"Get dressed," Serena ordered. "We're going to dinner. Le Ciel. I won't take no for an answer."
"I can't," Giselle said. "He's out there."
"He's in a hospital bed," Serena countered. "And besides, I have a lead on that Cordyceps Sinensis you need for the neuro-regen prototype. The supplier is meeting me tonight."
That got her attention. The medicine she was developing needed that herb. It was the key to curing... well, curing people like Joseph.
"Fine," she sighed.
Two hours later, Giselle walked into Le Ciel. She wasn't wearing Dr. Mandy's white coat or Giselle's rags. She was wearing a backless crimson gown that clung to every curve, her hair cascading in loose waves. She wore diamonds that made her old engagement ring look like a toy.
Serena waved from a VIP booth. "Damn, girl. You look like you're ready to kill someone."
"Just ready to do business," Giselle said, sliding into the booth.
We ordered wine and appetizers. Serena chattered about the supplier, a mysterious collector who hung out at a private club called The Vault.
"Don't look now," Serena suddenly froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. "But the devil just walked in."
Giselle's blood ran cold. She slowly turned her head, looking through the one-way glass partition of their booth.
A black Maybach had pulled up to the curb. The valet opened the door.
Joseph stepped out. He looked pale, but devastatingly handsome in a charcoal suit.
And holding onto his arm, looking like she had glued herself to him, was Clydie Woods.
She was laughing, throwing her head back, touching his chest. Joseph didn't smile. He looked annoyed, but he didn't push her away.
"I thought Jamin said he kicked her out," Giselle whispered, gripping the stem of her wine glass so hard she thought it would snap.
"Men lie," Serena spat. "Look at them. The happy couple."
The sight of them together-the woman who stole her life and the man who gave it to her-burned a hole in Giselle's stomach.
"I can't be here," she said, standing up. "If he sees me..."
"He won't," Serena said. "But let's go. The club is safer. It's a masquerade night."
We threw cash on the table and hurried toward the kitchen exit.
As they slipped out the back, Joseph walked into the restaurant foyer. He stopped abruptly.
"Joseph?" Clydie purred, tugging his arm. "What's wrong?"
Joseph ignored her. He lifted his head, inhaling deeply.
A scent. Subtle. Rare. Vanilla and wild orchid.
It was a custom perfume. He had commissioned it for Giselle seven years ago. The perfumer had destroyed the formula. No one else had it.
"Do you smell that?" he asked Kieran.
"Smell what, Sir? The garlic butter?"
Joseph shook his head. He was losing his mind. First the voice, now the scent. She was haunting him.
"Let's go," he said abruptly, turning back to the door.
"But our reservation!" Clydie whined.
"Cancel it," Joseph snapped. "I'm going to The Vault. I need that herb for the headaches. You can go home."
Clydie stomped her foot, but Joseph was already walking away, following the ghost of a scent he couldn't forget.
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