Chapter 9
Elora
"Slow down, you'll choke."
Lucien's voice drifted from the living room. Soft. Concerned.
Was Natalie sick? My heart lurched. I shoved my coat at the maid and rushed toward the living room. Before I got there, a woman's laugh rang out.
"You still worry too much about me."
The moment I saw what was in front of me, my blood turned to ice—that photograph had come to life.
On the sofa, maybe a dozen steps away. Pale gold hair. White skin. Cream cashmere dress. The woman leaned half-sideways against Lucien's shoulder, one hand resting naturally on his arm, fingertips lightly hooked around his sleeve.
Lucien didn't push her away. He just looked down, listening to her speak. Relaxed. His gray eyes held something helpless, indulgent.
On the other side of the sofa sat an older man in a black suit, hair slicked back, both hands folded over a cane. He spotted me first. His gaze slid over me, and my spine tightened. I stepped back instinctively, my foot catching the doorframe. The other two turned.
"Elora."
Lucien lifted his head. That indulgence vanished the second his eyes met mine, back to the familiar deep, controlled mask.
"You're home."
"Yeah. Just finished at the shop."
He gestured slightly. "Serena Casalesi. Carlo's daughter. Carlo, head of the Casalesi family."
Serena. That name had been spinning through my head for weeks.
"Hello." I forced a smile.
Serena finally straightened a little. She looked up at me, her eyes pale blue with faint shadows beneath that made her look fragile, pitiful, the kind that made you want to soften.
"So you're Elora." She smiled and waved. "Nice to finally meet you. Lucien never mentioned you to me."
Interesting choice of words. Like she was complaining about him, but really telling me he'd hidden my existence from her.
"No problem. At least we're meeting now."
"Yeah." Her gaze traveled over me. "You're more... down-to-earth than I expected."
"Thanks. Hard to stay pristine when you're working with oils all day."
Serena blinked. She looked confused.
"Mrs. Genovese," Carlo spoke up then, his tone slow, unpleasant. "I hear you do therapeutic work?"
"I do."
"Oh. Distinctive hobby."
"Yeah." I nodded. "People need pursuits."
Carlo's finger tapped the snake head of his cane.
"Of course."
The living room fell silent.
"Elora, come sit." Lucien finally spoke.
I was about to move when Serena suddenly pressed a hand to her chest, frowning. Her shoulders curled forward, and she started coughing. Each sound seemed wrenched from her with great effort. Her other hand braced against the sofa, lashes lowered, an unhealthy flush rising on her pale cheeks.
"Sorry..." she said between gasps. "It's so much colder here... than Italy..."
Lucien was on his feet instantly. He crossed to the side cabinet, poured half a glass of warm water, tested the temperature with the back of his hand against the glass, decided it wasn't right, dumped half out and adjusted it again before returning to the sofa.
One hand supported her back, the other brought the glass to her lips.
"Small sips."
She drank from his hand. I had never seen Lucien Genovese test water temperature for anyone.
He'd bought me candles, gotten my grandmother's necklace back, even told me I was fine the way I was.
But he'd never tested water for me. That kind of small thing only happens when someone ranks first in your heart.
"Better?" Lucien asked with concern.
"Better." Serena pushed the glass away, looking up at him. "I'm fine. You don't need to be so nervous."
"You used to end up in the hospital every time you coughed."
"That was over ten years ago."
"The doctors say you're not much better now."
"You're worse than my father."
Carlo chuckled softly beside them. I suddenly felt my position was awkward. Like I'd walked into the wrong room and everyone was politely waiting for me to leave.
"Um..." I started.
Three pairs of eyes turned to me.
"There's a new formula I need to sample at the shop tomorrow. I should go up and finish organizing the notes."
"Come down before dinner." Lucien didn't even turn around.
"Okay."
I turned and went upstairs. Back in the bedroom, I closed the door and leaned against it.
I was behind the counter blending a batch of cedar base when the door swung open, cold air rushing in, followed by the voices of four or five women and the click of heels on hardwood.
Serena came in first. The cold had made her face even paler. Behind her were three faces I recognized from the society pages, each in seasonal furs, makeup flawless.
"It has character," one said.
"Veronica, don't say it like that." Serena gently chided, then turned to me. "Elora, I'm dropping in unannounced."
"Welcome." I set down my dropper. "What can I help you with?"
"Calming aromatherapy." She approached the counter, removing her gloves. "My heart condition keeps me from sleeping well. The doctor said no medication, only these things."
