Repressed desire

"Ha, ha, ha. Who would believe that you and I are lovers?" the man questions incredulously.

"Not even in my dreams could I be interested in someone like you. You're so plain it hurts my eyes just to look at you. Besides, how could I trust the woman behind every one of my failures?"

"Nathan!!" his chauffeur shouts.

"No 'Nathan'—just look at her. She's so unkempt and insignificant, it's unbelievable that she's Lefebvre’s wife. Now I understand why he's been cheating on her for so many years."

"I-I know my appearance isn't the best, but it’s the only way I could think of to humiliate Oliver," I murmur, enduring his insults.

"And what do you mean I’m behind your misfortunes?"

"Your lab is always a strong competitor for us. Stealing our products—that’s something you're great at."

"My lab?"

"Yes, your lab. Everyone knows that ParfumLab belongs to you and that you're the sole owner."

"T-that's not true. My parents' lab went bankrupt."

"Do you think your pathetic crying will convince me otherwise? Everyone knows that Lefebvre’s wife owns that lab—the most coveted in the market for its top formulas."

"That's not true. My lab went bankrupt over six years ago," I insist, shaking my head. "Oliver told me… he… he couldn’t have lied to me…" I sob, covering my mouth as I realize he really did lie.

The lab my parents cherished never went bankrupt—instead, Oliver deceived me and took it from me.

"Here’s the proof, ma’am, that my boss isn’t lying. That lab is pretty famous," the chauffeur murmurs, holding out his phone to show me the latest news.

With a slight tremble, I take it. When reality hits me, I start crying again.

How could I have been so stupid to blindly believe everything Oliver told me?

Now, because of that, I have nothing. I’ve lost everything.

"Earlier, you said my husband has been cheating on me for several years. How do you know that?" I ask, though I don’t really want to hear the answer. I know that once he tells me the truth, it will destroy me.

The man looks at me with disgust, then sighs in irritation before deciding to speak.

"Because it’s no secret that Oliver and his assistant have been lovers for a little over nine years."

When I hear this, I let out a scream and hit my leg in an attempt to relieve the pain that floods my entire body with the weight of that truth.

"Don’t do that, ma’am. You’ll hurt yourself," the chauffeur says gently.

"Have some water, you need it," he offers, handing me a small bottle. Once I calm down a bit, I accept it.

"H-how did you find out about that?"

"How could I not? Don’t you read the news or the gossip online? Or have you been living under a rock?" he asks incredulously.

"I-I… I don’t have a phone. Since I married Oliver, he decided there was no need for me to have something so useless," I mutter, ashamed.

As soon as I say this, both men nearly choke, but they cover it with light coughs to hide their surprise.

"I wouldn't expect anything less from that bastard Lefebvre," mocks the blue-eyed man, shaking his head.

He stares at me for a moment, and due to the intensity of his gaze, I lower my face, deeply embarrassed before this stranger who has just told me more truths than my husband has in our eight years of marriage.

"You said if I helped you separate from your husband, you'd give me the traitor’s name and formulas for new perfumes..."

"I’ve decided to change my conditions. I’ll give you what I promised, but in return, I want something else."

"For hell's sake!! I’m sick of your damn cheap games!" he hisses, grabbing my arms and shaking me so violently that our faces end up mere inches apart.

"I assure you it’s worth it. We both win."

"Nathan!!" his chauffeur intervenes when he realizes his boss isn’t letting go of me.

"What do you want?" he demands, gripping me tighter until I let out a cry of pain.

"Were you raised by jungle monkeys? Let her go!"

Thanks to the chauffeur squeezing his hand, Nathan lets me go, and I can only rub my arm as I carefully consider what I’m about to ask.

"I still want you to pretend to be my lover. It doesn’t matter how long you say we’ve known each other. I also want your help with my divorce. But I also want to propose that we get married—for one or two years…"

"Did hearing about your husband’s infidelity give you a brain aneurysm or something? Are you seriously asking me that?" the man shouts, clenching his hand into a fist and glaring at me with hatred.

