Heaven Scent (25 page)

He cleared his throat and made an effort to get the interview moving. It was live and being watched by millions and if his boss didn’t stop screeching in his ear . . . ‘Do you feel you can relate to the character you play in this movie?’

Angelique let out a throaty laugh and covered his hand with hers. ‘Oh, Robert, not really. No man has ever left me for another man! But you never know.’ Batting her eyelashes coquettishly, she gave him a ripe smile. Inside, she was aching with boredom. She was so fed up with portraying and talking about sordid sexual issues. It was about time people respected her.

‘I can’t imagine that ever happening,’ he told her gallantly, flattered she hadn’t let go of his hand. ‘And what’s on the horizon for you now?’

‘Who knows?’ Angelique finally let go of his hand but she did so with mock reluctance. She crossed her legs slowly, watching as he salivated. ‘Offers are coming in all the time, of course, but I’m feeling the need to branch out a little . . . to show my audience something different.’

Robert wondered if she was wearing any knickers and his penis jerked at the thought. ‘I’m sure we’ll all look forward to whatever you decide to do next,’ he said, hoping she would come for a drink with him after the show.

‘Thank you so much, Robert,’ she simpered. ‘You’re very kind.’ Angelique tossed her blond hair over her shoulder and sparkled at the audience as the cameras continued to roll. As soon as they shut down, her expression changed and she stood up.

‘Do you fancy a drink?’ Robert said, his balls aching with lust. ‘Or . . . something else?’

‘No thank you,’ she snapped dismissively. ‘I do not fancy a drink or “something else”.’

Stalking off, Angelique left Robert scarlet in the face and with an erection he didn’t quite know what to do with.

‘What a pervert!’ Angelique sniped, taking refuge in her dressing room.

‘You’ve had a few calls from your agent about some Hollywood films,’ her assistant Celine said. ‘Isn’t that exciting?’ She handed Angelique a note with some carefully written messages attached and consulted her BlackBerry again. ‘And Delphine Ducasse called. Several times in fact.’

‘Delphine Ducasse? Really? How very interesting.’

‘I have no idea who she is,’ Celine was saying. ‘Some deranged fan probably but I told her you wouldn’t be calling her back anytime soon.’

‘You did what!’ Angelique leapt out of her chair and snatched Celine’s BlackBerry from her, her dress slipping off her shoulder. ‘You don’t make decisions like that for me, do you understand? Do that again and you’re fired.’

Celine nearly burst into tears. At that moment Angelique’s agent arrived. Mason Tyrone was an American, a big man with a hooked nose. He favoured sharply tailored, pinstripe suits and his neck was thickset, like a rugby-player’s. Mason lived in Paris because he liked it and in Los Angeles for business – he travelled between the two constantly. Angelique had chosen him partly for his reputation for ferocious negotiating and also because of her aspirations to break America one day.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked Angelique as Celine made herself scarce. His voice was loud and rasping.

Angelique gave him a withering glance, never sure whether she found him repulsive or disturbingly sexual. She had often wondered if he was gay as he seemed so unmoved by her but he was so manly and butch, she couldn’t imagine he was anything but heterosexual.

‘My assistant is making decisions for me and as I don’t even let you do that, you can understand why I’m annoyed.’

Mason’s eyes darkened and he bristled at her rudeness. Angelique might be sexy but she was a bitch. He’d love to tell his most lucrative client where to go, but he knew which side his bread was buttered on. ‘Of course. I’m sure she won’t do it again. What decision did she make for you, out of interest?’

‘She told a very good friend of mine not to call me,’ Angelique replied tersely. Delphine Ducasse wasn’t a good friend but she couldn’t really explain the nature of her relationship with her to someone like Mason, who was nothing more than a brute in a suit.

Angelique couldn’t help wondering why someone with Delphine’s influence liked her. Women usually despised her, especially ones of Delphine’s age. Although perhaps older women admired her for her success. Delphine obviously didn’t know the full story from her time in Provence, that much was obvious, but then only one person did. And Angelique was pretty sure he wasn’t about to tell. Nor was she going to bring it up and ruin everything.

Angelique started to undress. ‘I’m changing my clothes,’ she pointed out deliberately to Mason. God, the man was a Neanderthal!

