Heaven Scent (45 page)

Guy looked unconvinced. ‘Our lilac and white colour scheme is so safe. If we changed it, people might feel confused about who we are.’

‘Not if you tweaked it slightly. What if . . .’ Cat thought for a moment. She glanced at a photograph of Guy and Delphine accepting an award in New York years ago. The annual FiFi event was thought to be the Oscars of the fragrance world and any award given by them was extremely prestigious. Cat frowned at the lilac ribbon in the photo, sure that this was the detail that jarred.

‘What if you changed the lilac ribbon for a deep, rich purple?’ she suggested. ‘You could keep the classic white boxes and packaging, they’re clean and sophisticated and they do make the Ducasse-Fleurie brand instantly recognisable. But the overall look would be more dynamic.’

Guy held his hands up; he just couldn’t visualise it.

Cat grabbed the edge of her purple T-shirt and held it against a white box someone had left lying on the sofa. ‘See? It’s a lovely contrast. It’s much bolder and younger but I don’t think it would put the older generation off because it’s such a classy combination. It’s sophisticated rather than flowery.’

‘All right, I can see how that might work,’ Guy conceded, somewhat grudgingly. As open as he was being, he did find change difficult. ‘But how do we go about doing something like that?’

‘It’s easy enough,’ Cat said, her mind flipping through her mental encyclopaedia of advertising scenarios. ‘I can think of a couple of companies who’ve done this over the years. The best example is Brash, the clothing company. They changed their logo from an exclamation mark to the name itself.’

Guy took the perfume box and turned it over in his hands. ‘We can afford it but I just wonder if it’s worth it.’

‘Ducasse-Fleurie is a great brand,’ Cat said earnestly, leaning forward, ‘but with fresh ideas and a more modern look it could be an amazing one, something really exciting and vibrant. Wouldn’t that be more fun? Wouldn’t that make all of you want to go into the office every morning and get involved?’

Guy stared at her.

‘I think you should take Leoni more seriously,’ Cat ventured, settling back down on the sofa again. ‘Leoni has her finger on the pulse. She knows what modern fragrance brands are doing and she wants to branch out and give the Ducasse-Fleurie brand a chance to really become a household name. The home fragrance line, the shop in Paris – she’s right. In my opinion, her visions are just what this company needs.’

‘Wow.’ Guy sat back, his thoughts all over the place. He thought about the Paris building and felt guilty. He had pushed Ashton to acquire it but only because of Marianne, hardly the most sensible of reasons! Cat was making him realise he should have listened to his niece more carefully. Perhaps she really
did
know what was good for the business . . .

Cat watched him. Despite having told herself not to throw caution to the wind again, she did just that. ‘It makes sense outside of business too.’

Guy drained his glass. ‘Sorry, what?’

‘That sometimes you have to take a fresh look at things, try a different approach. Don’t you think?’ Gently, Cat braved Guy’s wrath. ‘I . . . saw you the other day. In the graveyard.’

Guy’s head snapped up. The blood drained from his face. ‘Y-you what?’

Cat quickly carried on speaking. ‘Please don’t be embarrassed. I haven’t said a word to anyone. And I’ve done the exact same thing. If you’d stumbled upon me when I first arrived, you would have seen me yelling and crying over Olivier’s grave. It’s cathartic.’

‘I was just feeling emotional,’ Guy said in a dismissive tone. However, his face contorted with agony at the memory of it. The thought that he’d been seen was excruciating and he thanked God it was Cat who had seen him and not a member of his family. ‘It was a one-off,’ he added, keen to gloss over the incident.

‘Was it?’ Cat saw his shoulders shaking slightly and, moving closer, she grasped his hands. ‘Guy, my parents died in a skiing accident when I was a kid and it nearly killed me. I . . . I know what grief looks like.’

Guy stood up, shocked. He ran a hand through his silver hair, ‘I’m not grieving! Elizabeth died over two years ago.’

‘Grief can take years to manifest itself. . . I saw a counsellor when I was younger and he said I managed to suppress mine for around a year before I faced up to how terrible I was feeling.’

