Chapter 132

His fingers brushed against hers as he lifted her hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the back of it.

The audience erupted into thunderous applause.

Vanessa snatched her hand away the moment his lips left her skin. To everyone else, it had been nothing more than a chivalrous gesture—Lucien Dubois paying homage to a fellow perfumer. But she had felt it. The fleeting, deliberate swipe of his tongue against her skin before he released her.

The spot burned.

It tingled like the rough lick of a cat’s tongue, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. Her pulse stuttered, betraying her.

Vanessa ducked her head, cheeks flushing crimson. She forced a demure smile, playing the part of a woman overwhelmed by praise.

Only Evelyn Carter saw through it.

From her seat near the back, Evelyn’s sharp gaze narrowed. She was too far to catch the exact moment, but Vanessa’s reaction wasn’t from mere flattery. Vanessa Blake didn’t blush at compliments—she thrived on them.

Something else had happened.

On stage, the host beamed at the pair. “What a remarkable display of mutual admiration! Mr. Dubois and Ms. Blake clearly share a rare creative kinship. Tonight’s event proves that our local talent rivals even the most esteemed international perfumers. Together, we’ll lead this industry into a dazzling new era!”

Evelyn nudged Victoria beside her. “We’re leaving.”

Victoria frowned, still staring at the stage. “Don’t you think it’s weird? They’re acting like strangers.”

Evelyn followed her gaze. Lucien and Vanessa now stood a careful distance apart, their body language stiff, their smiles polite. Strangers.

But they weren’t.

“We saw them together on the flight here,” Victoria muttered, crossing her arms. “Now suddenly, they’re all formal? Please. That man’s no legendary perfumer—just another fraud propping her up.”

Evelyn’s lips curved. Interesting.

Vanessa had arrived without Dominic. And now, she and Lucien were pretending they’d never met.

A calculated performance.

Evelyn rose, smoothing her dress. “Let’s go. We’ve got sightseeing tomorrow.”

As she turned toward the exit, something nagged at her. She glanced back at the stage.

Empty.

Just abandoned tables and the lingering scent of deceit.