Mason folded his arms. ‘So what? I have business to discuss and no time to waste. Other men might find you irresistible but I think I’ll cope.’

Angelique pulled her dress from her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Standing in nothing but her heels and a pair of virginal-looking, cream silk French knickers, she regarded Mason coolly, her nipples tightening as she felt his eyes on her.

Mason’s expression remained blank, however. ‘As I said, I have some business to discuss. I’ve heard rumours of a big Hollywood film and some of the bosses at Paramount want to talk to you.’

‘Really? What do they need? The token French actress who’ll get her clothes off?’ Furious that Mason found her so unappealing, Angelique hooked her thumbs into the edge of her French knickers and insolently shimmied out of them.

Mason’s expression was impassive. ‘So what if they do? It’d be madness to turn it down.’

Kicking her knickers away, Angelique gave Mason an unadulterated view of her enviably flat stomach and the thin strip of hair she tolerated because her films tended to demand some show of adulthood. Turning away from him and exposing her smooth buttocks, Angelique wriggled into a bottle-green jersey dress.

‘And since when have you cared about showing your tits?’ Mason demanded in a raspy voice. ‘You’re hardly the shy and retiring type.’

Angelique dismissed him with a flap of her hand. ‘Oh, what would you know about it, Mason? You have no idea what I want out of my career. I should fire you, really.’

Mason rolled his eyes. ‘No one else would put up with your shit. And I know exactly what you want from your career – you want to be taken seriously. But stripping off is what you do.’ He shrugged. ‘You have a good body and you use it. End of. So what’s the problem with getting your tits out in Hollywood? No one said you had to show your fucking bush which is an improvement on what you get up to here.’

Angelique flushed. God, the man riled her! ‘I’m just saying that it doesn’t have to be written into every contract I get given. Maybe I’m fed up with it. Maybe I want to take a different direction.’ She gazed at her reflection, touching a hand to her perfectly coiffed hair. ‘How about Angelique, the brand? How does that sound to you?’

‘Arrogant,’ Mason barked in response. ‘Do you really think people want that? What did you have in mind? Clothes by Angelique? Sex toys, perhaps?’

Angelique almost hurled a bottle of champagne at him. Who did Mason think he was? He was supposed to have her best interests at heart. Instead he was like a one-man assassination crew, determined to bring her down.

Mason’s expression softened slightly. ‘It’s Hollywood, Angelique. The big time. Maybe you’d have to do some nudity once or twice but so what? It didn’t kill Halle Berry’s career, and it won’t kill yours.’

It was certainly tempting, and she had wanted to break America for so long. But the timing was all wrong. She couldn’t risk screwing up her opportunity with the Ducasse family, not when it might result in her being set for life.

‘I need to make a call in private,’ Angelique snapped. ‘Please can you fuck off, as you vulgar Americans say?’

‘You’ve got a cheek calling
me
vulgar,’ Mason growled. But he left her to it.

Angelique dialled quickly. ‘Delphine! How lovely to hear from you,’ she purred. ‘Yes, I have five minutes. Please go ahead.’ Listening intently, her mouth curved into a smile as Delphine outlined her proposal.

She had been desperately trying to think of a way to get back into the Ducasse family fold and now Delphine Ducasse, the woman who had, mysteriously, always approved of her, had solved the problem for her.

‘I’d love to,’ she told Delphine, agreeing instantly. ‘Yes, really. I can’t wait.’ She finished the call and handed the BlackBerry back to a trembling Celine who had reappeared. Angelique could tell her assistant was worrying about losing her job.

‘You are forgiven,’ Angelique told her curtly, ‘but don’t ever do that again.’

So grateful she was moved to tears again, Celine shook her head. ‘I won’t.’ She wouldn’t; all her friends envied her for her spectacular job. ‘Um . . . did you tell Mason you’d start the Hollywood talks?’

Angelique shook her head. ‘No. I’ll be in the south of France for the foreseeable future.’

‘The south of France?’ Celine looked bemused.

‘That’s right. Now get me a glass of Veuve Clicquot.’ Angelique crossed her legs and stared into the distance. It had been a long time since she’d been at La Fleurie and she could barely wait to get back. It didn’t matter what offers she’d had from across the pond; there were more important things at stake. How lucky that Delphine had phoned when she did.