Guy paced the room, agitated. ‘Fine, so I get upset about Elizabeth now and again. Isn’t that natural? When something goes wrong, I wish she was here to help me out because I feel as though I don’t know what to do.’ He loosened his shirt collar, feeling light headed. ‘That doesn’t mean I’m grieving!’

Cat bit her lip. She’d seen people behave exactly the way Guy was now at her counselling group. It was ages ago now but there had been a man there who was exactly like Guy; he felt dreadful but he couldn’t believe it could be down to his wife’s death five years ago.

‘Maybe you could see someone,’ she suggested cautiously. ‘It might help . . . you might find you can support Max and Seraphina more . . .’

Guy spun round. ‘Oh, so I’m not supporting them?’ he roared. ‘Did they put you up to this? Because if they did, so help me God—’

‘Of course not!’ Cat rushed to correct him. ‘The twins had nothing to do with this. I’m saying this because I can see the signs. I’ve been through this.’

‘My children are fine. Why would you even bring them up?’

Cat shook her head, not sure what to say. ‘Guy . . .’ She paused, wanting him to know she was trying to help him. ‘I’m saying all this because . . . because I care about you, all right? You’re hurting and it’s horrible and you don’t have to do this on your own.’

Guy froze. His eyes filled with tears at her kind words and he turned away from her. ‘My children are fine . . . and I’m fine. Do you understand?’ Fiercely, he turned and pointed his finger at her. With that, he stormed from the room.

Cat was horrified at herself. What on earth had possessed her to push him so hard? Guy was clearly in a mess and she had pushed and pushed until he had almost cracked. She put her head in her hands, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. Remembering Xavier, Cat found herself sobbing again.

 

The following day, Angelique was reclining on an ivory chaise longue wearing nothing but a lilac body stocking. Stretched out and posing from the tips of her toes to the top of her blond head, she was looking into the camera with a knowing smile.

‘I can’t see the perfume bottle,’ the director that Delphine had hired called out.

Angelique rolled her eyes and held the bottle out in front of her.

‘Not like that,’ Stefan groaned. He threw a glance at Leoni who had stopped by to take a look at the campaign as it got underway. ‘I thought she was supposed to be a professional,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘Professional pain in the backside,’ she murmured back. Leoni had never really liked Angelique. When she had last been at La Fleurie, she had been charming and gracious but Angelique always expected to be the centre of attention and, as such, she was exhausting. The constant demands were tiresome and after a while her exotic presence palled. And now that she knew what Angelique had done to Xavier . . .

Leoni frowned. She had never really thought Angelique and Xavier made a very compatible couple. They looked sensational together, of course, but that was about it. They hadn’t seemed to have much in common; in fact, Leoni had always had a sneaking suspicion Angelique had had the hots for Olivier. The pair of them were similar in personality – both were brash extroverts and both did whatever they wanted, regardless of the cost to others. Leoni had asked him about it once, but Olivier had vehemently denied any attraction to Angelique, claiming that he detested women who had a bigger ego than he did, and Leoni believed him. Olivier had always been a liar but his words had had a strong ring of truth about them.

Staring at the shot of Angelique holding the perfume bottle, Leoni wasn’t sure the image was what she had envisaged. She had now read the brief Xavier had put together and on the face of it, Angelique fitted the bill. She was glamorous, sexy and aspirational, but something was missing. Angelique’s body was flawless; she was in great shape and it was clear she spent an enormous amount of time looking after herself. Leoni would kill to have breasts like Angelique but, wryly, she decided they wouldn’t suit her boyish frame and that they would probably make all her clothes hang strangely.

‘Get me some water,’ Angelique ordered her quivering assistant. ‘And make sure it’s iced.’

‘Right away,’ Celine said, rushing to do as she was told.

Leoni felt uncomfortable as she watched the exchange. How often had she snapped at staff like that when she was working? How often had she treated people with disdain just because she was busy? Her thoughts were a bit like being doused in the ice-cold water Celine was handing Angelique.

‘Isn’t she professional?’ Celine commented to Leoni as she stood out of the way. ‘I don’t know how she does it.’

Leoni nodded, Celine was clearly in awe of her famous boss. ‘She has incredible skin.’ Leoni frowned, wondering how Angelique could look so good round the clock. ‘It looks as though she polishes it or something.’