"Sure." I pulled out my notebook. "I need to ask some questions. Your specific heart condition, medications you're taking, any allergies to essential oils—you need to be as detailed as possible."
"Of course." Serena nodded but didn't answer right away. She sat on a stool, surveying the space, her gaze landing on a row of small bottles on the windowsill. "Are those samples? Looks a bit messy."
"Those are aging."
"Oh," Serena answered absently, then finally began answering my earlier questions.
"I'll have your formula ready in three days."
Serena nodded. She was about to say something when the doorbell chimed.
"Elora."
It was Julian. He carried a paper bag in one hand and a small bouquet of roses in the other.
"Julian." I came out from behind the counter. "You don't have an appointment today."
"I was passing by." He set the bag on the counter. "That last formula you made worked great. This is a thank you." He held out the roses.
"Julian, I—"
"Take them." He smiled. "The florist said it was the last bunch today, so I grabbed it. You mentioned the shop needed more color."
I had said that, on a rainy day when everything looked gray. But that didn't mean I should accept his roses.
"I'll put them in water." Claire straight-up took the flowers. "God, Elora, this red with your dark green awning is perfect!"
"Claire."
"Okay, okay, I'll shut up."
I turned around. Serena was watching us. Her head tilted slightly, gaze moving between me and Julian, finally landing on the roses in Claire's arms.
"Julian Moretti."
Julian looked at her. His smile vanished.
"Miss Casalesi."
"You two know each other?"
"New York's a small circle." Serena smiled. "Especially for our families."
The air suddenly tightened. Julian's expression sharpened.
"I'll come back next week." He turned to me. "I'll call about scheduling."
"Okay."
Serena stood, smiling with meaning. "You're more interesting than I thought. No wonder Lucien would—"
She didn't finish. She turned and left.
By the time I got home, dinner had already started. Natalie was talking about her new tulip bulbs, Serena chiming in, both laughing. When she saw me, Serena's eyes lit up. She waved.
"You know what? I went to Elora's shop today."
Natalie looked up. "How was it?"
"Wonderful." Serena's smile was radiant. "Really. Decorated so thoughtfully, lovely scents. Elora was extremely professional, even asking about my medications."
"That's her way." Natalie nodded with approval. "Last time I had a headache, she dug up that I'd fallen and hurt my back thirty years ago."
"But that's not what surprised me most."
Serena looked at me. Something about the smile in her eyes felt cold.
"Lucien, you don't know this, but Elora's got quite the charm. I was at the shop for less than twenty minutes when a gentleman came by specifically to bring her gifts. Tuscan orange blossom honey. And a bouquet of red roses."
The sound of a fork hitting a plate rang clear through the dining room.
"Oh, who was it?" Natalie asked curiously.
"Julian Moretti." She added with a smile, "I really didn't expect even him to fall at Elora's feet."
The dining room went completely silent. Natalie's smile froze. Lucien lifted his head, his eyes slowly turning toward me. Sweat broke out across my back.
"He's just a client. He's been coming for treatments since August. Today he brought honey because the last formula worked, and then—"
Lucien said nothing.
"—and the flowers, he just picked them up on impulse, I didn't accept them, Claire took them. He..."
My voice faded on its own. But I forced myself to continue. "Lucien, I didn't—"
"Shut up."
Lucien said it calmly. Even Natalie's eyes held scrutiny now. I sat there, the food in my mouth like wax.
The silence at the table hung until dessert was cleared. Natalie excused herself first, claiming a headache. Serena took her time saying goodbye. The huge dining room was left with just him and me, and that chandelier casting cold white light across the tablecloth.
Back in the bedroom, I'd just taken off my earrings and set them in the tray when the door shut behind me.
"Start from the beginning." Lucien leaned against the door. "When did Julian Moretti start?"
"He's just a client." I turned, trying to steady myself. "He said a friend referred him for treatment. That's it."
"Those roses last time, he sent them, didn't he?"
"How did you—" I cut myself off, not daring to look up.
"How did I know, right?" he asked calmly, but that calm scared me more.
"Yes..." I admitted quietly, then rushed on. "But he'd just had his heart broken, I said a few comforting words, and he wanted to give them to me, I—"
"What's his heartbreak got to do with you?" Anger crept into his tone. "If you hadn't thrown yourself at him, why would he bring you gifts? Elora, you can identify a dozen wood notes in one perfume. You can't read what it means when a man shows up at your shop with roses?"
My back hit the edge of the vanity.