Chapter 4 The Scent Of Doubt

It had been three days since Avery last saw Damien Wolfe.

She had told herself he wouldn't come back. That men like him didn't waste their time twice.

But as she arranged a new set of candles by the front window, the familiar sound of heavy footsteps returned-slow, measured, and cold.

The door opened.

And there he was.

Damien Wolfe. Again.

This time, he wasn't wearing his usual dark coat. He was in a simple button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He looked... less guarded. But his eyes were the same. Sharp. Controlled.

He didn't greet her. Just stood there, watching.

Avery tried to keep her voice steady. "You're starting to make this a habit."

"I need something," he said simply.

"Let me guess... another candle?"

He shook his head.

"I need... help."

That caught her attention.

Damien Wolfe. CEO of a billion-dollar company. Asking her for help?

She put down the candle she was holding. "I'm listening."

"There's an event this Friday," he said. "A charity auction for the Wolfe Foundation. Press. Investors. Partners. And I need something... less plastic. Something real."

"Let me guess again," she said. "You want me to design a candle for the event?"

"No," he said, stepping closer. "I want you to... come with me."

Avery blinked. "Come with you?"

He nodded.

"As a guest?"

"As a... date."

Avery burst out laughing before she could stop herself. "That's a joke, right?"

Damien didn't laugh. "You're the only person I've met in years who doesn't pretend around me. I need that."

"You don't know me," she replied.

"That's the point," he said. "Everyone at that party knows my life. You don't. You don't play their games."

Avery hesitated. "And your real date?"

His jaw tightened. "She's not available."

Avery knew exactly who he meant.

Stacey.

The same woman who gave her a fake smile and bought a candle meant to insult.

"You want me to pretend to be someone I'm not," Avery said.

"No," he replied. "I want you to be exactly who you are."

There was a strange honesty in his eyes.

And for a second, Avery saw a crack in the wall he always wore.

Vulnerability. Barely there-but real.

She exhaled slowly. "Fine. But I'm not dressing like someone from your world."

"I don't care what you wear," he said. "Just show up."

He placed a black card on the counter.

"Send the bill for whatever you need."

"I'm not taking your money."

"It's not a favor," he said. "It's a deal."

Avery looked at the card... and then back at him.

"Alright," she said quietly. "One night."

---

Friday Night

The venue was nothing short of stunning.

Crystal chandeliers. Velvet curtains. Waiters in white gloves.

Avery stepped inside in a sleek black dress she borrowed from a friend. It wasn't designer, but it hugged her form and made her feel powerful.

She wore her hair loose, minimal makeup, and just a hint of her newest candle scent dabbed on her wrist.

When Damien saw her from across the room, something in his eyes shifted.

He approached slowly, every step controlled, as if stunned.

"You look..."

She raised a brow. "Careful. Don't compliment me. You might start sounding human."

He let out the faintest laugh. "Too late."

He offered his arm, and she took it-awkwardly at first, but by the time they entered the ballroom, they looked... comfortable. Almost natural.

But eyes were watching.

And one of them belonged to Stacey.

She stood at the far end of the room in a champagne-colored gown, flanked by men in expensive suits, her smile tight as she sipped her drink.

She had known Damien would bring someone. She just didn't expect her.

Avery.

That girl from the shop.

That candle girl.

She kept her expression pleasant as she approached.

"Well, well," she said, her voice dripping with sugar. "I didn't expect you to come."

Avery turned. "You sound surprised."

Stacey smiled. "Damien and I usually attend these together. We're practically tradition."

Avery nodded politely. "Traditions change."

The air grew cold for a second.

Stacey looked at Damien, expecting him to defend her. But he said nothing.

Instead, he gently guided Avery toward a quieter corner.

"You okay?" he asked.

Avery nodded. "She doesn't scare me."

"Good."

---

Later That Evening

Avery stepped outside for air.

The noise inside was too much. Too fake. Too glittery.

She stood near the edge of the balcony, watching the city lights flicker below.

Then she heard soft heels behind her.

"Pretty view, isn't it?"

It was Stacey.

Avery kept her face calm. "Peaceful."

"You're not from this world, are you?" Stacey said.

"No," Avery replied. "And I'm not trying to be."

"Then don't get too comfortable," Stacey whispered, her tone dropping. "Men like Damien don't fall for girls like you."

Avery turned slowly to face her.

"I'm not trying to make him fall."

Stacey smiled, but her eyes were sharp. "Good. Because he's already mine."

Avery didn't answer.

She didn't need to.

The truth hung in the air between them like smoke.

---

Two Days Later

Avery opened her shop and found a negative review posted online.

"Rude owner. Cheap products. Not worth the hype."

Attached was a blurry photo of her from the event, labeled "Social climber alert."

Avery felt her stomach drop.

She didn't need to guess who posted it. The timing was too perfect.

Her hands shook as she closed her laptop.

This... was war.

And she hadn't even started it.

---

Damien

He sat in his office, scrolling through his phone.

He saw the review.

He knew the tone.

He had seen Stacey write things like this before-passive, polished, vicious.

His jaw clenched.

For the first time in a long time, Damien Wolfe felt protective.

And he didn't like it.

But he also couldn't ignore it.

---

Stacey

She sat at her vanity, touching up her lipstick.

Her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Damien.

> "Don't do this."

She stared at the words.

Then deleted them.

Some lessons had to be learned the hard way.

---

Avery

She stood in her shop that night, the scent of burning wax around her.

She wasn't afraid.

She had grown up without love. Without help. She had built her own strength from nothing.

She didn't need approval.

But still... something about the look Damien gave her that night stayed in her chest like a secret flame.

One that refused to go out.

Not yet.