First Impressions

Salvius Alden Graves had faced down armed insurgents without breaking a sweat. He'd made split-second decisions that meant the difference between life and death. He'd commanded respect from hardened soldiers with nothing but his presence and his rank.

But standing outside a small botanical studio at 1:58 PM, about to buy perfume for the first time in his life, he felt distinctly out of his element.

Second Dawn. The name was painted in elegant script on the window, surrounded by delicate illustrations of flowers and vines. Through the glass, he could see shelves lined with bottles, dried flowers hanging from beams, soft afternoon light making everything look like something from a dream rather than reality.

He'd heard about this place from his father's business associate during a video call three months ago, back when he was still stationed overseas. "Small operation," the man had said, "but making waves. Custom perfumes, botanical art. My wife swears by them. New to the market but gaining quite a reputation for quality."

Salvius had filed the information away, not thinking he'd ever need it. But this morning, watching Bellarosa try so hard to seem okay when she clearly wasn't, he'd remembered. His cousin needed something. Not pity, she had enough of that. Not empty words about time healing wounds she'd heard those too. She needed something tangible, something that said I see you, I care, you matter.

And he had nothing.

Fourteen years of military service, and he'd never learned how to bring home gifts that weren't tactical gear or generic souvenirs. What did you give someone who was rebuilding herself from broken pieces?

Women liked perfume. That was a fact, wasn't it? Something custom, personal, made just for her. It was practical. Thoughtful. Efficient.

At least, that's what he'd told himself while searching for the address.

Salvius checked his watch. 2:00 PM exactly. He straightened his shoulders civilian clothes still felt strange after so many years in uniform and pushed open the door.

A small bell chimed. The scent hit him immediately: roses and lavender, something green and fresh, vanilla underneath it all. Not overwhelming, just... present. Warm. The kind of smell that made you want to breathe deeper.

"I'll be right there!" a voice called from somewhere in the back soft, melodic, the kind of voice that made you lean in to hear better.

Salvius stood in what appeared to be a small retail area. Shelves displayed bottles of varying sizes, each with hand-written labels. Pressed flower artwork hung on the walls. Everything was carefully arranged but felt organic, lived-in, loved.

It was the complete opposite of the sterile, controlled environment he'd just left at the Graves estate.

"Thank you for waiting, I was just—"

She emerged from the back workshop, and Salvius forgot how to finish thoughts.

The woman was young mid-twenties, perhaps with chocolate brown hair pulled back loosely, a few strands escaping to frame her face. But it was her eyes that stopped him cold: oceanic blue, the kind of blue that reminded him of clear water over white sand, of horizons and depth and things worth protecting.

She was beautiful. Not in the sharp, calculated way of the women at his parents' social functions. Beautiful in a softer way, natural and unassuming, like she didn't quite realize the effect she had.

She wore a simple linen apron over a cream-colored dress, and there were faint stains on her fingers purple from flower petals, perhaps, or residue from her work. Something about those stained fingers, the slightly messy hair, the gentle way she moved, hit him with unexpected force.

Focus, he commanded himself, falling back on military discipline. You're here for Bellarosa.

"Welcome to Second Dawn," she said, and that soft voice wrapped around him like the scents in the air. Her smile was genuine, reaching her eyes. "I'm Josephine Marelle. You must be my two o'clock consultation?"

"Salvius Graves." He extended his hand automatically, and when she took it, her palm was warm and small in his. He held on a fraction too long before military protocol kicked in and he released her. "Yes. Thank you for seeing me."

"Of course." She gestured toward a small table near the window, where two chairs sat waiting. Everything about her movements was graceful, unhurried. "Please, have a seat. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?"

"No, thank you." He sat, feeling too large for the delicate chair, too rough for this space of soft things and careful beauty.

Josephine settled across from him, pulling out a leather-bound notebook worn but well-kept and a fountain pen. She looked at him with those devastating blue eyes, and Salvius realized she was waiting for him to speak.

Right. Words. He knew how to use those.

"I need a custom perfume," he said, his voice coming out more abrupt than intended. Military briefing mode. He consciously softened his tone. "For my cousin. A gift."

"How lovely." Josephine's expression warmed further, and something in Salvius's chest tightened. "Custom perfumes are very personal. Can you tell me about her? What kind of person she is, what she loves, what makes her happy?"

It should have been a simple question. Instead, Salvius found himself studying the woman across from him the way afternoon light caught in her hair, the gentle patience in her posture, the complete absence of the judgment or calculation he was used to seeing in people's faces.

She wasn't looking at him like he was Salvius Graves, heir to a fortune. She was looking at him like he was simply a man who wanted to give his cousin a gift.

When was the last time someone had looked at him like he was just... human?

"She's..." he started, then paused, trying to find words. "She's going through a difficult time. A divorce. She's gentle, naive in some ways. Sees the best in people even when she shouldn't."

He thought of Bellarosa's bright smile that didn't quite hide the sadness, her determination to cook him lasagna, the way she still called him brother like that word meant safety. "She deserves something beautiful. Something that reminds her she's worth beautiful things."

Josephine's expression shifted something flickered in those blue eyes that looked almost like recognition, like understanding, like she knew exactly what he meant. Her hand moved to her notebook, but for just a moment, her fingers trembled before she steadied them.

"I think," she said softly, "I can create something perfect for her."

And looking at this gentle woman with stained fingers and kind eyes, surrounded by her careful creations and soft light, Salvius believed her absolutely.

He'd come here for Bellarosa.

But sitting across from Josephine Marelle, watching her prepare to listen to him with complete attention, Salvius felt something shift in his chest—something he hadn't felt in fourteen years of service, maybe longer.

Interest. Curiosity.

Attraction.

He was absolutely, completely unprepared for this.

💝💝💝

Gifts 🎁

Votes 🗳️

Likes ❤️

Comments 💬

Subscribe 🔔

If you enjoyed this chapter, a flower or vote would really motivate me 💖

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***