Page 45 of Perfume Girl

Astor went on ahead into the room and I followed. My addled brain made out the luxury furniture of a hotel suite, and I guessed the bedroom was through one of the doors on our right. As my eyes adjusted to the dimness I straightened my back in defense.

Astor stopped in the center of the room and pivoted to face me.

“Start talking.” His dark tone burned through me.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you working alone?”

“I work for you, Mr. Beauregard.”

“This won’t be the first time one has infiltrated my lab.”

“One what?”

“Spy.”

I sat on the arm of a chair. “I’m not a spy. Why would you think such a thing?”

“I’m giving you a chance to explain yourself, Raquel. Which is decent of me under the circumstances.”

“I create and sell perfumes. That’s what I do.”

“And I read people. Trust me, I’m good at it.”

“Has someone said something?” I asked calmly.

“There’s no point in denying it anymore. You’re hiding something.”

“Yes, I am. Humiliation.” I pushed to my feet and closed the gap between us. “My marriage fell apart because my husband ran off with a younger woman and now he’s pulling his share out of the business so he can buy a fuck-pad with an ocean view. I’ve lost my store, and along with it my job. I’m a woman who no longer trusts anyone. Maybe that’s what you’re picking up.”

His frown deepened.

I added, “What you see is a woman fighting back and refusing to drown.”

“Raquel, swear you’re being honest with me.”

“Have you been honest with me in every respect?”

“Yes.”

I looked around at the décor of his hotel room and let that serve as my accusation against his integrity.

He gave a cursory nod. “I don’t usually bring women here—”

“And then abandon them?”

“Pablo was watching over you.”

“Who?”

“The Chief of Police.”

“Oh, well that’s fine, then,” I said bitterly. “Notify the authorities, why don’t you.”

“You’re so careful all the time…this gave you the jolt of adrenaline your mind and body has been craving. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

My hand twitched with a desire to slap him, but instead I balled it into a fist of frustration. He was still my boss, after all. “What happened to you, Astor?”