The Perfume Collector Synopsis Novels & Stories

Asides from the fact that he’s a mafia don and my captor, he looks like a walking muscle of trauma. “Sensai 33?” the man asks out of nowhere, sniffing the air. “Yes?” I blink, surprised that someone knows the brand of my perfume. He hums in approval. “Good taste.” “Really?” “Yup. A solid choice. Sandalwood, cedar, a little leather. Classic.” He crosses his arms.

She leans back, her lips pulled in a wide smile, “you like it?” “I love it. You smell delicious.” “I smell expensive too, don’t I? It’s the Tom Ford Tobacco Vanille.” “Where did you get it?” I ask, slowly rising from the bed. Chiara flicks an invisible speck of dust off her robe. “It’s on the house. Harlan has an impressive perfume collection in the guest room.” I open my mouth to speak but she beats me to it, grabbing my arm and urging me towards the bathroom, “Come now, freshen up, I have wonderful news for you.”

Then she sniffed the air, her nostrils flared up, then her eyes widened as they stabbed mine. “That perfume. Is that from you?” I sniffed the air myself, faking a confused frown. “Perfume? I don’t smell anything special. Just my new soap.” She took a step closer, her eyes boring into mine. “Don’t lie to me, Charlotte. That is an expensive female perfume from SayBosslady. Where did you get it?”

Seeing her fall silent, he bent over and looked into her eyes. His voice was low and slightly hoarse. “So, got anything?” Rachel snapped back to attention at his words. “Yeah. Let’s get her perfume. I think a woman like her would already have plenty of jewelry.” “Whatever you say. Let’s grab some perfume.” Tyler and Rachel stepped into the perfume shop. The saleslady in the shop surveyed Tyler from head to toe and knew at once that he was no ordinary man. She welcomed him enthusiastically, “Sir, madam, how may I help you? Our perfume collections are all very well-known. Everyone who buys a bottle comes back for more.”

By the end of the call Mercer's position had shifted and the shift was quiet and dignified and nobody's face had to be lost in the process and the board vote that had been called for Friday was going to be quietly withdrawn before noon. He hung up. Sat back. Looked at the kitchen doorway. She was at the counter with her coffee and her back to him, looking at the city beyond the window, and he looked at her and thought about I pay attention to people. The way they move in groups. Who follows who and why. He thought about psychographic profiling. About a paper titled Engineered Olfactory Compounds and Their Application in Targeted Neurological Fixation. About a woman who had studied his psycho

Vivienne pushes the warm glass deeper inside me, twisting it slowly so I feel every inch. I am still shaking from the previous orgasm, my thighs slick, my mind spinning. The stretch is so intense that I let out a broken moan. “Easy, chérie,” she whispers, holding my stomach to keep me steady. “This collector is designed to reach the places your boyfriend never bothers with. Breathe through it. Let it open you.” I grip the edges of the bench, legs spread wide like some kind of offering. The glass is smooth but thick, and every little movement sends sparks up my spine. Vivienne watches my face the entire time, studying me like I am the most fascinating formula she has ever worked on.

All she knew was that she was distraught, but it didn’t strike her as anger—it was all despair as if everything she endured was for nothing. She walked to the side and decided to leave the room. There were no real strangers in the yacht; perhaps, she was safe to stay in the company of the bartender for tonight. Staying with the man who decided not to speak tonight was too painful for her. It’s just that she picked up the perfume that she had been using ever since she had gone to Gryphon’s arms. It was a discontinued scent series that Gryphon kept in that strange shrine he had in his study. Even until now, he was working on getting the rights to reproduce the scent through another company und

Before even reaching him, I would have to slip past the formidable security of Caden’s men. The mere thought of facing someone so cunning set my heart racing. To seduce Caden was to step into the lion’s den, to play with fire, to dance on the edge of a blade. Yet, the stakes were too high to ignore. If this plan succeeded, it would secure Geisterfell’s dominance over the great continent. I took the perfume bottle that was in the box, opened the lid, and whiffed the sweet fruit-ish scent. I think I recognize the scent, a face appeared in my mind. The perfume reminded me of that omega maid. Yet… it was more… bolder?

She looked up to find Maria, her maid entering. "Miss Elena, I've come to help you dress. The party will be starting soon." "Thanks, Maria, I 'd love your help." Maria glided across the room, her footsteps quiet on the plush carpet. She reached the wardrobe and grasped the handle, pulling out a packaged box adorned with the elegant script: "Elena Wellington." She placed the box on the bed and began opening it softly. With admiration, Maria lifted out a gown. The fabric was a masterful blend of velvet and sequence.

She knew he was involved in some shady business, but how expensive was this shady business. Gwen shouldered her duffle bag as she took a deep breath beyond the front door. Opening it, the scent of a burning cigar hit her in the face. Completely unfazed, she walked in the house, but Puckett reeled back and coughed, aggressively fanning in front of his face.