The Secret Ways of Perfume by Cristina Caboni Page B

mother.”
    Yes, she was still her mother. But that didn’t matter anymore. She hadn’t been part of Elena’s life for years now. One day she’d simply stopped hoping Susanna could love her. But it wasn’t that simple.
    Even though what Jasmine was saying made sense, Elena had no intention of thinking about Maurice or her mother; right now, she couldn’t face it. And it wasn’t just them. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, dragging her into a vortex of feelings that she didn’t know how to escape. Her heart ached.
    â€œI’ll think about it,” she managed, before she hung up.

Five

    L AVENDER:
relaxation. Intense and sweet; herbal with balsamic undertones.
    The complex fragrance seduces and bewitches.
    Refreshes and purifies the spirit; relieves exhaustion, fear and anxiety.
    P ARIS
    B y day, Paris was rich and fascinating beyond belief; by night, the city showed its true character as
La Ville Lumière
—the City of Light. As Monique flew above it, gazing at the lights in the tall townhouses, the Eiffel Tower and the long, gold ribbons of illuminated streets dividing up its most stylish quarters, she knew that some of those lights, shining like diamonds, were in reality just the headlights on thousands of cars speeding through the streets. Yet from the sky they looked like jewels. Paris was a city that knew the value of appearance.
    Jacques had sent her a message. He wouldn’t be coming to meet her at the airport. Something had come up at the last minute, something really important. But he’d send the car.
    Monique sighed. Things had started “coming up” a lot lately; he always had something more important to do.
    She carried on watching the city as it sparkled happily, resolutely staving off the wave of self-pity that was threatening to emerge from the depths of her soul. They would be landing soon, the pilot announced. The slightly distorted voice told them to keep their seat belts fastened until the doors were open, gave the final instructions for landing and ended with a curt, “Welcome to Paris.” When the wheels touched down, a tired round of applause rippled over her. Monique unfastened her seat belt, collected her bag and stood in the line to disembark.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    â€œWake up, mon
amour
. It’s not like I’m going to let you sleep, anyway.”
    Monique opened her eyes and jumped up, with Jacques’s fingers still touching her.
    â€œGet that hand off me, now.”
    He gave a lazy smile, then got off the bed and straightened his tie. His expression was inscrutable.
    â€œNervous,
chérie
?”
    Monique rubbed her hand over her face, trying to dispel sleep. Then she clenched it into a fist, to stop the shaking.
    â€œWhat are you doing in my house?”
    Jacques smiled at her again: hair perfectly slicked back, piercing dark eyes, the look of a man who knows he has the world at his feet. Standing in the middle of Monique’s little loft apartment, he looked like lord and master of everything. He was confident, determined—everything would go just the way he planned it.
    God, he was handsome! Monique had to force herself to keep her distance. She grabbed hold of the sheet, clutching it like a lifeline. The urge to beg him to continue what she’d just told him to stop was almost overwhelming.
    â€œI wanted to put things right. I haven’t treated you very well,” he replied, unbuttoning his jacket.
    â€œThat’s one way of putting it,” Monique muttered.
    Jacques went over to the window and opened the curtains. The sun came flooding into the room. Monique shielded her eyes, unused to the sudden brightness.
    â€œSo, how was Florence?” he asked smoothly.
    â€œOld, beautiful, dilapidated.”
    â€œYes, it’s a charming city. I should go with you next time,” he said, as though he really meant it. But, if there was one thing Monique had