Все главы Scented Lies: Глава 1 - Глава 5

Alana’s POV ‘Your scent still lingers, cruel and sweet, like promises you never kept.’I turn the worn-out note over, half expecting some dramatic signature that might explain the sender or the receiver. But it's blank on the other side. No signature. Nothing.I probably shouldn’t even be reading it, but how can I not?Initially, I went to the attic to look for an old journal of mine and then I got distracted with many other things here. I was in the mood for nostalgia.I found some of my things that I had totally forgotten about: my mom’s charm bracelet, my baby shoes and then a velvet box. A deep burgundy velvet box with a golden clasp. It looked like a mini treasure chest.Inside, were the letters.Not one. Dozens. Maybe more.All written on quality cream paper, now faded at the edges. Some lines were smudged like someone had cried when writing or reading them.I’ve read five so far, and I still couldn’t understand it. They were all written in a poetic way with perfume references.

Alana’s POVI should keep walking. One foot in front of the other.Yet the second my eyes meet his, I hesitate. Just long enough to make it obvious and attract a disapproving eye from my grandmother.I definitely didn’t expect to see that. Lucia did mention that there were two guests coming, but he is not what I expected.I thought I’d meet some arrogant heir with way too much gel in his hair and an even bigger ego. However, this man standing in Lucia’s dining area dressed in a sleek black suit and wearing a look of calculated boredom is not what I expected. At all.Tall. A chiseled jaw. Dark hair that falls just enough over his brow to look effortless. And those eyes; deep, cool and unreadable.He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t smirk.Just watches me like I’m some kind of puzzle he didn’t expect to find in this house. I force myself to move again, my hands tightening across the railing as I reach the last step.Lucia’s voice echoes. “There you are, meet Renald and his nephew, Rafael.”We ex

Rafael’s POV It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since the signing, and I’m already regretting agreeing to the damn press exposure.I hate these things. Charity galas, ribbon cuttings, fake smiles plastered on painted faces. All of them whispering about money and motives while pretending it’s all about the ‘greater good.’Tonight, it’s a black-tie benefit for some luxury housing project. Boring. Predictable. And now made worse by the fact that I have to show up hand-in-hand with a woman who looked like she’d rather jump off a bridge than marry me.Alana is quiet in the car, looking out the window like the city offends her. The silence between us feels heavy, stretched thin like a thread about to snap. I should say something. Maybe even try to make this easier. But I don’t. I just sit back and watch her profile under the dim lights.She’s wearing a silver satin dress tonight. It has a cowl neckline and high slit cut perfectly to her body. Her hair is swept up again, leaving her nec