Page 37 of Scent of Desire
“One day, I’ll have this,” I murmured more to myself than to Radcliff, contemplating the boutique that was the epitome of luxury and success.
“Why settle for only that,” Radcliff dropped, his gaze fixed on the smiling picture of Christian Carmin. His jaw knotted, and murder spread in his eyes like burning hellfire. “Carmin is no legend. He’s barely an emperor, whose reign would be short.”
Radcliff pulled his Devil card out of his coat, which he rolled between his fingers, faster and faster, his lips twitching with something dark and twisted.
“What do you mean?” For some unknown reason, a shiver went through my back, and my skin hissed on alert.
“I mean, flower goddess, if someone has the potential to destroy your kingdom, it is that you’ve never been the true ruler of it.” He flicked his card, which flew away with the wind to fall in front of Carmin’s store. “To be untouchable, you should never have a contestant.”
“But if you’re successful, people will want to make you fall.” I shook my head, finally pulling away from the window. “They’ll want to take everything you have.”
“But they can’t, can they?” His eyes glimmered, and the shadow on his face gave the impression his scar was expanding menacingly on his cheek. “That’s the difference.”
Radcliff’s words stuck to my jaw while we ambled through the center of the place. Perhaps he was right. All you needed was to excel in your area without feeling threatened by anyone else. No one could take away who you are and your accomplishments. After all, creations and humans couldn’t be compared, or else it’d inflict only self-doubt and misery.
“So, if my thing is scents…” I shot him a glance. “What is yours? Precious rocks and jewels, right? Or maybe your club?”
“I’ll not reveal all my cards.” Shadows seemed to dance above him as if the spirits of the night had awoken. “Not even to you, little witch.”
I ignored the breaking feeling inside my heart and the fact his reply could only mean that Radcliff had darker purposes. Purposes he wasn’t ready to share with me. Ones including the aphrodisiac.
We stopped at a fountain, the noise of the water leaping above my unwanted thoughts. I focused upon the imposing statue standing in the middle of the fountain. It was an angel, a fallen one, whose wings had been broken. Once upon a time, he had been white, but now he had black marks on him, like thorns tearing him apart. He had cracks everywhere, as if someone had tried to sew him back. His face was cut by a line in the middle, one of his eyes black. That angel had been through hell, but he was just as beautiful as the man next to me.
“He looks like you, somehow.” I admired every inch of it. “Unique, scarred, and powerful.”
“He’s an angel.” Radcliff squinted his eyes at the statue. “And not a good one as it seems.”
“You know, I always thought we all had a guardian angel.” Sadness washed over me in a wave, memories trying to rush back. “Even if I lost mine. I’m not even mad he abandoned me. I deserved it.”
Radcliff cracked his knuckles, his gaze not leaving the statue. “What happened?”
“He went away because of me.” My voice trembled and weakened. I had never spoken to anyone about this before. “It was all my fault.”
Radcliff crossed his arms on his chest, a visible frown on his forehead. He drifted his stare in my direction with icy coldness. “You met him?”
“No, I—” I sighed. “I don’t remember. My memory is playing tricks on me. I’m not even sure he’s a him—maybe none of that was real. The only thing I remember was the scent of him and the day he left. That plant.”
“It’s all in the past. It doesn’t matter if it was an illusion or the truth.” Radcliff’s muscles stiffened.
“You’re right.” I peered up at the statue one last time. “It’s funny, but now I think you could be some kind of guardian angel too.” I smiled. “Some kind of hero.”
“Just because I won’t be the monster in your story doesn’t mean I’ll be your hero. I’m not. I’ll never be. I’m the villain, Lily, and nothing will ever change that.”
Amacabre image to wake up to:
A giant doll hung on the top floor of Carmin’s headquarters.
This morning, the crowd rushed to the Carmin’s empire. A giant doll or, more accurately, a spitting image of Carmin’s CEO, Christian, was hung on the last floor of the building.
The doll with the effigy of Christian wore a white bathrobe emblazoned with his initials: CC. But that’s not it. The word “rapist” was written in blood on his chest, disconcerting passers-by in the street.
The police took suspects working at Carmin’s into custody. The culprit(s) would have entered the company and broken inside Christian Carmin’s house to steal that bathrobe. Nothing else has been stolen to date inside his property.
Christian Carmin: A rapist.
The gloomy message yesterday calling out Carmin a rapist has caused a riot among families. Women have manifested in front of the building all morning with signs written: ‘stop abuse,’ ‘we are not objects,’ ‘my body: my choice, not yours’.
Six women emerged from the silence, accusing Christian Carmin of rape, sexism and abuse. To quote a testimonial that froze our backs from a 17-year-old model, “he said he was going to help me and introduce me to his contacts. I believed him, and when he asked me to come to his office to talk, he forced me to give him a blowjob. He was getting off on my tears. I’m still ashamed. He was so powerful, and I was no one. Who would believe me?”