Leoni headed into the restaurant to meet Jerard. She liked his choice; it was cosy but smart. She was due to fly to Paris the following morning, the flight booked purposefully so she had a good excuse to get home at the end of the night. It was important not to let Jerard think she was a pushover.

Wearing a classic black Dior dress with a scooped neck and a low back, Leoni felt sexy for the first time in ages. She wore high heels and sheer black stockings but she kept her jewellery chunky so she looked on-trend and chic. Leoni had debated wearing contacts but decided not to bother; she didn’t want to look as though she’d tried too hard. She’d also decided against taking a car so she could drive herself – another way to ensure she didn’t get too drunk and make a fool of herself.

Jerard was sitting at the bar inside.

‘Leoni!’ He greeted her with a warm kiss on each cheek. ‘I’m starving. Shall we order straightaway?’

She nodded. If only her heart would stop beating at a hundred miles an hour. Leoni eyed Jerard as he took his seat opposite her at the table. He was dressed relatively casually in a white shirt with no tie and a pair of jeans but he looked well turned out.

And quite handsome, Leoni thought. ‘I half expected your assistant to be tending to your needs,’ she said, feeling a bit light headed. ‘You seem so close.’ Leoni kicked herself. How obvious.

Jerard shook his head. ‘Suzanne is very pretty but she’s not my type. I like a woman who’s intelligent, businesslike
and
sexy.’ He gave her a pointed glance.

Leoni went slightly pink and lowered her head to study the menu.

‘The châteaubriand is fantastic and so are the mussels,’ Jerard told her, giving her a wide smile.

‘I’ll have the sea bass,’ Leoni told the waiter, noticing that Jerard had very nice blue eyes. Not the piercing blue of Ashton’s but they were lovely. She frowned. Why had she suddenly thought of Ashton?

Jerard ordered a good bottle of red and when they both had full glasses, he raised his across the table. ‘To . . . business,’ he said, his eyes twinkling at her.

‘To business,’ she agreed, chinking her glass. ‘What’s that?’ she asked curiously, indicating a file Jerard had brought to the table.

‘Just some ideas for the designs.’ He smiled, tugging some paperwork out. ‘That’s what we’re here to discuss, isn’t it?’

‘Er . . . yes.’ Leoni felt a thud of disappointment. Of course Jerard had said that it was essentially a business meeting but she had spent all week telling herself it was a date. Now she felt foolish.

Jerard’s mouth twitched. ‘It’s just some design ideas, Leoni,’ he said softly. ‘And then I thought we could get down to the more serious business I had in mind for tonight.’

Leoni raised her eyes to his. ‘What’s that?’

‘Getting to know one another,’ he said.

 

The following morning, Leoni awoke early, hugging herself. The evening with Jerard had been lovely. He had made her laugh, he had complimented her and over a mouth-watering pot-au-chocolat for two, they had also discussed the candle deal in more detail. He had walked her to her car where he had put his arms round her waist and pulled her in for a slow kiss, one that had left her slightly breathless and eager for more. With obvious regret, he had told her he had an important meeting in the morning and wishing her a good trip to Paris, he had waved her off. It had been perfect . . . romantic, sexy without being over the top and deliciously flattering. Leoni really felt as though she was being swept off her feet. Finally, after all her pointless longing for Ashton, it was her turn to be happy.

She had a hurried but steaming hot shower to revive herself after the late night and she put on the rather masculine-looking camel Celine trouser suit she’d bought recently, teamed with a black silk blouse with a pussycat bow. Not sure what Ashton had in mind for their Paris trip, Leoni added just one dress to her suitcase and one pair of high heels. She headed downstairs to collect her briefcase. Her car was already waiting outside on the gravel driveway and, about to leave, she was surprised to see Delphine emerging from the salon.

‘Grandmother! You’re up early.’

‘I’m always up early,’ Delphine returned snippily, gripping her cane with tense knuckles. She eyed Leoni’s suitcase. ‘So, you’re off to Paris, I see. To view this shop, no doubt.’

Leoni nodded, checking she had her wallet and mobile. ‘Have you seen the plans? Ashton has some wonderful ideas to turn it into a boutique-style store with elegant fittings and lots of personal touches.’

‘Yes, I’ve seen the plans.’ Delphine shifted her weight to the other hip, wincing slightly. ‘I must say, I’m surprised Guy has given you the go-ahead.’