Page 114 of Perfume Girl

She swapped a smile with Taylor. “I’m heading out.”

Taylor gave a nod. “I’ll do a loop of the building before I lock up.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, following Taylor’s conflicted stare toward Penelope’s office.

Taylor started to say something.

I gestured for her to hold that thought as I shot off a quick text to my horse trainer, Jacob Nestling, who’d just sent me a message that he was heading over to Bridgestone to secure the horses. He’d volunteered to remain near them during the storm.

“Next time, make sure you’re wearing a scent from our collection,” snapped Penelope to Taylor.

“It’s a gift from my mom,” countered Taylor. “Estee Lauder.”

“I don’t care what it is,” said Penelope, “as long as it’s ours.”

“Seriously?” I gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to berate her in front of Taylor.

“I’ll only wear it on the weekends then,” said Taylor.

I threw her a grateful smile for tolerating my sister’s outburst and headed for the elevator. “Keep me posted on your whereabouts,” I told Penelope. “Stay away from the harbor.”

She gave me a thin smile.

Yeah, sis, I know your dealer sells his drugs from a boat.

I waved the folder in the air. “Let’s get this done.”

“Tell Ms. Wren we want it by Monday,” she said.

I stepped into the elevator.

I felt protective over Raquel and was prepared to shield her. I’d not seen Penelope quite this suspicious of an employee before. Her radar had picked up on how fond I was of Raquel and I put her errant behavior down to her protectiveness.

We’d always looked after each other. Untilthatday when I had been escorted off Bridgestone’s property and hadn’t seen the place again for decades. Guilt remained with me for those terror-stricken hours that had unfolded in the dead of night and even now bled into my every decision, every action and every thought.

Wanting to cleanse myself of my sister’s toxic energy, I felt the need to wrap my arms around Raquel and bury my face in her hair, drawing in the comfort she brought.

Feeling uneasy when I peered through the glass door into the lab and didn’t see her, I walked through the air-controlled door and looked over toward Arabella’s office. She was on the phone. The technicians were at their stations. I searched the storeroom—where pleasant memories flooded back—and then the coffee room.

Approaching Raquel’s area, my curiosity was piqued when I saw the square cologne bottle on her workstation. Resting against it was an envelope addressed to me.

I called over to my senior chemist, Joseph. “Where’s Ms. Wren?”

His gaze floated over her workstation. “I think she left.”

“I just came down,” I said, pointing to the elevator.

“She used the stairs, sir.” He returned his attention to his screen.

Raquel’s handbag was gone. That was strange. And I didn’t like the idea of a note. Maybe, just maybe, she’d headed back up to my office.

I tore open the envelope.

Dearest Astor,

Forgive me for leaving without saying goodbye. I cannot continue to work here. This has nothing to do with what happened between us and I need you to believe that. I want you to know what we had was what I needed and I thank you for the time we spent together. Every single moment of it.

I’ve left you a parting gift!