Chapter 8 - Weird Hobby

RACHEL

We were about to stand when my eyes caught Jeremy and Clara walking toward the restaurant. I froze on the spot, my eyes widening. My heart thumped hard against my chest, and my feet dug into the floor.

“Let’s—” Sebastian’s words stopped when he noticed my panic. He tilted his head, his eyes following my line of vision. “Do you know them?” he asked.

I couldn’t respond. “Let me quickly go to the restroom,” I told him, standing up and heading toward the restroom area. Thankfully, it was at the back, so I could easily disappear without them seeing me.

As soon as I got into the bathroom, I rested my hands against the sink and breathed out heavily. This seemed harder than I thought. I’d barely started the game, and I was already this stressed. I stood there for minutes, unsure whether to leave or not.

After what felt like an eternity, a waitress walked in. “Are you Ms. Rachel?” she asked, and I nodded, surprised that she knew my name.

My heart stuttered. Did Jeremy see me and ask her to call me over?

“A man is out there for you,” she added, causing my knees to weaken. Did he follow me to the bathroom? A sheen of sweat covered my forehead, and my face twisted uncomfortably.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” she asked.

“What?… Oh… No.” I shook my head, digging my nails into my hair. “I… I just… You said he’s outside, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I smiled. “Okay. I’ll come out soon.”

She left.

Another shaky breath escaped my lungs after she left. This was trouble. The Jeremy I knew wouldn’t take things lightly. He would make a scene and embarrass me. I stared at my reflection in the mirror one last time and strolled out, holding my breath.

My eyes landed on Sebastian the moment I stepped out, and I inhaled sharply, placing a palm against my heaving chest, almost stumbling because of my weakened legs.

“Oh my God! I thought it was somebody else,” I breathed heavily, still trying to steady myself.

Sebastian stepped forward and held my shoulders to steady me. “What? Did you think it was someone else?”

I nodded, swallowing hard. “The man I saw outside is my husband,” I explained to him. “And that woman beside him is the bitch he brought home.”

When he was sure I could stand on my own, he released my shoulders and tucked his hands into his pockets. “So why did you hide?”

“Because…” I raised my gaze, the situation finally coming together. I shouldn’t have run when the whole plan was to make Jeremy jealous. “You don’t know Jeremy. He could turn the whole restaurant upside down if he sees me with you.”

“And you don’t trust me to handle the situation better?” He took a step forward. “Is that why you ran?”

My lashes fluttered incessantly. My mouth parted, but I couldn’t form a logical response. Sebastian was right. I should have trusted him to handle the situation better than my husband.

“I…”

“Let’s go,” he said, cutting me off. “They’re already gone. They only came in to get food, not to eat here.”

“Oh!” I nodded. “So are—”

Before I could finish my statement, he had already turned and strolled outside, leaving me behind.

Oh shit! Sebastian was angry. He had every right to be. I was the one who initiated the fake relationship thing, and yet I was also the one who ran the moment I saw my husband. Why did I choose him as my partner if I couldn’t trust him?

Biting my bottom lip, I hurried after him, walking faster so I could keep up with his long strides.

When we got outside, he held the car door open for me. Slowly, I got in, too scared to look at his face. He entered from the other side, turned the key in the ignition, stepped on the accelerator, and zoomed off.

The drive to wherever he was taking me was silent… uncomfortably silent. He didn’t say a word, but his aura spoke loudly — cold, dangerous, and terrifying. I survived the tension only by pressing my nails into my skin.

After what felt impossible to endure, he pulled up at a gate, waited for a few seconds, and drove in as it opened.

“We’re here,” he announced, leaving the key in the ignition.

He stepped out of the car, and before I could open the door myself, he was already by my side, unlocking it. Guilt-stricken, I got out, still biting my lower lip. The atmosphere was awkward and strange. I knew I had done something wrong, but was it worth this silent treatment? We’d barely started our fake relationship.

My thoughts halted when I finally took in the environment. It was a huge, towering building with multiple floors, sleek and beautifully designed. I would have assumed it was his house, but the building looked more commercial than residential.