"A moment ago, I remembered a news report I saw on TV about you. It said your mother…"

"Stepmother," he growls, moving closer again, but his chauffeur blocks him before he can shake me like a rag doll again.

"It said she was worried that at your age, you still hadn’t married," I continue as if he hadn’t interrupted me, "and it also mentioned that it might be because of your relationship… with your chauffeur," I murmur when I feel both their eyes on me. "If you’re gay, I assure you I won’t interfere. I couldn’t care less."

Immediately, the chauffeur bursts out laughing in the small space, and I watch with slight fear as he nearly dies laughing.

"Stop laughing like an idiot," his boss threatens. "I don’t see what’s so funny about what this woman just said."

"Well, I do. Finally, someone noticed the suppressed desire I feel for you. I thought I’d have to hide it forever, but now that she and the rest know, I don’t care anymore," he replies, winking and earning a smack on the arm.

"Do you really think I’m gay? You know what? I don’t care what you think—especially not someone as ugly as you."

"Damn it, Nathan! Control yourself!"

"Like I said, I don’t care if you’re with him or anyone else. I’m not interested in you as a man," I say again. The chauffeur bursts out laughing, wiping tears from his eyes. "I’m only proposing this marriage so your stepmother will stop worrying about your sexual orientation and to shut up all those people who talk."

"And about the perfume formulas—you have my word that I’ll give you as many as I can so you can destroy Oliver," I declare coldly.

"And how do I know you won’t marry me just to later claim you’re pregnant with my child and take over my company, then run back to your husband?"

"You don’t need to worry about that. Like I said, I’m not interested in you as a man, and more importantly, we won’t have any children. Our marriage will be strictly business. No feelings. Nothing like that."

"Why should I trust your word…?"

"Nathan, don’t push it," his chauffeur interrupts with a serious tone, shaking his head slowly. I guess he understands perfectly what I’m trying to say—that it’s impossible for me to have children because I’m sterile.

"Fine," he grumbles, "but what intrigues me now is why you changed your mind. Instead of just pretending to be lovers, you also want to marry me? You say it’s so I can silence the rumors about my sexuality, but honestly, that shouldn’t matter to you since we’re not close. What do you gain from marrying me?"

"It’s very simple. Today I found out that Oliver and his lover are expecting a baby, and that during the company’s anniversary event, he plans to ask me for a divorce and announce her pregnancy. I think the best revenge I can take is to make him believe I also cheated—and that I’ve fallen in love with someone else. And who better than you, his number one enemy?" I confess the plan I began forming after learning how many years Oliver had been deceiving me.

"Besides, by marrying you, I’ll have enough power to destroy my husband and reclaim my parents' lab. And even if I fail, I’ll be satisfied just seeing him lose everything he cares about—including that lab."

"Do you have a pen and paper?" I ask, shifting my gaze between both men before they can continue questioning my motives.

"Here. What do you need it for?" the chauffeur asks.

"To prove that I’m not trying to trick or mock you," I say, taking what he hands me and quickly writing down some components of the new perfume formula I was going to present to Oliver today.

"What’s this?" the blue-eyed man asks, taking the paper.

"That’s half a formula for a new product I was about to deliver to my husband," I say with difficulty. Just mentioning our relationship burns my tongue. "If you accept my deal, I’ll give you the rest. And even if your chemists try to analyze it, I assure you they’ll struggle to find an ingredient that combines perfectly with those." I add quickly, seeing a glint of greed in his eyes.

"And if I don’t accept your deal?"

"Then I’ll let Oliver humiliate me that day. But afterward, I’ll find another high-end perfumery—even if it’s in another country—and I’ll destroy both him and you. Because the perfumes I make are the reason Mon Parfum Lefebvre is the best in France. And you’ll have missed your chance to take revenge on him."

"If you accept my deal, meet me here in three days. If you don’t show, I’ll know I have to handle Oliver on my own," I declare with a courage I’ve never felt before—but that I’m forcing myself to draw on after everything I’ve endured in just a few hours.

I open the car door and step out without looking back, walking in the opposite direction of the man who could either be my salvation—or just a fleeting stranger from whom I’ll never get the help I so desperately need.