Page 103 of Perfume Girl

Hurrying into the elevator, I faced the foyer, reeling with what I had just been told. The man I’d been sleeping with had been sent to Cuba because he was dangerous.

Dear God, don’t let it be true.

Astor marched across the foyer to join me.

When our eyes locked, the doors shut. I held his gaze through the glass. Was I really staring at a man who’d murdered his father?

He stared back, bewildered by my state.

My glass tomb descended with a jolt.

When the elevator opened, I hurried into the basement, racing through its temperature controlled entrance. A burst of cold air hit me. I scurried toward my workstation, realizing the place was empty. Everyone had gone on their break, leaving me alone in here.

Perhaps Astor had been playing with a gun and it had gone off. I wondered what had caused the disruption that the police had been called for. All the scenarios were too terrible to contemplate.

I’d experienced so many different emotions since meeting Astor, but until now fear had not been one of them. Trepidation, yes, but not apprehension for what this man might be capable of. The bond between a son and his father affected a childhood in so many ways and this kind of devastation would have damaged him beyond repair.

Was it in his nature to kill? Had he killed anyone since?

Why him? While I was falling hard and fast and my heart broke for what he had to carry each day…guilt, self-hatred, a distrust of the world…all I ever felt from him was kindness.

My chest tightened when the elevator rose out of its glass structure and headed back up to the first floor. The mechanism stilled and then came the familiar twisting and rolling of cables that meant it was descending once more.

I focused on my workstation and dragged a notepad toward me, pretending to be busy. I turned to look in the direction of the elevator to convey a natural curiosity, not a terror-drenched panic.

Astor’s dark stare was on me as he waited for the doors to slide open. He stepped out and strolled toward me with his right hand casually tucked into his pocket. He glanced around at the empty workstations.

“Ms. Wren.” He closed the gap between us.

“Astor.” I licked my lips nervously.

“Everything okay?” He cupped my cheek with his palm. “You left before we had time to talk.”

“I’m fine.”

“Sure?”

I nodded, closing my eyes. I couldn’t get the terrible vision out of my head…Astor pointing a gun at his father.

The ping of the elevator as it began to ascend startled me and I opened my eyes.

Astor ran his thumb over my mouth.

“What did Damien want?”

“To talk.”

“About?”

I lowered my gaze.

“DAMIEN WANTS ME TO HURRYand sell the shop.”

“Nothing new there.”

“He’s going to buy a home on the water.” I bit the inside of my cheek. “They found a place.”

“In South Beach?”