If only Mum had told her earlier, she might have had an ally in all this. Instead, she’d found out in her mother’s will.

  Anemone was twenty-nine years old and an orphan. Her best friend, Rachael, lived in Norwich and Anemone had no partner to share this with. But if her mum could raise her alone, Anemone could do this. No decisions had been made about if and when she’d reveal her true identity. In the meantime, she was enjoying her job immensely and was discovering that the Pembertons were not the spoiled, entitled rich she’d expected. She liked them.

  The phone rang, disturbing her thoughts, and she rolled her shoulders. She was being paid to do a job, not sit here angsting over a past that couldn’t be changed. She touched her headset to answer the call and put the thoughts of the past behind her.

  * * *

  Phillipe ran a finger around his collar and scowled. This was damned inconvenient, wasn’t it? He’d needed someone to take over the launch and Annie had come highly recommended from her boss in PR. Her steady temperament seemed to fit his own vibe and they worked well together. But in the weeks they’d been working together, he’d started to notice a lot more.

  Like the way her hair curled over her shoulder when she left it down, the light brown flickering with auburn tints in the light. Or how blue her eyes were, even when she wore her cute glasses when she was working. She was amazingly efficient and often anticipated what he needed, which was utterly brilliant. And she was also surprisingly sweet, like when she’d said to call her Annie. Though he somehow preferred the name Anemone. It suited her—bright and cheerful and yet dainty and sweet.

  He rolled his eyes. Mon Dieu, what was wrong with him? What a sappy thing to think.

  He had much more important things to do, like make sure everything was set for the launch next week. This was his first one as a member of the senior management team, and he didn’t want to let William down...or Bella, either. The Pemberton family had put a lot of trust in him when they’d promoted him to the executive team. He’d actually designed this particular scent two years ago. It was an odd bit of symmetry that had him in charge of its launch now.

  Funny how much life could change in two short years.

  He pushed those memories aside and focused on his day’s itinerary instead. Today’s trip to Montparnasse would expose Annie to the wide variety of scents Aurora had to offer. If the lab were closer, he’d love to show her how scents were blended, but Grasse was too far a trip for a day. Instead, he’d show her the end product and try to explain the steps. If she were going to work in fragrance, she should understand it. While they were there, he’d look at the quality control reports and ensure everything was ready to ship next week. Nectar would initially only be available online or in Aurora stores. In six months, they’d expand distribution to an exclusive number of retailers worldwide.

  So many details. There were times he seriously missed the lab. But getting out of Grasse had been a priority after his divorce, and when the opportunity had presented itself, he’d jumped at it.

  A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts. “You ready for our meeting, Phillipe?”

  He spun to find William leaning against the doorframe. “Oui, bien sûr. Sorry. Got lost in my thoughts for a moment there.”

  William chuckled. “I hope they were good thoughts. How are you finding things? I know we threw you into the deep end in the job.”

  “Slightly overwhelming,” he admitted, putting his hands in his pockets. “But I’m managing. It’s a learning curve, that’s all.” More than a learning curve. Throwing him into the “deep end,” as William put it, had been a blessing, because his divorce had nearly drowned him and with the new position, he’d had to start swimming. The less time he had to think about Madelyn, the better. It was also why he shouldn’t notice so much about Anemone. She worked for him, and he was still a wreck from the breakdown of his marriage. Two very good reasons to keep his distance.

  “We’re here to help,” William said, sitting down across from Phillipe’s desk. He opened up a folio. “Did you get the marketing reports this morning? They just sent copies to my office.”

  “Yes, Annie had them all printed out for me. The focus groups did very well. It’s encouraging.”

  “It certainly is. The demographic data is quite illuminating...”

  The meeting got underway, but Phillipe couldn’t seem to erase the image of Anemone’s blue eyes, looking at him through her spectacles.

  He was in so much trouble.

  * * *

  Annie had never been to the storage facility in Montparnasse before. The building itself was rather nondescript, with a heavy double door that could be used as a loading dock. It certainly didn’t have the polished glamour of the Aurora shops or offices, but as Phillipe entered his security code for the front entrance, Annie felt a frisson of excitement. She was still awestruck by the magnitude of the business, and it seemed she learned something more every day. This building was just one in the massive Aurora empire. And clearly, it was a favorite of Phillipe’s. There was no hiding the excitement on his face.

  “After you,” he said, as the panel beeped, and the door unlocked.

  There was a reception area just inside, and he signed them both in and accepted key cards. “Merci,” he said to the receptionist, and then handed the ID over to Annie. “We keep tight security here. There’s a lot of inventory.”

  “Are the perfumes made here?”

  “No,” he answered. “We have a facility in Grasse that manufactures and bottles the perfume. We use this as a shipping base. Would you like to test some?”

  She nodded, trying to keep her head from swiveling to and fro as they made their way further inside. There were no windows into any of the rooms, only steel doors that required a swipe of a card to enter. No marble counters or floors, just unforgiving concrete as their shoes clicked down a long hall. “Is there only perfume here?” she asked, hurrying to keep up.

