Mustering courage the next day I took my vial of perfume to the Leclére office to submit for judging. In the end I’d run out of time and had to submit the comfort zone fragrance and cross my fingers that someone submitted something worse. But not Lila or Lex. I didn’t want them to leave, and I had an inkling they’d stay after smelling their perfumes. The other contestants would sell me up the river if it would advance them, but Lex and Lila were of a differently ilk, and already I liked them as people and perfumers.
We wouldn’t find the results out until Monday morning, so the next few days would be interminable. If only, if only, if only…
Disappointment sat heavily on my shoulders. Still, it would be better to front up with confidence, right? Fake it until you make it and all that.
With a steadying breath I knocked on the door and entered the office to find Sebastien there. ‘Bonjour, Del,’ he said, motioning for me to sit opposite him. In the light bright room with only us I felt exposed, vulnerable as I handed him the bottle. Perfume was so personal, each note symbolizing a hidden depth, a layer of secrets, until it became someone else’s and open to their interpretation. ‘Can I leave this with you for the judges?’
‘Oui,’ he said. Today his hair was slightly mussed as though he hadn’t slept well. But the vivid green of his eyes were bright and focused directly on me, waiting for me to speak. Shoot. I’d never been the tongue-tied sort. It was the long days and lonely nights in foreign locales that had me dreaming in French…while I was awake.
I dropped into the wingback chair and we gazed at one another for too long to be comfortable, that same rueful smile playing at his lips, as if he could read my mind. It unnerved me that in his presence my traitorous heart fluttered. I reminded myself everyone acted a little foolishly around him. It was the French effect. That reserve of his that we all wanted to chip away at and see what was underneath.
He gave me his full attention like he was reading every nuance of my face, memorizing the curve of my lips, the way my hands quaked a little. Like he’d been waiting for me for the longest time and here I was…
Lack of sleep was the culprit. He was just a man! Just a gorgeous French man. Even though this was liked being sucked into a bubble where time stopped and all I could feel was the thrumming of my heart.
Sebastien radiated this cool intoxicating kind of charm. I bet he was the type who helped old ladies cross the street and took in stray puppies but he would never say so. He was just a little bit lovely if you were into the type of man who considered things, and held himself in check. I felt there was a deeper level to the guy if you got to know him.
‘You were saying?’ He wore that same half smirk he often did around me, like I was amusing to him. Gah.
I set my shoulders and said, ‘I hope the judges find my perfume satisfactory.’ The phone rang, startling me, but he left it unanswered.
‘Please, continue,’ he said, in that god damn sultry French accent of his. It should have been illegal to speak in such a tone.
‘I was trying to make love….’ I petered off, mortification rushing my cheeks. Holy mother of perfume.
His eyes shone with mirth, and I did my best to recover by speaking really loudly. ‘Make a perfume about love.’ Please, earth swallow me whole. ‘Love of homecoming. And, I really have to go now. I’ve, erm, left—’ my brain in America! ‘—left my electric blanket on and really it’s a waste of electricity not to mention a potential fire hazard. And being summer and all…’
He held up a hand and I couldn’t help but notice it was pretty damn fine as far as hands went, long tapering fingers, a nice olive skin tone, and neat nails. ‘Wait, Del.’
I was bent at the waist mid-hover, the desire to escape high, half crouched wasn’t my best angle so I sat heavily looking anywhere but him. I tried to make love?
‘Yes?’ He could have asked if I liked rap music and I would have said yes to escape faster.
He cocked his head, sunlight caught the black of his hair and turned it silver. ‘You don’t have dinner with the group and I wondered why.’
He’d noticed? ‘I’ve been working in the lab late every night. You know, that’s my happy place, perfumery, and I’ve always been that way.’ But truthfully I was struggling to make perfume without my nan, and I worried that without her, I couldn’t do it. How could I tell him though? I didn’t want anyone’s pity. Or worse their doubt, that the wildcard was struggling.
‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I understand. As long as you’re not having trouble with anyone?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Besides, I could handle them, even Clementine if I needed to.
‘So now you’ve finished your “making love” perfume…’ He let the words hang in the air between us.
‘It’s love, just love of home,’ I said through gritted teeth. It was one thing to be slightly smitten by a man but quite another to give into it. So my brain might have been on vacation around him at times, that wasn’t exactly my fault.
‘OK, your love of home perfume is done so you can join us for dinner?’ Us? It surprised me he was part of the ensemble at dinner.
‘Quite possibly.’ No chance.
‘That’s not a yes.’
‘I’ve had a big week, and to be honest I’d rather not spend any more time with some of the contestants. It’s nothing personal, just self-preservation.’
‘I understand,’ he said. ‘On Sunday we’ll go to Dans Le Noir. How does eight o’clock sound?’
‘But what if I get sent home Monday?’ I saw no point talking shop if I was going home. It would be more devastating to know what I was missing out on.
‘What if you don’t?’
The phone buzzed again, and this time he picked it up. ‘See you Sunday, Del. I’ll come up to your apartment to escort you.’ He nodded goodbye and then spoke into the phone leaving me no choice but to leave.
As I crept away, his words carried down the hall. ‘…the management team are ready, and my uncle will take over…’ There was a pause as though someone had interrupted him. ‘…I’ll stay for the duration of the competition because I promised I would but then I’m free and I mean it, I want to be left alone.’
Surprise knocked me sideways. He was leaving Leclére Parfumerie for good? Why? What kind of person would desert a thriving business such as theirs? Didn’t he want to continue his father’s legacy?
The first perfumery masterclass was about to start, so I hurried back the lab, mind spinning. What would happen to Leclére Parfumerie without Vincent and his son? Aurelie wasn’t a perfumer… Aside from his uncle no one else in the family was involved. Surely the business would lose its lustre without Sebastien? Part of me wanted to shake the man!
Notepad and pencil whipped from my bag, I raced into the room, sure my emotions were clearly showing on my face, only to find I was the last to arrive. All eyes landed like laser beams on me. I managed a flustered smile. ‘Hey,’ I said to no one in particular and then made a show of writing in my book.
He wanted to leave?
Maybe the pressure had got to him, the expectation. Leaving, abandoning the perfumery would be a mistake on his part, I was dead certain of it. Grief made people do strange things, and I bet later he’d regret this decision. But what could I do about it? Who was I to him in the scheme of things – no one, that was who. In my heart of hearts, I knew I had to try and help or I’d never forgive myself.
Clementine sidled over. ‘Finally found a French lover ’ave we?’
I blanched and said too quickly, ‘No!’
‘Ooh la la, what a shame. Last night I met a man, but he was, ’ow you say it, a little on the small side.’
My eyebrows shot up. ‘Clementine!’
‘What? I don’t like a man who is skinnier than me.’
‘Oh.’ I shook my head. ‘I thought you meant—’
She nudged me with her hip. ‘You ’ave a dirty mind, Del. I knew you weren’t as innocent as you seemed.’
I was saved by the master perfumer entering the room. All eyes turned to Jacques Monpellier, French perfumer to the stars, infamous for his love of women and fast cars, but renowned just the same. His perfumes were extravagant and audacious and I was keen to learn from him.
Everyone quieted down, everyone except Clementine that was.
‘I’ve booked us a table at the Moulin Rouge tonight. You’ll come, oui?’
‘Yes, I’ll come if you stop talking so I can listen now.’ I held up a hand to stop the inevitable Pah! and she closed her mouth. There was no way her invitation was genuine, I knew she wanted information, but I could play the game just as well as she could…