Perfume: The Book Review Novels & Stories

Or maybe that was his own pulse finally spiking. He leaned closer, close enough to smell her perfume. Different now, something floral and innocent that made him want to corrupt it with his touch. "How have you been, my runaway bride?" The words were barely a whisper, but they made her gasp like he'd shouted them. Her gaze darted frantically around the bookstore. Looking for escape routes, for help, for her father's watchdogs who thought they were protecting her from shadows when the real danger wore expensive Gucci leather jacket and smiled like sin.

That feeling could be bottled and sold. As we turned toward each other, I could smell her perfume. She smelled like silken roses. I could taste it in my mind, as I had so many times before. In the months prior when we would be working together, she’d lean over me, and that scent would infect me. It was some high-priced perfume, to be sure. It was one of those aromas that confused your sense of scent with taste, being with doing. I loved its sweet aroma coupled with her delicate perspiration lingering in the evening air.

But his jaw kept locking like a trap, and his knuckles had gone white where they gripped the polished edge of the wooden bench behind him, leather gloves creaking with the strain. A swirl of scent broke through the court's careful quiet—a layered bouquet of rose oil and ground coffee beans, damp stone and nervous musk. Familiar. Heavy. The kind of fragrance worn to disguise anxiety, served to smooth frayed nerves, tracked in from rain-slick courtyards on muddy boots. It pressed against his senses like fingers against old wounds, awakening things better left sleeping. Parsul again. Just for a heartbeat. Her perfume lingering in empty rooms. Storm clouds gathering in her eyes the last time—

I took one of the romantic books I had brought before coming to Canada, it was the perfect time to start reading one now. There were many toiletries on the counter for me to use, I uncapped a few and sniffed. They were very strong and heavy as per my liking I always got a headache with such strong perfumes, only one was left so I opened that too and to my surprise, it was very mild and light. Liked the sweet, faint fragrance of flowers. I decided to use that and I undressed myself and got into the hot water.

[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?"

Claire's POV I stood there for minutes replaying every word Liliana said. Her voice kept echoing in my head. My shoulders slowly straightened. My chest expanded. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I adjusted my gown, smoothing down the fabric with both hands. Reached into my bag and pulled out the perfume bottle. Sprayed it around my neck, behind my ears, on my wrists. The mist settled on my skin. This was one of Mom's most rated perfumes. The fragrance hit the air like a wave. Every head in the penthouse turned. Conversations died mid-sentence. Bodies shifted toward me.

After a while, she spotted a classic title—but it was on a high shelf. Balancing several books in her arms, she rose on tiptoe to reach it. No luck. She sighed, putting the books down to think of another way. Then, suddenly, a tall figure appeared behind her. A hand reached up easily and plucked the book from the shelf. Before she could turn around, his voice came, low and close. “Since when do you wear perfume?” He was standing right behind her, so close that his breath brushed her ear. The heat of him wrapped around her like smoke, his scent rich and intoxicating.

Alessia’s POV I couldn’t stop staring at the bottle. It sat there on the vanity, gleaming like it knew exactly how much trouble it had caused me. Velour d’Ombre. The one perfume I swore I wouldn’t touch again. And yet, here it was, taunting me like a ghost from my past. It was a ghost though. I sighed, propping my chin on my hand. “You really had to smell this good, huh?” The silence didn’t answer. And, just like that, the memory around this perfume seemed to be coming back together in my head.

It created a sound as if someone opened it with force. Light shone through my eyelids, making me shut my eyes tight. Shit. Out of the blue, I felt myself being lifted in the air, making me open my eyes. Alpha Shawn's side profile was the first thing that greeted me. As I inhaled deeply, I found myself completely immersed in the captivating scent of his perfume. It was a fragrance that exuded an intoxicating blend of masculinity and allure. With each breath, I felt a wave of sensations wash over me as if I was transported to a world of desire and intrigue.

Besides books, there are many other miscellaneous items placed on them. In the middle of the room, there is a set of black leather chairs and a table. Since Ciara used to work at a furniture store, she can tell that they are definitely not cheap. However, the owner of this room does not seem to care much about them, as there are clothes thrown haphazardly all over them, there are also books that have been read and are lying on the ground. The owner of this room is a very messy person.