‘Regular massages,’ Celine confided behind her hand. ‘She has this wonderful masseuse who looks after her because she’s so famous for her glowing skin.’ Leoni raised an eyebrow. If only she had time for such things. Still, whatever Angelique did to look after herself, it was working. Her skin was flawless and glowing and she looked years younger than she actually was.

Celine was goggling at the room and its paintings and ornaments. ‘This château is so beautiful,’ she said, turning shining eyes towards Leoni. ‘I was all set to hate it because it wasn’t Hollywood but now I’m here, I can see what all the fuss is about.’

‘Hollywood?’

Celine’s eyes flickered to Angelique but seeing that she was having a heated exchange with the director about the position of her breasts, Celine couldn’t resist gossiping. ‘Angelique was due to go to Los Angeles to discuss a Hollywood film,’ she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. ‘A really big one. Her agent, Mason, is absolutely livid about it.’

Leoni gave her a sideways glance. ‘I don’t blame him. Why would Angelique turn down such an exciting opportunity?’

‘I don’t know.’ Celine shrugged. ‘As soon as Delphine Ducasse phoned her about the campaign, she wasn’t interested in anything else.’

This was all news to Leoni; according to Cat,
she
had been the one to approach Angelique with the idea – on Delphine’s suggestion, admittedly, but still. Something wasn’t right. The news made her feel better about one thing, however; Angelique’s feelings for Xavier had to be real. Why else would she give up the chance to break America unless she was head over heels in love with him?

‘Did you realise Angelique still had feelings for Xavier before she came back here?’ Leoni asked Celine, watching Angelique as she turned on to her back and let her legs fall to one side. ‘I mean, are you two close in that way?’

Celine looked vague. ‘I don’t know anything about Xavier,’ she replied, not really paying attention. ‘Angelique has never mentioned him before. And yes, I suppose we are rather close.’ She flushed. ‘I know she sounds rude sometimes but she does actually tell me quite a lot.’

Leoni was feeling more confused by the minute. ‘But Xavier is the reason she’s here, isn’t it? She can’t really have turned down a Hollywood part for a perfume campaign, it has nowhere near enough exposure.’

Celine shook her head. ‘Not to my knowledge. Angelique says she’s all about her career and I believe her. No, she’s here for this ad campaign and nothing else, as far as I know. I think Angelique wants respect, you see, to be taken seriously. And that’s something she thinks the ad campaign will bring her.’ Celine looked impressed. ‘My boss is the hardest working woman I’ve ever met. Men adore her, of course, but she really doesn’t seem to care too much about them either way.’

Leoni stared at Angelique thoughtfully. Perhaps she kept up a professional attitude in front of her assistant, perhaps she made a point of not discussing her personal business. But Leoni couldn’t ignore a niggling feeling of doubt. Something was wrong with this picture . . . something didn’t ring true. It was what Celine had said about Angelique wanting respect and wanting to be taken seriously. Leoni could relate to that and she realised how fronting up a campaign for Ducasse-Fleurie would bring her the kudos and respectability she craved. She just wondered if Angelique had far bigger plans for raising her profile and ensuring she would never have to take her clothes off and prostitute herself any longer.

Relieved to have something other than Ashton to think about, Leoni decided to make it her business to find out exactly what Angelique was up to.

 

Still fuming about the party, Max was brushing his horse with rapid, jerky strokes. Wearing a smudged, duck-egg blue polo shirt and black jodhpurs, he stalked around Le Fantome, rubbing her grey coat more gently as she whinnied and nudged him. Seraphina, walking towards the stables with Cat, noticed how dark Max’s mood was from ten feet away. ‘Look at him, he’s seething,’ she commented, tearing open a can of Coke. Undoing her plait with one hand, she shook her hair free until it lay in ripples around her shoulders. Wearing a white sundress over a khaki bikini, she cut a stylish figure, but her expression was one of exhausted misery. The business with Yves had hit her hard and she was struggling to cope with the public humiliation of it all.

Feeling equally dismal, Cat observed Max. His body language was aggressive and his anger was apparent in every movement. Cat glanced at the stable she and Xavier had found themselves in at the party but she tore her eyes away deliberately, refusing to dwell on what had happened. She had cried far too much lately and it was time to pull herself together.