Suddenly, a cold sensation rushed through me as I felt a grip on my hand. When I glanced beside me, he was there, his fingers intertwined with mine. It was supposed to feel uncomfortable since this was our first skin-to-skin contact, but it didn’t. Instead, it felt like something my body had somehow grown accustomed to in his absence. My throat burned, and my face turned red as I took in our closeness.

“Let’s go, milady,” he said, his lips curling into a saccharine smile.

I grinned back and nodded.

We strode into the building and took the elevator to the eighteenth floor. As soon as we stepped out, I was welcomed by an intoxicating scent.

My steps slowed as I scrutinized the room. It was different from what I had expected. A long workbench stood at the center of the room. Crystal droppers, tiny vials of essential oils, and brass scales were arranged with surgical precision.

“Welcome to my private perfume room,” he announced, spreading his arms.

My eyes followed his gesture, and I almost gasped. “You have a private perfume room?”

“Yeah.” He walked to the bench, picked up an already filled perfume bottle, and came back to me. “This is how I maintain my sanity… formulating perfumes. I love scents.”

My eyes glittered with admiration. With how sturdy, stern, and cold Sebastian looked, nobody would have guessed he was into something like this, hence my long moment of astonishment.

“Come.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the workbench. “You can also create a custom-made perfume.” He pulled out a tall leather stool for me. “Tell me the kind of scents you love.”

“Something warm but light… like fresh linen and wildflowers, with a hint of something deeper.” I paused, resting a finger against my jaw. “Maybe vanilla and a touch of spice, so it feels like home… but also like an adventure.”

“Hmmm…” He nodded. “Excellent choices,” he commented, causing me to grin.

He set to work, his hands moving with practiced grace. He selected vials one by one — neroli for brightness, ylang-ylang for creamy floral sweetness, a drop of Madagascar vanilla absolute, a whisper of pink peppercorn for warmth, and finally a base of creamy sandalwood and soft musk to make it linger on the skin like a secret.

Watching him work so diligently on something felt different… and hotter. Just his side profile made me want to hold him.

Gosh. What silly thoughts was I having?

Then he lifted a blotter strip to my wrist, letting me inhale while he watched my reaction intensely. “Too sweet?” he asked, his thumb brushing a stray drop from my hand. “Or do you want something darker… more mysterious?”

His voice carried a teasing edge that made my cheeks flush warmer than the scent itself.

At one point, he leaned closer, his scent blending with the many fragrances in the room. My breath hitched, and my eyes widened, unblinking.

Then his nose grazed the curve of my neck.

“It smells like you laughing in the dark.”

My breath caught. The room suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier with possibility. I coughed briefly, trying to ease the inexplicable tension swirling within me and crawling up my throat.

He flashed a smile and leaned back, giving me space to breathe properly again. My chest rose and fell rapidly. The closer I got to Sebastian, the riskier the game became. Maybe he had a reason for asking those questions at the restaurant.

What if I fell in love with him?

I shut my eyes and opened them almost immediately.

What the fuck am I thinking about? Focus, Rachel. Focus.

He continued mixing the scents, and after another thirty minutes, the final formula was perfected. He decanted the golden liquid into a sleek, custom-cut crystal bottle with a heavy silver atomizer. Then he engraved a tiny plate at the base:

Her Smile

“Your custom-made perfume is ready,” he announced.

He took my wrist, sprayed a light mist onto the side of it, and said, “Tell me… is it what you envisioned?”

I leaned closer to the spot he had sprayed, and a sharp, homey, earthy scent wafted into my nostrils. I raised my head, astonished, and stared at him.

“You made this?”

“As you can see…” he mumbled.

I snickered. “Gosh! This is perfect.” My eyes brightened with admiration and satisfaction. “How did you learn this?”

“Didn’t learn it. It’s a hobby,” he responded.

“This is the best hobby, I must say,” I confessed.

He chuckled. “Did you like it that much?”

I nodded. “Mmm.”

He picked up the labeled bottle and handed it to me. “This is yours. And whenever you use it, remember you deserve a love that won’t steal your smile,” he said.

My body stiffened, my wrist hanging midair as I stared at him. The sincerity and concern in his eyes when he said those words sent waves crashing through me.

Then something dawned on me.

A heart would be shattered in this game.

But whose?