The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 380

Chapter 380 You smell like

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Chapter 380 You smell like…

Mia’s POV

The tension between Thomas and Sophie stretched across my kitchen like a wire about to snap when Scarlett’s voice cut through it.

“Mia!” she called again.

Scarlett appeared in the doorway looking like she’d been caught in a windstorm. Her lipstick was gone, leaving her mouth looking pink.

Alexander waved at her with a hand covered in powdered sugar. “Hi Auntie Scarlett! Sophie made us a whole bakery!”

“Did she now?” Scarlett smiled. She moved into the kitchen.

Sophie’s attention had shifted from Thomas to Scarlett with the laser focus of a hawk.

“Scarlett, ma chérie,” Sophie said, her voice dropping to a purr of interest, “you look like you’ve been having adventures.’

“Adventures?” Scarlett laughed. “No, no adventures. Just… errands. Running errands.”

She moved toward my sink, reaching for one of the glasses I kept on the counter. She filled it with water from the tap, and I watched her drink the entire contents in three long gulps, her throat working.

“What kind of errands?” I asked.

“Beer,” Scarlett said quickly, setting the empty glass down with more force than necessary. “I went to get beer. For the… for later. You know, in case we wanted beer.”

Ethan looked up from where he’d been arranging Sophie’s macarons in color-coordinated rows. What’s beer?”

“Something grown-ups drink when they want to make bad decisions,” Thomas said.

Madison, who had been quietly working on her marzipan flower with the focused attention she brought to all artistic endeavors, paused in her shaping. “Auntie Scarlett, where’s the beer you bought?”

Oops.

Scarlett blinked, her hand moving automatically to smooth her hair. “The beer? Oh. The… I forgot it. At the store. I forgot to actually buy it after I picked it out.”

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Chapter 380 You smell like…

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Sophie had gone very still, her head tilted at that particular angle that reminded me of a cat hearing something interesting in the walls. She took a step closer to Scarlett, her movements graceful and predatory.

“How curious,” Sophie murmured, circling Scarlett like she was examining a piece of art she was considering purchasing. “You went to buy beer but forgot to buy beer.”

“It happens,” Scarlett said defensively. “People forget things.”

“Oui, of course they do.” Sophie paused directly behind Scarlett, close enough that I could see Scarlett’s shoulders tense. “But usually when people forget to buy something, it is because they were… distracted.”

And then, without any warning whatsoever, Sophie leaned forward and inhaled deeply near Scarlett’s neck.

“Sophie!” I started forward, but Sophie held up one perfectly manicured hand to stop me.

“Fascinating,” she murmured, taking another delicate sniff like she was analyzing an expensive wine. “Absolutely fascinating.”

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Scarlett spun around, her face flushing crimson. “What are you doing?”

“Research,” Sophie said cheerfully. “And ma chérie, you have been very busy this afternoon, haven’t you?”

The kitchen fell silent except for the soft bubbling of Thomas’s forgotten soufflé and the distant sound of traffic from the street below.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Scarlett said.

Sophie’s smile was wicked. “Oh, but I think you do. You see, I have what you might call a very educated nose. Years of traveling, of sampling the finest perfumes, of learning to distinguish between the subtle notes in complex bouquets.”

She began pacing now, her heels clicking against my kitchen floor in a rhythm that somehow managed to sound ominous.

“And right now, ma chérie, you smell like…” Sophie paused dramatically, tilting her head as if consulting some internal catalog. “Like skin heated by exertion. Like the particular musk that lingers after two people have been… shall we say… energetically reacquainted.”

Thomas made a choking sound that might have been a cough or a laugh.

She moved closer to Scarlett again, who backed up until she hit the counter.

“Cologne,” Sophie continued, her voice taking on the dreamy quality of someone lost in sensory

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Chapter 380 You smell like…

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memory. “Very expensive cologne. Something with bergamot and cedar, with base notes of sandalwood and just a whisper of tobacco. The kind of scent worn by men who understand that true. luxury is in the details.”

Scarlett’s face had gone from red to pale in the space of seconds.

“And there’s more,” Sophie said, clearly enjoying herself immensely. “The height differential suggests someone quite tall-at least six foot two, perhaps six foot three. The particular pattern of wrinkles on your blouse indicates strong hands, possibly large hands, the kind that belong to someone who rows crew or plays tennis.”

She paused, studying Scarlett’s face with scientific interest.

“Dark hair,” she continued thoughtfully. “very dark brown, almost black, with just the faintest hint of silver at the temples. And eyes… mmm, yes, definitely blue eyes. The kind of deep blue that photographs beautifully but can look almost gray in certain light.”

Thomas, Scarlett, and I exchanged looks that could have powered my building’s electrical system.

Because Sophie had just described Morton with photographic accuracy.

Alexander, who had been following this conversation with the rapt attention he usually reserved for particularly exciting nature documentaries, raised his hand like he was in school. “Sophie, how do you know what color someone’s eyes are just from smelling them?”

“Ah, mon petit, that is not from the smelling,” Sophie said, waving one hand dismissively. “That is from the observation. When someone has been kissed thoroughly by a man with blue eyes, there are… tells.”

“What kind of tells?” Ethan asked.

“The particular way the mascara smudges,” Sophie said seriously. “Blue-eyed men, they tend to cup a woman’s face when they kiss, yes? The thumbs rest just here- ” She gestured to her own cheekbones. “And if the kiss is passionate enough, long enough, the mascara transfers in a very specific pattern.”

Madison looked up from her marzipan flower. “Why don’t brown-eyed men do that?”

“They do, ma petite, but brown-eyed men tend to kiss with their eyes open. Blue-eyed men, they close their eyes and trust. It is a completely different technique.”

I stared at Sophie.

“That’s…” I started, then stopped, because I honestly had no idea how to finish that sentence. ” Sophie, please don’t talk about these things in front of my children.”

Scarlett buried her face in her hands. “This is not happening.”

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