Page 147 of Perfume Girl
I turned and walked into the dimly lit hallway.
Within a few minutes I’d left Penelope with Tiffany for a lap dance. Heading out, I gave my sister’s driver a wave of thanks as I passed his parked car, reassured he would get the women home safe. Walking over to my Range Rover, I raised my gaze to the horizon.
The evening had brought glorious reds and oranges across a vanilla sky and I took a few seconds to admire the sunset. Bitterness from the aftertaste of that Scotch lingered, but it was nothing compared to the level of betrayal that surrounded me.
And then, as I opened my palm and stared down at the Lalique bottle I’d found at Raquel’s shop, the same one I believed was Penelope’s, it dawned on me…if this was my sister’s then there shouldn’t be another bottle back in my office drawer.
I leaped into my Range Rover and sped off toward The House of Beauregard.
MY HATRED FORDAMIEN HADrisen to an entirely new level.
I drew in a sharp breath and reminded myself that screaming at him wasn’t going to get me answers.No, a cool and calm demeanor was best with him. Though I had failed at that the last time I had been to his home and faced off with Embry.
She stole my fricking husband. I mean, what did she expect, flowers?
Of all the people I could have entrusted with my ledger, I’d given it to him. The one person I should never have trusted.
It all made sense now.
I drove through the posh South Beach neighborhood once again, knowing now that I had paid for the privilege of Embry and Damien living here. He’d sold my formula to Penelope. Now that I had my ledger back with that page ripped out by him, he would soon find out I knew the truth.
I parked my car in the driveway and rang the doorbell. Hearing footsteps approaching from the other side, I straightened my back ready to face off with the man who had betrayed me twice. He’d been the one to fake a break-in so he could steal my formula.
He probably believed he had stripped my will to fight.
Damien was wrong.
The door opened and he stood there in ripped jeans and a tight T-shirt. I knew that smug expression. Years of marriage gives you the advantage when it comes to reading your man. He wasn’t mine anymore, and I almost felt sorry for Embry. I read culpability in him and he probably read my anger.
“Hey.” He leaned forward to look out at the street, as though checking to see if there would be any witnesses to what was about to go down.
“I need to talk with you.” With a gesture, I indicated I would rather speak inside.
“We’re kind of in the middle of something.”
“It can wait.”
“Great.”
“I meanyourshit can wait.” I barged by him and headed into the living room. “Is Embry here?”
He walked toward me. “What do you want?”
“I know what you did, Damien.”
“What did I do?”
“I asked you to look after my ledger and you tore the last page out. You tried to destroy evidence of my perfume.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Just so you know I took a snapshot of it on my phone. I still have it.”
“Well, that’s good.” He sighed unconvincingly. “Look, it wasn’t me. There’s a lot of confusion and this storm—”
“Cut your bullshit.”
“Are you jealous?” He gestured around. “We’re living like this, and you can’t stand it.”
