Novelas y relatos de Blushed Perfume

I had been in a secret relationship with my mafia boyfriend, Dante Castellano, for seven years. No public contact. No photos together. No proof I had ever stood by his side. He told me, "Once I'm powerful enough that no one dares touch you, I'll make it official." I believed him. The day before our seventh anniversary, I found a ten-carat diamond ring in his suit jacket. I cried with joy, thinking seven years of hiding were finally over. The next morning, I wore my most expensive dress and sprayed on the only perfume he had ever given me. I practiced my smile in the mirror, the one I would give when he proposed. Then, my phone lit up with a breaking news alert. [Breaking News: Seven-Year Love Story Reaches Perfect Ending—Romance Blogger Alessia Romano Accepts Boyfriend's 100th Proposal!] In the photo, the influencer with eight million followers stood on her tiptoes, kissing a man. His hand rested on the back of her neck. On that hand was a scar I would never mistake. It was the scar Dante got when he took a knife for me.

After years of struggling to survive, Akayda Jordan finally lands her dream job — personal assistant/secretary in one of the best companies in the whole of California. To celebrate her new beginning, she decides to give one last “performance” at the elite club she’s about to leave behind. One night. One masked encounter. One forbidden act. But fate twists cruelly. The man she had danced for in the dark turns out to be her new boss — Damian Knight. He’s engaged. She’s desperate to keep her secret buried. But when Damian starts sensing something achingly familiar about his new assistant — the scent of her perfume, the way she looks away when he stares too long — the walls between them begin to crack. But he was sure the girl with the big glasses was not the girl with the mask and firefly tattoo who had woken up a hunger in him. Soon, professionalism turns into tension. Tension turns into temptation. And the closer he gets to the truth, the more dangerous her secret becomes. Because if Damian ever discovers she’s the masked girl he’s been searching for… she might lose not just her job, but her heart.

The healer told me I had Soul Decay Syndrome. In three days, I'd be dead. The only thing that could save me was water from the Sacred Spring. But my Alpha mate, Vincent, gave it to my adopted sister, Fiona. So, during the final 72 hours of my life, I gave up everything. When I handed Fiona the perfume formulas I'd spent years developing, my parents smiled in satisfaction. When I gave up the couples' vacation package I'd won and let Vincent take Fiona to see the Northern Lights instead, he praised me for finally being mature. When I taught my daughter to call Fiona "Mom", she didn't hesitate. She turned to me without a second thought and called me "Aunt." To my family, all my sacrifices were only natural. "Fiona is a frail human. Her lifespan is much shorter." "We'll love you properly later. We'll make it up to you." I let out a mocking laugh. There was no later for me. I'd never live long enough to receive their love. And after I died, they lost their minds with regret.

I’m Vicky Eaton, a bondless Kindred. Meaning, I don’t have a Blood Bond mate--the only human you can drink from according to the Kindred law. I’ve done my best to stick to the rule, until I realized that my new boss just smells too darn delicious for me to resist and fits every criteria to be my mate. However, I have made a vow long ago to stay bondless for eternity.**As he spoke, he licked my ear. My heart began to race again. The aroma of his Blood Perfume mixed with his natural body fragrance, stimulated my every nerve. He kissed my neck. I groaned against his touch as he removed my clothing for the third time in under 12 hours."Whatever you do…” I said breathlessly, “Don’t stop.” My words hit him hard and his moves intensified. Suddenly, he broke apart and turned his neck to me, revealing his glorious skin. I froze. Should I stay true to my past, or do I take a leap of faith and fall into the world of the Blood Bond?

I took time off work and flew out to be my best friend's maid of honor. The moment my plane landed, she picked me up and took me straight to the hotel. Not long after we got to the room, she handed me a shopping bag. Inside was the newest phone on the market, a bottle of luxury perfume, and a check for ten thousand dollars. She said with a bright, excited smile, "It's your bridesmaid gift. Even if I'm getting married, you're still the most important person in my life." My eyes filled with tears right there. The next morning, I woke up before sunrise. I put on my bridesmaid dress and went to find her. She was sitting in front of the vanity mirror. Stylists were moving around her, busy with her hair and makeup. When she saw me, she turned with a huge smile and waved me over, her face glowing with excitement. But the moment I stepped closer, her expression changed. It was like she had just seen something disgusting. "Get out." Her voice was low, but the disgust in it was clear. "Disappear from my sight. Right now." I froze where I stood.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

