Chapter 112

Agnes

For a few moments following Elijah’s swift exit, I just stood there, Mason’s business card clutched in my hand.

Elijah looked furious when he saw me there with Mason, and although I hadn’t agreed to coffee or anything of the sort, I couldn’t help but feel…

Guilty.

I knew I shouldn’t. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and Elijah wasn’t the type to get so angry over a simple, unexpected interaction with an ex from years ago. So I made the decision to shake it off, and slipped back into the bathroom to compose myself briefly.

After I splashed some cold water on my hands, fixed my hair, and smoothed down my dress, I took a deep breath and made my way back out to the table.

When I returned to the table, Elijah was smiling again and chatting with Thea over slices of chocolate cake. There was a slice for me in my spot, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

As I took a seat, Elijah didn’t mention Mason or the foul-smelling perfume, and I didn’t think much more about it. Maybe I’d just misunderstood the look he had given me. Maybe I’d misunderstood the entire night.

Thea was in high spirits, chattering away about her dessert and how much fun she was having. Elijah took bites of his cake, smiling and laughing with her, and not once did he cover his face again now that I’d washed off the perfume.

But every now and then, I could see it—the way he would glance at me, his eyes dark and filled with something I couldn’t quite read.

The looks he gave me left me feeling uneasy, but I tried my best to ignore them, chalking them up instead to perhaps my own anxiety after speaking to Mason.

When we got home, I put Thea to bed, tucking her in and kissing her forehead.

“Did the perfume work?” she whispered, looking up at me.

The reminder hurt a bit more than I wanted to admit, and images of Elijah covering his nose like I smelled like hot garbage flashed through my mind. But I managed a smile and said gently, “I’m sure he did. But don’t worry about it, sweetheart. Just get some rest, okay?”

She nodded, her eyelids already drooping, and I quietly slipped out of the room once she was peacefully asleep.

As I made my way down the hall toward my room, I noticed that Elijah’s room was already dark, and the door was closed. He had gone to bed without saying goodnight, and the realization made my chest tighten.

I wanted to knock on his door, to explain what had happened with Mason, but I didn’t. Instead, I went to my own room, feeling strange and unsettled.

I slept fitfully that night, my mind racing with thoughts of Elijah, Mason, and the perfume. When I woke up the next morning, I felt no more rested than I had the night before. Surprisingly, the house was quiet, and when I asked one of the staff where Elijah and Thea were, I discovered that he had taken her out for a father-daughter day.

Not really thinking much of it, I wandered into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea, and then felt something in the pocket of my cardigan. I pulled it out, my brow furrowing as I looked down at Mason’s business card.

What did he want to tell me, I wondered? He said he had something to talk about, something that seemed important. The question had been nagging at me all night, and now, with the card in my hand, I felt a strange pull toward it. But I shook my head, slipping it back into my pocket.

After breakfast I decided to go out for a while, hoping some fresh air would clear my head. As I got ready, I found myself staring at the bottle of perfume Thea and I had made. Out of curiosity, I dabbed a bit on my wrists and neck, wondering if the scent had really been as offensive to Elijah as it seemed.

The floral, woodsy aroma filled the air, and I took a deep breath, trying to gauge how it smelled. It was nice, but not overpowering—at least, not to me. But maybe other people would be offended by it just like Elijah had.

I made my way to town after that, where I stepped into a small boutique. But as I browsed through the racks of clothes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that people were looking at me.

At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then I noticed a man across the store staring at me, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. When I passed him, he dropped the shirt he was holding, fumbling to pick it up as his face turned red.

I frowned as I passed, wondering if it was the perfume that was making people stare. But one thing was for certain: no one was covering their noses. In fact, as I purchased a new pair of socks, the woman at the cash register even complimented my scent.

“What brand of perfume are you wearing?” she asked. “It smells really nice.”

My cheeks flushed. “Oh, I made it,” I admitted.

The woman’s face lit up. “Well, you should open your own perfume shop,” she laughed. “It smells so good.”

I thanked her and left the boutique, then went to a nearby coffee shop. There, the barista stared at me to the point at which the coffee he was filling sloshed over the rim of the cup, and the woman standing in line behind me murmured, “Someone smells amazing.”

By the time I left the coffee shop, I was really confused. Everyone else seemed to love it—some of the men even seemed a little entranced by it—so why did Elijah seem to hate it?

Was it just me? Did Elijah just… not like me anymore?

It didn’t make any sense. Elijah hadn’t given me any indication of a loss of feelings, and yet…

We hadn’t talked much about our night together since it had happened. In fact, we hadn’t talked about it at all, and the idea of a repeat seemed more and more unlikely by the day.

What if he hadn’t enjoyed his night as much as I had? Or what if he sensed the perfume and realized what I had done? Or, even worse, what if Thea told him about the pheromones, and now he was looking down on me, thinking less of me than before because I had gone to such lengths?

The thought made me shudder, and I quickly pushed it away, hoping I was wrong.

Just before I headed home, I decided to stop by a small bookstore. As I browsed the shelves, I noticed a man following me, his eyes darting to me as he pretended to look at books. When I turned a corner, he nearly bumped into me, his face turning bright red as he mumbled an apology and hurried away.

I frowned as I watched him go, but chalked it up to the perfume once more, and made a mental note not to wear it again; it was starting to feel like more trouble than it was worth. After that, I purchased a book and left, digging through my purse for my keys.

I was just walking up to my car when I felt eyes on me again. Growing a little frustrated by now, I glanced up, expecting someone else to be gawking.

But it was the man from the bookstore again. Only he wasn’t just gawking; he was directly behind me.

And he looked almost… hungry.