~ Seraphina ~
"Do you ever wonder if they can smell the rot beneath the perfume?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper against the plush leather of the SUV’s interior.
Lucien didn't look up from the tablet resting on his thigh. The blue light from the screen carved his features into sharp, unforgiving angles, making him look more like a statue than a man. Outside, the rain had begun to fall in earnest, blurring the neon lights of Manhattan into long, jagged streaks of gold and red. We had just left the Pierre Hotel, and the adrenaline from the gala was still humming in my veins like a live wire.
"They don't care about the rot, Seraphina," Lucien replied, his tone clinical and detached. "They only care if the perfume is expensive enough to stay in the room."
His thumb swiped across the sc
