“How much longer do you think it will be?”
“Five minutes.”
Perfect. Enough time to check my hair and make-up. I pushed myself up and walked the few short steps to the restroom.
Even in here I found a classic elegance—pristine gold taps and marble sinks. In minutes, I’d be sitting opposite the infamous Anna Rosenthal and I was determined to wow her. She could be cold—I’d read that about her—and impatient. Each second in her presence counted.
I stood in front of the mirror and fluffed my long brunette hair, which shone with amber highlights. The same sun that had tinted my locks had brought out freckles that kissed my nose and cheeks. After softening the eyeliner beneath my turquoise eyes, I retouched my lipstick.
This morning I’d gone for dynamic and now I just saw severity looking back. I changed my mind and decided the “girl next door” look offered a less competitive edge and I needed this to be all about my product instead of about me. Anna hated self-importance, too, apparently.
I faked a smile—a convincing one that said all was well in my life and I was a shining example of success. Anna didn’t need to know my world was falling apart.
Not once had I considered the possibility that I would be divorced at thirty, a recent separation after what had felt like a happy marriage. But as I straightened my pencil skirt and smoothed my gold satin blouse, I felt my self-respect returning.
I recognized that brightness in my gaze, that sense of aliveness.
I was back.
The drive from Dunedin had been pleasant—fun even—in my open-top Alfa Romeo. No matter how much Damien wanted it I was keeping the car. It was my ex-husband’s fault I was here.
Still, if I managed to license my new scent I would be able to save Perfume Girl—my beloved store nestled on Broadway in Dunedin. My heart and soul was invested in that place and I wasn’t going to let it go without a fight. It was either this plan or I would have to sell my perfumery and give him half the money. The bastard didn’t deserve anything. Not after leaving me forher.
I’d found a way out of this nightmare and licensing my new scent was it. Even if it broke my heart to let it go.
Hisgreed left me no choice but to offer my new fragrance to one of the industry’s prominent companies. A formula so alluring it would take the industry by storm with its unique properties. It needed one more ingredient to elevate it to a new level, but that would only be shared with Anna after a contract was signed.
It was my finest work.
Licensing it would enable me to take my life back. If I kept this special scent for my business, it would sell well but I would be challenged to market it to a wider audience on my modest budget.
Time I didn’t have.
Raising my head high and exuding a sense of calm, I left the restroom and made my way back to the waiting area, reaching into my handbag for the bottle of perfume. I would present this to Anna Rosenthal within seconds of entering that meeting.
Start out strong.
Hell, yes.
This was my moment to shine.
I jolted to a stop, my hand continuing to rummage in my handbag, not feeling the small Lalique bottle.
The receptionist raised her gaze. “They’re ready for you, Ms. Wren.” She pointed to her right. “Through that door.”
