Imposter Cologne Novels & Stories

My eyes widen. He’s standing all the way across the room, but as with every single workday, I can feel his commanding presence, taking up space, filling it, heating it. I can smell the faint tinge of his imported cologne—from the Oman region, no less—mixed with his innate virility. No, the latter shouldn’t have a scent associated with it. With this man, however… It naturally exudes from him. My heart is lodged in my throat so that I can’t pull in a steady stream of air.

Always sniffing my neck, always picking out new colognes, always complaining when one of his ran out. A saleswoman approached me. “Looking for something in particular?” “Yes,” I said. “Something bold, warm… masculine.” She smiled knowingly and led me to a shelf. When she picked up a black-and-gold bottle, I knew instantly. “Tom Ford Noir Extreme,” she said. “One of our best sellers.” I sprayed it on a test strip, lifted it to my nose, and smiled. “This is him,” I said softly. The saleswoman laughed. “Then it is the one.”

Air rushing in immediately but getting trapped just as fast as the door shut and the bastard himself occupied my space. His body cologne instantly filling the air; Oud wood, black amber, Smoked vanilla, and warm musk. Rich. Expensive. So fucking sinful and... very addictive. I inhaled a handful before realising what I was doing. Luckily, he was too busy scowling at me to notice. So I stood erect, shelving all stupid thoughts and facing the trouble in front of me. He for sure didn't come for peace. "What do you want?" "How dare you?"

She moved closer to Scarlett again, who backed up until she hit the counter. "Cologne," Sophie continued, her voice taking on the dreamy quality of someone lost in sensory memory. "Very expensive cologne. Something with bergamot and cedar, with base notes of sandalwood and just a whisper of tobacco. The kind of scent worn by men who understand that true luxury is in the details." Scarlett's face had gone from red to pale in the space of seconds.

There was not a single photo of him on the web, but Damian was not doubtful at all and accepted him into his team just like that. The imposter only had a basic knowledge of fragrances, so it was reasonable to trust that his products would not cause harm to anyone. However, no one understood why he added an illegal substance to his product this time around, which caused chaos to erupt. Recently, Tanner Corporation’s branch, which focused on the development of fragrances, had its license confiscated by the relevant authority. This was not just an internal affair of the company, so it was difficult for Joseph to protect Damian as this matter had blown up.

He advised him self while looking at his reflection in the mirror. He left the bathroom and dressed up in his navy blue suit which made him more charming better than those Louis Vuitton male models. As he was done dressing, he got his Dior home cologne to perfume his body, he remembered Rim telling him;l love this Gucci guilt black more on you. When it's mixed with your natural scent, it drives me crazy. He smiled and put Dior back and sprayed himself with Gucci. He left the bedroom.

"My family just got back from a seminar in France today and brought back a ton of souvenirs. I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I'd drop some off for your parents." As he got closer, Trista's sharp nose immediately picked up the scent of his cologne. It was a mix of cedar and crisp citrus—subtle, incredibly fresh, and smelled amazing. In her memory, he only ever smelled like warm sunlight and a faint, herbal medicinal scent. He never wore commercial cologne. "...Don't tell me he actually held a grudge over that time we were alone and I casually mentioned Fred's cologne smelled good, so he went out of his way to buy some?"

It meant the man on the floor looked exactly like Sebastian—at least to the naked eye. Mia also crouched and sniffed him. "The top, middle, and base notes of his cologne are identical. Nothing's been altered." She was certified in perfume authentication and was considered an expert in the field. "We've all met Sebastian before. Everyone's cologne leaves slightly different traces—subtle, but noticeable. But this smells exactly like him. There's no way it's wrong. "Alexia, are you sure you're not mistaken?" I shook my head firmly. "I'm not. He's not the real Sebastian."

I’ve had enough. On my way to open the bathroom door, I grab a different bottle of cologne. Something besides the Marco de Polo, I usually wear. Instead of the sporty, lemon zest, this cologne sweetens me, like a cinnamon-and-clove- infused bottle of bourbon. I spray under my shirt, then move to the back and sides of my neck, and finally my wrists. The minute I step outside the bathroom, Reid says, “Wow, done already?I thought for sure you’d need at least another hour.”