Lethal Scents: Love and Mind Games

Chapter 1 “So… are we really doing this? Running away? Like, for real?” Britney’s smile faded as she reached out and squeezed Zee’s hand. Zee hugged her knees, the heavy silk rustling. “I couldn’t stay there another second. The dresses felt like chains." Her best friend, Britney, sat cross-legged opposite her in jeans and a faded hoodie, looking painfully out of place next to all the birthday-girl elegance. “You’re insane,” Britney said, half-laughing, half-horrified. “You ran through the streets in “that." People probably thought you were a damsel in distress or you were eloping.” Zee Hilton sat on the dusty wooden stool in a breathtaking peach ball gown, the long train pooled around her like spilled cream. She had bolted from the final fitting barely an hour ago. “I don’t know if I can go through with all of these,” Zee whispered. “You know my pare… sorry, my dad and his wife,” she whispered. They could end me if I remained adamant. Every single thing I’ve built aside from handling Dad’s company could go down the drain and I don’t want that.” How?” Britney whispered in return. “I thought no one knew you were Lethal scents. No one knows, right?” Zee spaces out for a second at the thought of the question. No one knows. No one can find out. Zee stared out at the crashing waves below. The old abandoned lighthouse at the edge of the cliffs had always been their secret place. Salt-stained walls, cracked windows, and the endless roar of the ocean below made it feel like the rest of the world couldn’t touch them. The secret place had heard many of their dreams over the years—Britney’s wish to study art in Paris, Zee’s quiet longing to disappear and sing without her family’s judgments, but this conversation felt heavier than any before. Zee nods her head, reassuring not just Britney. Then she gets up. She walked over to the far wall of the lighthouse— the heavy silk of the ball gown whispering against the dusty floorboards. An old sheet had been draped over something leaning against the stone. With a quick tug, she pulled the fabric away. There it was. Her large, framed portrait. The photograph showed only Zee’s back. She was standing in front of a window, wearing a deep midnight-blue backless gown that draped elegantly down her spine. The focus of the image was unmistakable: the several intricate blue rose tattoos that bloomed across her upper back, their thorny stems twisting gracefully on her lower back, over the faint scars beneath. The photographer had come highly recommended, and she had captured the moment perfectly. Soft natural light kissed her skin, making the blue ink appear almost alive. Zee stared at the portrait, like she normally does anytime she doubts that she is tough, her fingers gently tracing the frame… “I love it,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I didn’t think I would at first. Zee kept staring at the portrait, the blue roses on her back pulling her deep into memory. The image transported her back to her twenty-first birthday, the night everything changed. It had been a carefully orchestrated rebellion. She had planned the entire evening with military precision. At 7:30 PM sharp, she had slipped into the small lit tattoo palour, by 9 PM she was at the crowded club, dancing wildly with Britney, the fresh tattoos burning under her shirt like a secret victory. For two hours she was free — laughing, sweating, alive. At 10 PM came the moment she had dreamed about for months. She stepped onto the bar stage for her very first solo performance. The lights were low, the crowd intimate. When she opened her mouth and sang, something inside her unlocked. She remembers it was the same night that brought the idea to run off. Everything was done at the Undergrounds, a vice den in the big city of Agat where the Elites washed their dirty linen, so it was all easy to handle. She had scheduled picking up her gown for 10:45 PM to arrive at 11:00 PM exactly for her event, but she and Jakes were discussing her contract. Jakes had liked her music and wanted to retain her. Dad and Jolie never did. They called her a daydreamer. “You are a Hilton. Not some street singer. Don't ever bring this up again”. They always yelled Over the years, she now performs at their dimly lit jazz bar as the mystery masked female, “Lethal Scents”. The big city asset with a voice that sends chills down men's spines, that every man in Agat would pay any amount to get, even her dad. He didn’t know it was her. All the city knew about her was her back and her blue rose tattoos that sit perfectly on the pale skin. Zee ensures she leaves her audience with that little exit gift of her back in those backless signature gowns, turning slowly when she lets out the last note. Then pausing, to tilt her head to look at them just to smirk beneath her mask like she had just cast the right spell, before she cat walks away behind the red curtains. The screams were always the response, men and women who controlled the city, adoring her because they would never guess she was the Hilton’s obedient illegitimate, only daughter. Her dad had met with her mum in a village project and had her. He didn’t even care because he had a wife from a prestigious family in the city with three sons. All he did was take her away at four when he found out, to stay with his psycho forgiving wife and sons. Life has been traumatized-fun since then. “How I wished i had spent my birthday performing at the Undergrounds, that entire night than at such fake charade” she hissed. She had arrived 30 mins late and had seen her Dad through the passenger window at the door of the hall waiting for her. The excitement and dopamine rushes from her little adventure vanished. Hank Hilton stood like a statue under the entrance lights, his face thunderous. The moment Zee stepped out of the car, he grabbed her arm and yanked her inside. Slap. The sound echoed sharply in the marble foyer. Zee’s head snapped to the side, her cheek stinging but she remained still. “Where have you been?