Arrogant Perfume Novels & Stories

[note to QI: above line says perfume too, so I kept this neutral/vague by changing to liquid] She then glared at me and asked, "Did you tamper with the perfume, Helena?" I shrugged my shoulders, looking completely innocent. "What on earth are you talking about? Why don't I understand what you're getting at, Queenie? Is it possible that your perfume has simply gone bad?" Queenie asked through gritted teeth, "Didn't you realize that the person who uses this perfume can't actually smell it? How did the perfume I gave you end up on my vanity, Helena?"

Her perfume—heavy, cloying—hung thick in the air. She raised a hand and traced her fingers across my forehead, tilting her body forward so that the neckline of her black dress plunged deeper, exposing what she thought would disarm me. “I won’t do that anymore, hmm?” Her voice turned low, almost coaxing. Her fingers slid down my face, and she cradled my chin, tugging me toward her. “I caused this, I know. I caused this anger, and that’s why you won’t look at me anymore.”

she said, putting her hand to her chest dramatically as she saw Olivia and I already flipping through the catalogs. “You’re being dramatic, you know that right?” “What’s life without a little drama? Now shall we begin?” “Yep,” I said, getting a corkscrew to open the bottle of wine. “Frost,” she read the names of the perfumes one after the other. “Two thousand dollars, hmmph,” she scoffed. “What’s that?” I asked, pouring the wine into three glasses. “It’s cheap, it looks like it’ll smell cheap,” she shrugged and turned over to the next page

The guards saw me the second I walked in. Their posture tightened, shoulders straightening, eyes dropping just enough to show recognition without a single word leaving their mouths. No greetings. No nods. Only the automatic discipline that came when someone they could not ignore stepped into their space. I kept walking. Marcello Massimo’s place never needed to announce itself. Everything in it already had weight. Expensive in a way that didn’t seek attention. Old money folded into modern arrogance, a house built on the kind of confidence that didn’t ask to be respected because it already was.

"...that in these 30 years of being your husband, I can feel how you melt with my touch. And take note, I've always caught you drooling over this body." "Oh, goodness!" I couldn't help rolling my eyes. I already imagined him saying those things...again! Well, he always does and let me tell you, that's his favorite dialogue. I bit my lip to stifle my laugh. If there's one thing that hasn't changed in him, it's his being so arrogant that he turned out to be a narcissist over time. "Come on, Sophia Kelley, don't deny it. I know how you always wanted to touch me and if I didn't know, you just always restrained yourself because you're afraid that the kids might be caught you."

I looked down at her, toying with a small perfume bottle. "Clara, didn't you always want a unique scent?" I smiled, sprinkling the liquid from the bottle onto her. "I'll grant your wish." Instantly, an indescribable stench rose from Clara. It wasn't just a bad smell; it was a mix of rot and plague, a scent designed to trigger a werewolf's most primal disgust. "I call it 'Despair.' A bespoke fragrance, just for you," I said, my voice sweet as poison.

Rose hated being bossed around. Unfortunately, she worked for the most arrogant boss in the entire company. The company she worked for was one of the biggest firms in the city, known for handling important international projects. It was the kind of place where everyone moved quickly, spoke carefully, and tried their best not to make mistakes. Because mistakes rarely went unnoticed. Especially by Jason Carter. A few days earlier, the company had received a major industry award. To celebrate the achievement and discuss upcoming projects, the management team had gathered in one of the executive conference rooms for a meeting.

Then — traitorously — I inhale. Deep. Slow. Shameless. Homme Sport. Dior. I may or may not have bought an entire bottle. And I may or may not occasionally mist Pan with it. Not just because of him — obviously — but because it is, objectively, one of the greatest smells ever created by mankind. Fresh and raw. Clean but dangerous. Like lemon and bergamot had a one-night stand with confidence and bad intentions. It’s crisp. Cool. Masculine in a way that feels unfair. Smooth, animalistic, addictive.

I tried to sit up to understand where this smell was coming from, but as I did, I turned my face towards Perseus and noticed something very different about him. His smell had changed, and now it's like a living forest under the dominion of a god: intense notes of wild pine, apple tree, and pines mixed with aged leather, marked by wars and time. A scorching heat emanates from him, like the blazing sun at noon, the touch of Hélios, his latent fury ready to awaken. There's also warm amber, oak moss. I see him as wild, noble, and untamable, his aroma commanding respect and fear even before his presence is noticed.

My leg hit a stone and I wobble slightly, scared that my bags were going to fall but they didn't, thankfully. "May I help you with your luggage, miss?" A rich baritone voice asked and I almost gasped. The new neighbor, most likely. I had to mentally stop myself from gasping at how the voice flowed through my veins. That voice… so fucking sexy… And familiar? The smell of his perfume wafted into my nose and I instantly recognized the expensive scent, one of the most expensive perfumes I knew for men. Rich, got a sexy voice, I wonder if he was tall too. If he is, then I wonder if he would come upstairs and talk about global warming on a bottle of wine. My new neighbor could be sexy