Page 74 of Scent of Desire
Lily Bellerose, the new perfumer you need to know.
Obsession, the perfume of Love.
How did she do it? The girl that revolutionized perfumery!
Obsession, the perfume that stole the spotlight from the giant Carmin!
Iscrolled through the various headlines about my perfume and me, a huge beaming smile on my face. I hopped in place inside my little Parisian boutique, letting my joy run along with all my heart. The launch was a success, and I wouldn’t stop until I created a myth around it. All the articles praised Obsession—it was a scent everyone wanted to smell, and people started asking questions about when the men’s perfume would be out. A part of me was anxious about it, my inspiration lacking since Radcliff’s departure.
I contemplated my accomplishment. The perfume bottles were stacked on beige shelves in the light of the crystal candlestick. I had put a touch of golden pink on the walls, with ivy and lilies of the valley climbing up on them. My name written in gold was visible from the street, thanks to the huge windows that formed an arch. The second step would be to launch the store in Grasse and compete with Carmin and its huge storefront.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Lily.” Patrick waved at me, the bell chiming as he exited the store.
“Tell your family I say hi.” I grabbed my keys, and I continued to put the Flower Queen shop in order.
I had hired Patrick to work in my boutique—after all, he loved the spotlight. Me, on the contrary, I did not flourish as much as I thought. I had no more time to create—and worse, no desire to—perhaps because Radcliff occupied all of my thoughts, and life seemed colorless without him.
I closed the shop, and on the road to visit my uncle, I stopped at the florist to buy him a bouquet of lilies, daisies, and hyacinth to revive the smell of his apartment and brighten it. Today was the final step; all I needed was my uncle’s complete testimony to have No. 27 back from Carmin. We’d been working with a lawyer referred by Hugo—needless to say, it was one of the sinners who’d worked for Radcliff.
I rushed through all five floors, being careful to not get my feet caught on the red carpet. I didn’t want to hold grudges with Eugene. I chose love over hatred and believed he could better himself. No one was able to change, but we could all grow. Holding the bouquet tight to my heart, I stooped to pick up the key under the doormat.
I wrenched open the door and stepped inside. “Uncle, it’s me! I bought you—”
I froze in place.
The bouquet crashed to the ground.
The rotten smell of corpses, of nightmares and tragedy, wafted up my nostrils.
A muffled buzz echoed in my ears.
I screamed with all the air in my lungs, writhing in pain. I broke into tears, my body ripping apart. My hands shook as I slumped against the door, powerless in front of the horror show.
My uncle was hanged in the middle of his living room.
A rope was tightened around his neck, his head bowing under the hardness of the grip. A chair was overturned on the floor, and his feet hung in the void. Uncle couldn’t have killed himself.No. No. No.My tears were unstoppable, like a torrent breaking everything in its way.
There was a letter with my name on it, but I didn’t dare go near to read it. The smell was too disgusting, rotten, the smell of death with—
My hair curled up in fear, my eyes crying my uncle’s blood. I stepped back in terror, my hand covering my mouth to keep me from screaming again.
The 27 of Carmin.
The corpse of my uncle smelled of it.
This wasn’t a suicide.
This was a murder.
Panicking, I thundered inside Hugo’s office with dried tears on my cheeks. I sprinted to him and collapsed in his arms, my whole body shaking under the shock.
“Lily, what happened?” Hugo’s grip tightened around me as he held me closer to him.
“My uncle… He’s—” A sob cut me off halfway, the words stuck in my jaw. “He’s dead. I think Adonis did this to him.”
I broke down again thinking about what Adonis had said at the launch.It would be a shame if another person had to die for that perfume.That was payback for his father. Adonis had nothing to lose compared to me.
My eyes plunged into Hugo’s, seeking answers no one could give me. “He was my friend. My uncle’s friend, and he did this to him. My uncle smelled of the No. 27. It wasn’t a coincidence. Hugo, it’s all my fault. I—”