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Do you intend to embarrass me today? Go in now and fix your makeup, everyone is here. You should welcome them properly”. He released her arm with a shove. Then walked away. The rest of the night was just fake smiles and fake pleasantries. Her adventure had awakened something and nothing else mattered at that moment, except a particular scent that disrupted her thoughts almost when she was retiring to bed. Zee had perceived an unusual scent at their rooftop. She didn’t want to check who it was, but the scent kept her curious. Her three brothers were far away from home living independently outside Dad’s controlling attitude, deciding they wanted nothing with family business, leaving her to suffer as Probation CEO, so she was sure it wasn’t any of them. Restless, she stepped out onto the private rooftop terrace of the family estate. The moment she opened the door, the rich, masculine cologne drifted toward her — sandalwood, leather, and something darker, like smoke and power. It wrapped around her senses. Someone was really there. A tall man stood at the railing, his back partially turned, slowly exhaling cigarette smoke into the night. Even in the dim lighting, his presence dominated the space. Broad shoulders, tailored black shirt, and an aura of quiet danger. He turned when he heard her footsteps. Their eyes met. For several long seconds, neither spoke. It was a silent stare contest — intense, electric, and strangely familiar. His gaze was sharp, assessing, almost predatory. Zee felt her pulse quicken, but she refused to look away, first. She hated anyone making her fold He took a slow drag from his cigarette, then dropped it and stepped closer. The cologne grew stronger. When he was only a few feet away, something inside Zee shifted. The good girl facade she wore for her family cracked. She went Lethal Scent mode and did the triangle move. Her posture changed. She tilted her head slightly, letting the moonlight catch her face as she looked up at him through lowered lashes. Her eyes darkened with deliberate seduction — bold, challenging, and full of fire. A small, knowing smile curved her lips. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. The look she gave him was pure invitation and defiance at once. The man’s jaw tightened. For a moment, he seemed almost surprised by her audacity. Then, without warning, he closed the remaining distance, grabbing her lower back… “How disappointing that a dark mind manipulator like her almost lost control over a single kiss. She slapped him though, then walked away. “Maybe it’s his cologne choice,” Zee had assured herself that night as she rushed off to go pee. Her nose has always been like that all her life. That was how she knew Jolie had been to the house the day she had visited her mum and saw her lying in her own pool of blood. “Why didn’t I go for Lethal Dog?” She muttered with a smirk. “Nothing actually passes my nose." She chuckled. “Zee!” “Zee!” A loud, sharp voice suddenly cut through the haze. “Zee! Earth to Zee!” Britney jammed her hands violently from where she sat. “Hey! Come back to me, girl. You’re spacing out again.” Zee blinked rapidly, pulled back to the present with a jolt. Britney crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “You were gone for like five whole minutes staring at that picture. I’ve been talking to you, didn’t you hear all I’ve been saying? Why not just go home for now and we can properly plan tomorrow? She sounded softly now, trying to cajole her. “No!” Zee answered, walking away from the portrait and reaching for her phone. “79 missed calls,” she smirked. “Isn’t that too small?” She frowned. “What can we do?” Britney asked, terrified. It was her 26th birthday today, but she had escaped from the outfit mall to their spot. Today was supposed to be an official introduction to a marriage alliance but she refused to be found. She had called Britney from the dressing room before she broke out the window. To get alcohol and meet her at their secret spot. “Ensure that no one knows that I called you, your driver should be here already. Bye,” she whispered before she ended the call. Zee puts the phone back on the sofa, but a notification comes in: [You had better have a valid explanation. You have 10hrs before I track you down, don’t let me do that, we both know you don’t like the penalty basement…. kisses] It was Dad. She puts off the phone and throws it at the sofa.