Page 38 of Scent of Desire
An investigation has been officially opened, causing the Carmins’ company to fall considerably in the market, buyers no longer trusting the tainted image of the brand. Adonis Carmin, son of Carmin, spoke last night. “My dad would never be able to do such a thing. It’s unthinkable. He’s always been a loving dad and always respected women. That’s why he created Carmin—to sublimate them, not rape them. He never used any type of violence. The employees love him. Someone is just trying to sabotage us since our recent expansion.”
Now, the question we’re all asking ourselves: Will this scandal condemn the luxury giant to go bankrupt?
A page of history is turning.
I crinkled tomorrow’s newspaper into a ball—sent by another soul I owned working as an editor in chief—and tossed it into the fireplace.
Just like this news, Carmin would cease to exist and become nothing but dust and ashes.
All I needed to ignite the lightning was a spark.
People would take care of his destruction. All I had to do was to watch him fall. It was enough to point the light on Carmin, for his darkness and the truth to catch up with him. They would all come out of the silence, and although he managed to pay the most expensive lawyer and escape punishment with his little power, his company was dead. It was the first step in his destruction.
He knew it was me. The bathroom robe was a reminder.
When you have something to hide or lose, you can’t afford to play with fire. He couldn’t reach me.
This was my first check.
And soon, I’d saycheckmate.
Scent was the closest sense to the emotional brain. It made our memories speak the language of our soul. Scents were like falling in love, leading us to the complete dark to an unknown destination.
I would have been blind with the silky blindfold clouding my vision if it wasn’t for my nose picking the floral and evergreen woodsy notes, sharing its vision with me. Radcliff and I were back on the flower fields. I could tell by the way my body relaxed under the lavender smells, washing away all my negative emotions. The way the explosive bouquet of white tuberose smelled of salt skin in summer and milky dreams.
“Open your eyes.” His voice bloomed my senses, and I felt the weight of his haunting and transcending aura leaving my side.
I let go of the blindfold.
One minute ago, there was only darkness.
The wait.
The unknown.
Now, with opened eyes and no blindfold, it was only heaven.
“What is—” I stopped midsentence.
Radcliff had grabbed the handle of an old wooden door to what I believed to be an extraction plant because it was placed right in the middle of the flower fields. From the outside, it looked like an old countryside house, only bigger, the size of a small hangar. The windows were huge, letting the light enter. Its stone walls were covered with ivy, which climbed the facade.
Not far away from this, there was a Mediterraneanmasor some kind of colored bastide with an orange facade and blue shutters, the ideal place to sit on a rocking chair and smell the fresh aroma of a morning sunrise, listening to the cicadas.
“I believe you already know,” Radcliff answered my question and opened the door to a new universe.
He engulfed himself inside, and the sugary scent of roses filled my nostrils with the draft that called me in. I stepped inside the entrance of this magic kingdom, taking the whole place in. Huge copper tubs faced us. They were probably three meters tall, opened at the top, similar to an enormous cauldron to brew forbidden elixirs.
This was where magical potions were made.
The place where flowers became perfume.
A perfume factory.
The light pierced through the giant windows into radiant rays, giving the impression the tubs were enchanted with fairy dust floating around.
I was Alice in Wonderland.
“How do you have access to this place?” My voice echoed across the vastness of space.
