Page 103 of Midnight Curfew

But he tries to pull her off of him. “Sophia, no.”

Her eyebrows nose-dive, and I hear her—even through the window—inhale his smell. She draws in air once, then twice, and then, before he can pry her off, she releases him.

Dropping the brushes in her hand, she stumbles backward, nearly tripping over the canvas as her face contorts into fear.

He reaches for her. “Sophia.”

She shakes her head, retreating and trying to get away from him. “Why?”

What the fuck?

I thought he smelled fine.

He walks toward her. “Come here.”

She shakes her head frantically, backing up the stairs, terrified of him all of a sudden. Why is she scared? What happened?

“Sophia!”

“Don’t, please!”

Spinning around, she scrambles up the stairs, and he grabs the banister, vaulting up after her.

Lifting my arm to my nose, I sniff. I didn’t wear any cologne tonight, but there’s a perfume.

There were women on me and…him. I was close to him.

I smell again, catching the scent.

The Wolfe Room was perfumed. I could smell it as soon as I walked in, like the Garden of Eden, coupled with the décor and music meant to transport us into another realm.

Realization dawns. She knows what the Wolfe Room smells like.

I open the door and walk in, hearing glass and other things crashing and smashing on the second floor.

“Sophia!” he bellows. “It’s okay!”

“Why?” she wails. “Why, why, why…”

Taking a quick glance to make sure no one else is around, I ascend the stairs softly but quickly. Hugging my back to the wall, I slide down to a bedroom.

“Sophia!” he growls.

Peering through the crack, I watch him grab her, but she flails, screaming.

He can’t keep hold of her, and she goes wild, shoving everything off her little makeup table.

“Does that help?!” he hollers, jamming his foot into her dresser drawers again and again and again.

She scurries back, sobbing as she grabs a lamp and shatters it on the floor.

“Dammit!” he growls, balling his fists. “Knock it off!”

She clutches her head, screaming as tears stream down her face.

“I didn’t do anything bad,” he shouts. “I never do anything!”

I can hear the sobs caught in his throat, and I don’t even breathe, afraid he’ll see me.