  “We keep our cosmetics here as well, the skin lines and the makeup. I’m still learning a lot of that part of the division. Scent is my wheelhouse.” With his slight accent, the h was subtly dropped, and Annie was charmed.

  He swiped his card and led her into another room. It was plain, but better than the gray, industrial-looking halls. The walls were white and held glass shelves. But the plainness was erased by the vast array of colorful bottles lining the shelves. Glass every shade of the rainbow glittered around them, and she stopped in her tracks.

  “Oh. Oh, my.”

  He sent her one of those big smiles again. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  Recessed lighting cast a golden hue over the bottles. “Stunning. These are all of Aurora’s perfumes?”

  “Indeed.” He went to a nearby shelf and plucked off a dark blue bottle. “Indigo,” he said, “released three years ago. For men and women. I used bergamot, cardamom, and sandalwood.”

  “You made this?”

  “Yes. And several others here. Before I came to Paris, I led the team in Grasse.”

  “Which is the perfume capital of the world.”

  “Indeed.” He smiled at her again. “You haven’t been?”

  “No, never,” she replied, feeling rather provincial.

  “We’ll have to rectify that someday soon,” he said. He put the bottle back on the shelf and gave her a tour of the room, explaining about the three “notes” to a scent—top, heart and base, and how the concentration of oil to alcohol and water made a scent a perfume, eau de toilette, or cologne.

  There was a long counter on one side of the room and he led her there, then opened the cupboards beneath. “The bottles on the shelves are empty,” he explained. “Light, heat... It can all change the life span of a scent. Humidity, too. Did you know that the worst place to store your perfume products is in your bathroom? Yet that is precisely where most people keep them.” He shook his head as he pulled out a few bottles from the cupboard. “These are kept inside, where it is dark and cool. Let me choose a few for you to try.”

  He let her smell a few samples, setting them on the counter and spraying a strip of paper with the perfume and letting it dry before holding it close to her nose. “Not too many,” he advised, “and you need to give your nose a break in between, or you’ll get nose fatigue.”

  The term made her laugh, but she took in all he told her about the design of the bottles by superior glassmakers. Finally, he took out a stunning amber bottle with bubbles in the glass that made it appear effervescent. “That’s the new one,” she said, admiring the rich design. “The glass is even more beautiful in person.”

  “Exactly. It was created by a glassmaker in Biot, famous for their bubbled glass.” He removed the top and sprayed another strip. “Tell me what you smell.”

  She took a slow sniff and let the scent envelop her. She closed her eyes. “Citrus, I think. And maybe... It’s warm and sweet, like honey, with some sort of flower.”

  “You have a great nose,” he pronounced. “The base notes aren’t revealing themselves to you yet. But yes, blood orange at the top, and honey and jasmine in the heart notes. The base is patchouli and beeswax.”

  “Which is why it’s called Nectar,” she reasoned.

  “Exactly. Though naming it certainly isn’t my department. Hold out your wrist.”

  She did, and he misted it with the fragrance. “Your top notes will be immediately apparent. But as the day goes on, you’ll be able to see how the scent changes with your own body chemistry.”

  She lifted her wrist and inhaled the warm, soft scent. “This is lovely, Phillipe.”

  “It is one of my favorites.”

  “You designed this, too?”

  “I did, two years ago. I’m delighted it’s finally going to market.” He sighed. “It was the last one I mixed. After that, I moved up to running the entire facility and was more hands-off.” His eyes took on a faraway quality, and to her surprise, she thought she detected a flash of pain on his face.

  “You miss it.”

  He smiled at her. “Very much. Don’t get me wrong, I like the new job and it’s a fabulous opportunity. But my heart will always be in the lab with the oils.”

  He clapped his hands together then, dispelling the mood. “Come. There’s more for you to see.”

  By the time they finished the tour, it was after five and Annie’s stomach was growling. She’d only packed some fruit for her lunch, as her fridge was nearly bare and she was trying to economize, and she’d eaten at her desk, trying to plow through her tasks. She’d never thought she’d live the starving-student diet at this point in her life, but the rent on her studio flat ate up most of her earnings. Thankfully, the seconded position came with a premium added to her regular salary. There was only so much ramen a girl could eat.

  “Well, this is where we part, I guess,” Phillipe said, as they stepped outside into the spring air. “Shall I get you a taxi to take you home?”

  They weren’t going back to the office, then. And Annie’s budget wouldn’t strain to cover a cab, not if she wanted to eat at all in the next few days. Walking was out of the question; she was in her heels, and it was a good three miles back to her flat. “Oh, no need,” she said, making her voice breezy. “I’ll catch the train.”

  He frowned. “But it is rush hour. How far away are you?”

  Nerves bubbled in her belly. She’d managed to keep her situation private during her few months in Paris. Once she’d got the job—a miraculous feat in itself—she’d had to sort out logistics. “Only in the third arrondissement,” she said lightly. “I really only have to change once. I’ll be fine, truly.”

  “But surely a taxi is much quicker and easier.” He lifted his hand to hail one, and Annie reached to pull down his arm.

