Page 18 of Perfume Girl
The same trip that now had an entirely new meaning. At the last minute, Damien had pulled out so I’d been forced to tour the city alone. I’d mixed business with pleasure and had thoroughly enjoyed my visit to one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Of course, now I knew why Damien had bailed and those otherwise happy memories were now tainted.
“That scent is unmistakable.” She looked around the store, not catching my incredulous expression.
I struggled out of my melancholy. “Was it Penelope who recommendedAngel’s Quest?” It was one of their scents.
“No, the guy with her did.”
I grabbed my phone from behind the countertop and with a swipe and a quick search brought up a photo of Penelope. According to the names listed beneath the photo, that striking man beside her was her brother, Astor. I was surprised by his age; he was around thirty, maybe a bit older. Their last name, Beauregard, sounded haughty and I had imagined a much older man helping his sister run the business.
I turned my phone towards Skye. “Was this him?”
“That’s the asshole.” She grinned. “Though he smelled amazing.”
I flipped the screen back around and stared at his handsome face. Had he really been wearing my scent?
It was a long shot…and it was impossible to prove. Yet who else would be interested in a startling new scent other than perfumers? Only they would realize what they had.
I removed the bottle’s cap and had her sniff again. “Are you sure?”
“I asked him what it was and he got all defensive.”
“Really?” I mulled that over. “Let me get a bag for yourLilies & Freesia.”
After Skye left I locked up the store in a daze.
Within minutes, I had researched where Penelope lived and was heading toward South Beach, the other side of Florida. I had a long drive ahead but I needed answers. I couldn’t rest until I knew the truth. With a heart full of hope and a head full of ideas, I navigated across the state.
This is madness.
Then again I had nothing left to lose.
As I neared Penelope’s property, the same one mentioned in the year oldVanity Fairinterview I’d read online during my search, I clutched the steering wheel and replayed the plan.
Okay,there is no plan.
There was just me hunting down Penelope and asking her where the hell she’d gotten my new fragrance. Though, in her defense, she probably had no idea it was stolen. Somehow, it had found its way onto the black market and right into the heart of her company.
This trip into the unknown was me taking back my power.
See, you can be spontaneous.
The long driveway reminded me I was heading toward a wealthy estate—the kind that would probably have a security guard somewhere on the property.
A flash of black suddenly appeared before me and I yanked the wheel sharply to the left to avoid the horse and rider. My car fishtailed and sprayed up dust and gravel, sliding toward a brick wall.
I slammed on the brakes and was jolted forward and then slung back by my seatbelt, stopping only inches from the wall.
Jesus, the horse!
I unbuckled my seatbelt and shoved open the door, heading toward the man who was trying to calm the panicked stallion. The rider raised his hand in the air to warn me to keep my distance.
“I’m sorry,” I called out.
The stallion reared up. The rider’s strong arms grappled with the reins, trying to calm the animal and keep the impressive beast from bolting. The horse was obviously a thoroughbred. With its curved spine and arched neck, it had a height of at least fifteen hands.
When the stallion settled down, the rider directed the animal to walk toward me.
I took in the man’s leather boots and his tight jodhpurs, outlining his taut thighs, and then my gaze landed on the extraordinary features of Astor Beauregard. The strong line of his jaw was remarkable—and those piercing hazel eyes were fixed on me with a judgmental expression.
