Heaven Scent Read Online Free Page B

gentleman, known for good play, large tips and impeccable manners. He also boosted the number of female players, who seemed to have inside knowledge about Xavier’s movements, turning up whenever he did, dressed to kill in sexy gowns. They were like groupies around a pop star, simpering and posturing in the desperate hope of being noticed, but Xavier seemed mostly oblivious to their presence.
    ‘Olivier was reckless,’ Xavier added, ‘in all aspects of his life.’ He scooped up his chips and deftly slipped a hefty one into the top pocket of Gaston’s rather shiny suit. He headed to the bar, accompanied by Gaston. ‘I trust my cheque covered all my cousin’s outstanding debts.’
    ‘It did. Thank you. You are indeed a gentleman.’ Gaston was aware that Xavier had paid Olivier’s debts out of his own bank account rather than the family account.
    ‘Ah well, it’s easy to be a gentleman when you have money.’ Xavier ordered a Scotch on the rocks.
    ‘I disagree,’ Gaston said politely. ‘Your cousin had plenty of money too but he was short on both manners and decorum, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ He flushed. ‘Not that I should speak ill of the dead.’
    Xavier sipped his drink, glancing across the bar. The brunette he had spotted at the table was giving him the eye and he smiled at her.
    ‘I heard Olivier got married before he died. Is this true? Olivier wasn’t the marrying type, surely.’
    ‘News travels fast around here.’ Xavier stood up and smoothed the front of his well-cut Dior suit jacket. ‘You heard correctly. Olivier’s young widow is due at La Fleurie any day. Our solicitor’s letter arrived at the wrong address, by all accounts, hence the long wait.’
    ‘She is, perhaps, after the Ducasse fortune,’ Gaston said lightly.
    Xavier glanced down at the brunette who had shimmied to his side. ‘Who knows?’ He casually tucked the girl’s hand through his arm, racking his brain to recall her name.
    ‘Will you get involved in the business again one day?’ Gaston asked hopefully. His mother was a huge fan of Ducasse Perfumes but having worn Rose-Nymphea for years, she yearned for something different – something ‘fresh but timeless’ was how she put it.
    Xavier’s chocolate-brown eyes had become distant, and Gaston thought he might have put his foot in it.
    ‘Oh, I doubt I’ll work at Ducasse-Fleurie again,’ Xavier answered smoothly, guiding the brunette towards the exit. Monique , he thought triumphantly, that was her name. ‘We have much better things to do, don’t we, Monique?’

    Miles away on a film set in Paris, Angelique Bodart was posing for her final scene, wearing a black silk negligée and high heels, her artfully coloured hair reaching almost to the cleft of her bottom. She pouted and slipped the negligée from her shoulders. It slithered to the ground, revealing very full breasts and creamy skin. She stood facing the camera full frontal, picked up a dagger and traced the tip down her naked body. The script called for her to stab herself because her lover had left her for another man. With several breathy moans, she fell to the ground and rolled into her final position. She turned her head to one side, buried her hand in her bush and faked death in the throes of a violent orgasm for all she was worth.
    ‘And . . . CUT!’ the director shouted frenziedly.
    Angelique lay prostrate for a moment before sitting up gracefully and acknowledging the round of applause she received from the appreciative onlookers. She slipped her negligée back on loosely and strode to the director’s chair where she inspected the rushes over his shoulder. Satisfied she looked her best and had given her most accomplished performance, Angelique took a seat at the back.
    At once her assistant Celine was at her side.
    ‘Newspapers,’ Angelique demanded.
    Celine hurriedly placed a number of crisp newspapers on Angelique’s lap. ‘Your favourite society pages are in the middle,’ she