Page 136 of Perfume Girl
More than this, I wanted to prove that what Astor and I had was real. Yes, I had accepted his invitation to work at The House of Beauregard, but surely he’d see my motive was pure when I had stayed with him in South Beach.
What we had was too precious to let slip away.
Which was why I was winding my way down Blueberry Lane looking for Damien’s address, and gawking at the multi-million dollar properties that surrounded me. Now I realized why he’d needed the money from the store to be able to afford to live here. Or at least to chip in a tenth of what Embry had spent on their new home.
Though I couldn’t see it from here, I knew their front lawn would face the water.
Wow, people.Here was my life crumbling around me and everyone else was getting on with theirs in the best possible way.
I rang the doorbell and turned around to admire the street, where there was not even one dropped leaf anywhere from the storm. The cleanup had been quick and efficient. This neighborhood was a world away from what I had known with my ex-husband.
Embry opened the door. “Hey, Raquel, what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to see Damien.”
“Was he expecting you?” She looked concerned.
“I’m here to collect a ledger I gave to him for safekeeping.” I’d actually called his number and left a message, but she didn’t need to know that.
“Come in.” She stepped back.
“Thank you.”
The interior matched the grandness of the outside, with its modern open plan design. Here and there were unpacked boxes proving they’d just moved in. My focus was on the sprawling garden—and beyond it the breathtaking view of the water where I saw luxury yachts floating by. No doubt the guests aboard the tour boats would also be awestruck by this waterfront property, along with the many others running along the bank.
“You have a beautiful home. The view’s spectacular.” It sounded overly polite but I didn’t want to put her off the idea of me having access to Damien’s office.
“I love it here. We’re still unpacking so excuse our mess.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, thinking that if things hadn’t gone south in my marriage I might be the one living here. “Goodness, being a meteorologist really pays off. This must be from all the danger money they pay you?” I winked to soften it.
“I wish. Covering those storms is a rush though. I love my job. This is all Damien.” She gestured for me to follow. “Want a drink?”
Despite my mouth being dry, I declined. “What did you mean about Damien?”
As she walked down a hallway, she turned to look over her shoulder at me. “Damien found this place and put a bid in as soon as it came on the market. It was an easyyes. The guy who owned it before was an architect so there’s some unusual features that make the place stand out.” She pointed to the sparkling pool of water. “It’s actually deeper than the usual swimming pool. He’s a diver so it’s where he trained his family so they could join him in Jamaica.”
I had only been half listening. I was still trying to work out how my ex had afforded this place. “Has Damien been hired at a new restaurant?”
“Right now, he’s still at La Traviata.” She smiled and stopped in front of his office. “He’s relocating next week to a new restaurant in South Beach as head chef.”
His visit to The House of Beauregard made more sense now. He really had been in the area for business.
She led me into the office.
I took in the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, leather furniture, and the window overlooking their enormous garden, trying to imagine where Damien had gotten the funds to afford this sprawling home. I’d Google how much this place had cost him later, but right now my focus was on his desk, my gaze scanning the mess.
The sound of a ringtone came from another room.
“I need to get that,” said Embry.
“I’ll wait.” I gave her a polite smile and watched her leave, then sprang into action, hurrying over to his desk and shuffling through the papers. Glancing up, I checked the doorway to ensure Embry didn’t catch me rummaging around and continued my search in the filing cabinet.
Oh, thank God.
I found it lying underneath the files in the bottom drawer, as though he’d gone out of his way to hide it. Maybe he’d not wanted Embry to know he was helping me out by keeping it safe, since it might have set off an argument.
I shoved it into my handbag and walked over to the window just as Embry returned.
