The cloying scent of perfume clung to Cedric’s suit, a fragrance she recognized instantly. The saleswoman had called it "After Affair Perfume," describing it as alluring, almost scandalous. Back then, she’d dismissed it as too provocative, too bold for someone like her.
But what struck her most was that Cedric, with his rhinitis, couldn’t tolerate strong scents. For years, she had chosen perfumes with barely-there aromas just for his comfort.
Her gaze lingered on the red marks adorning Cedric’s neck, and she asked deliberately, her voice calm but pointed, "What happened to your neck?"
Cedric froze for a moment before quickly releasing her and striding toward the mirror. His hand instinctively moved to rub the marks as his brows furrowed. "Probably mosquito bites."
"Really?" Dione’s lips curved into a faint smile, though her eyes remained sharp. "Are you sure it wasn’t some woman leaving her mark?"
Her gaze bore into his reflection, searching for any flicker of guilt.