Page 9 of Perfume Girl

She handed me a piece of paper. “Here’s a coupon for any two services, not including the one you didn’t get today. Happy birthday.”

Yes, another year down and feeling just as fabulous.

After the heavenly massage, the drive home was even more relaxing. I peered out my window at the lush beauty of green trees, exotic wildlife and endless ocean. We’d be heading out on the water this afternoon with a picnic hamper and a heart full of happiness.

Though I did think it strange my husband had booked me a spa day so far away from home. There and back was an hour’s drive. As usual, he probably had been in a hurry due to running a busy restaurant.

I pulled into the driveway of our home, noticing a red Mazda parked to the side. Wondering who it belonged to, I peered through the driver’s window looking for clues, but didn’t see anything that gave the owner’s identity away. Perhaps his mother had gotten a new car.

I let myself into the house and came to an abrupt stop when I saw a handbag on the kitchen counter—a Burberry. With my heart thundering in my chest, I closed the gap between me and the island and opened the purse.

I wasn’t meant to be back yet.

Feeling numb, I walked into the foyer. I paused at the bottom of the staircase, and then slowly began the ascent to the upper floor. I didn’t want this to be true…didn’t want to believe Damien would betray me.

How could I possibly survive the pain?

I told myself there had to be a good explanation, though my throat still tightened in trepidation as I made my way down the hallway to our bedroom.

The two of them were on our bed, their clothes strewn on the floor right next to my dignity.

The naked blonde was on all fours with her butt in the air. Damien was pounding her from behind, his grunts matching her loud moans thrust for thrust.

Five months after our divorce, the ache in my chest still hadn’t lifted…nor would it ever.

La Traviata’s kitchen was hot as hell and I wondered how the staff could stand it.

Damien’s blonde locks were damp and ruffled. The deep blue eyes that were capable of so much kindness were focused on his work as he stood at the central island.

He sliced through the bloody slab of meat with the same indifferent precision he’d used to slice through my life.

That tattooed hunk had once been my everything.

His gaze rose to meet mine and for a moment, just a moment, he looked happy to see me. That lazy smile reached his eyes, crinkling into warmth.

Feeling wary, I took a deep breath and bravely stepped toward him. “Hey.”

The smile faded. “Raquel, you need to call first.” There was tension in the way he held his knife.

I glanced over at his colleague. “Can you give us a moment, please?”

“We’re kind of busy, babe.” Damien threw an apologetic glance at his friend.

I stared at him. “I’m not selling the store.”

“Not here,” he scolded.

“You don’t return my calls.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Withher.He’d been busy with her.

“I had a break-in at the store.”

He laid his knife down and leaned forward on the countertop, his forearms flexing. “You’re okay though, right?”

“Did you know about it?”