Born into a blended family, Chantelle grew up on the sidelines, raised with love by her grandmother after her mother's death. Shut out by her father Gérard, dominated by his new wife Rhonda, and relegated to the background behind her pretentious stepsister Mégane, she learned to survive in silence. When her grandmother is diagnosed with a terminal illness, Chantelle's world crumbles. With no family support and overwhelmed by medical bills, she accepts a desperate proposition: one hundred nights for one million euros, with a wealthy man whose identity she will never know. The rules are simple. A blindfold over her eyes, a stranger's touch, and silence. He never speaks. She never sees. He leaves her with anonymous bank transfers... and the haunting scent of his perfume as her only memory. Twelve nights pass. Then, forced by her father to attend a family dinner, Chantelle comes face to face with Mégane's fiancé: Collen Wilkerson—the cold, unapproachable CEO of the powerful corporation where she works as a simple employee. He is a man she knows only from a distance. Arrogant. Untouchable. But when he steps closer, a familiar scent wraps around her, and the world stops. It's his perfume. The same as the masked man. She has already spent twelve nights in his arms. And there are still eighty-eight to go.

"I'm sorry." He apologized, "Too late get out" I glared but he doesn't budge, he proved to be stubborn and the mere sight of him, irked me. Slowly it made my limbs weak and it slowly made it all the way suffocating. "No," he pushed me against the wall, my back pressed firmly against it, his grip firm on my upper arm. My face blushed red, unsure how to react, yet I yelled, "You're breaking a rule! Don't fucking touch me." "Fuck the rules, you already broke it when you wore this dress." My heart plummeted, a heavy thud echoing in my chest, as the weight of his last words settled upon me like a leaden anchor "Well Fuck off, I don't want you, Tristan Donovan." I spat bitterly, all he did was smirk deviously, dangerously closing the bridge between our lips. "Fuck it Willow, I want you." He said as he crashed his lips against mine Willow Davis finds herself wedge in between one of her father's gamble, having lost the bet she is sold to the ruthless arrogant billionaire, Tristan Donovan, who wants nothing more than to make out a trophy of her. over the course of time they slowly get close but fear of falling in love Tristan has set three rules; "NO STAYING IN CONFINED OR CLOSED PLACES TOGETHER NO ANY FORM OF PHYSICAL CONTACT NO FALLING IN LOVE" But what happens when he's caught up in his own web and breaks one or all together? How far will he go, riding of every single rule? Will the arrogant billionaire finally fall in love? find out in SOLD TO THE ARROGANT BILLIONAIRE.

The night before my wedding, I found out I was pregnant. That same night, I found out my fiancé had already chosen another woman to give him his first child. Adrian DeLuca, heir to a mafia empire and the man who once swore I was the only woman he would ever love, came home carrying her perfume on his clothes and told me, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world, that it was only a medical arrangement. His dead friend’s widow needed an heir, and after I had failed to give him one through sixty-six rounds of IVF, he had decided this was the best solution for everyone. I said nothing. I let him go on preparing the wedding. I let him believe I would still walk down the aisle and become Mrs. DeLuca. But while he was planning our ceremony, I was planning my disappearance. On our wedding day, the estate would still open its doors. The guests would still arrive. The ceremony would still begin. But the bride Adrian DeLuca betrayed would die there. By the time he learned the truth, that I had been carrying his child all along, I would already be gone under a new name, taking his heir somewhere he could never reach.

For one year, I believed Matteo De Luca had truly fallen in love with me. Our marriage began as an alliance, but he held me every night, kissed me before council meetings, and fastened the De Luca Donna brooch at my throat as if I already belonged beside him. Then his first love, Vanessa Ashford, came back. Within days, our official ceremony was postponed, her access was added to the Donna wing, and Matteo stopped wearing the family signet he once used to claim me in public. He said it was council business. But council business did not leave amber perfume on his skin. It did not sit beside him on a private jet to Palm Beach. And it certainly did not smile from the Donna’s chair while his friends watched me lose my place. The final humiliation came at a private dinner, when someone asked whether I was Matteo’s wife. He looked at me, then said calmly, “Elena and I have an arrangement.” That night, I stopped waiting to be chosen. Matteo could keep his first love, his title, and the home he let her enter. I packed my passport, my Florence contract, and the prenatal report he had never seen. Then I left New York with his child.