  “Truly, I’m just as happy taking transit.”

  He stared at her for a long moment as a cab drove by, not slowing. She saw the second he understood because his eyes softened. “We don’t pay you enough,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, Annie. I never thought.”

  “It’s fine. I’m no different than a million other working women in the city. I have a budget and a cozy place to live, and I can afford transit easier than cab fare. It’s real life, that’s all.” She thought of her mum, struggling to put food on the table with her meager salary. If Annie had understood, she would have insisted on fewer treats and nice things. It was no surprise that there’d been nothing left at the end.

  There was no point in thinking about it now. As she was fond of saying, “It is what it is.” She just had to work with what she had.

  “It was inconsiderate of me. Especially because I seem to be taking my newfound status for granted. Please, take a cab, and expense it. You were here for work.”

  But it hadn’t felt like work. It had felt like a lovely afternoon exploring something new with an incredibly alluring companion. She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “All right.” She relented, because she could tell he honestly felt bad about it. And he was right about one thing—it was rush hour, and the trains would be packed. She’d be home in less than half an hour this way.

  Since the initial cab had passed, they’d not seen another, so they walked toward the metro station, where they would be sure to find a cabstand. The air was mild with the promise of spring, and sunny. Annie was finding spring in Paris to be every bit as lovely as she’d heard, and it wasn’t a hardship walking next to Phillipe, either.

  “When did you first move to Paris?” he asked, making conversation.

  She tucked her hair again; the light breeze kept ruffling it in front of her face. “Last October when I took the job in the PR department. I was in Guildford before that...outside of London. I lived with my mum and commuted into the city for work.”

  “Your mother must miss you,” he mused.

  She swallowed against a lump in her throat. “My mum died nearly a year ago. She had a brain aneurysm. Nothing we could do, no warning.”

  He stopped, then took her hand in his. “Oh, Anemone. I’m so sorry. What a horrible thing. Do you have any other family?”

  “I never had any brothers or sisters, and my grandparents passed on when I was a teenager.” She smiled up at him. “It’s okay, truly. I wanted a fresh start and here I am. My story tends to be a bit of a downer. How about you? Are you liking being in Paris?”

  He accepted her change of subject and shrugged. “It’s not quite home for me yet. I grew up in Grasse, and I miss it.”

  “You left people behind?”

  His jaw tightened. Not a lot, but just enough that she noticed, and she wished she could take back the question. “My parents. But no one else who would miss me.”

  Her curiosity spiked. There was a lot in what he wasn’t saying, and she figured a relationship had gone wrong. By her best guess, Phillipe had to be in his midthirties. She’d noticed right off that he didn’t wear a wedding ring. But that didn’t mean much in the overall scheme of things. One didn’t have to have a ring to have their heart trampled on.

  “I’m sure that’s not true.” She couldn’t imagine someone not loving Phillipe. He was kind, smart, handsome...the total package, really, when all was said and done. And he was successful. He had a lot to offer someone. “And anyway, her loss.”

  He turned his head sharply to look at her. “Who said there was a woman?”

  “Your face did.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Unless I’m completely wrong.”

  He sighed. “You’re not wrong. My divorce was finalized, oh, a year and a half ago now. I’m afraid I haven’t quite left all my bitterness behind.”

  She thought for a moment as they made their way along the sidewalk that was growing more crowded the closer they got to the station. “I think we all have wounds that take longer to heal than we’d like,” she finally said. “Don’t be too tough on yourself.”

  They reached the cabstand and stood in the short line. “I find that hard to believe of you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets again and met her gaze. “You don’t strike me as the bitter type. Or someone who indulges in self-pity.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “What are you bitter about, Anemone Jones?”

  She looked up at him and took a breath. There was a lot, and while she tried to keep positive, some days resentments did sneak in. She was human, after all. “I never knew my father,” she admitted. “Never even knew who he was until my mother died. And then I found out he’d died before her, so now I’ll never know him at all.”

  Phillipe’s gaze softened. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “That’s rough.”

  “I try not to let it get me down, but there are times when I can’t help but think what if.” She shrugged. “So I get it. Moving on is hard.”

  The couple ahead of them got in their cab and Phillipe and Annie stepped ahead, waiting for the next car. It took no time at all for one to arrive, and they slid into the back seat. “Let’s drop you at yours, and then I can go on to my place and pay for the entire trip with the company card.”

  “Thank you,” she said quietly, but then realized her boss was going to notice that she lived in a very plain walk-up apartment. Then again, what did it matter? He already knew she was finding it very tight financially. She had to let her pride go sometime.

  She gave her address, and the car began zipping its way through traffic. “So,” Phillipe said, “on a lighter topic, the launch party next week. You are coming, yes?”

  Her eyes widened. The launch of Nectar was a posh event in a ballroom with catered food and champagne and beautiful people. She should know; she was organizing it. She certainly didn’t belong there.

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure assistants don’t usually attend these things.”

  “But I think you should. You’re part of the team and you dived right in with the planning and details. This wouldn’t be happening at all if not for you.”