The Perfume Ritual

It was Saturday. The house smelled faintly of lavender and nightshade.

Diana, in sheer black blouse, leather skirt, spider earrings, and heels, ran a brush through her hair after a long bath. She applied charcoal toothpaste, dark lipstick and her other essentials for her makeup routine, and her favorite perfume—every small ritual carried dominance and elegance.

Beckett quietly watched, sipping soda from the armchair.

“Do you ever stop being perfect?” he asked softly.

She smirked. “I never claimed to be humble, my prince.”

Later, she called the twins over, letting them sniff the air, teasing them about her “seductive smells.” Even the twins rolled their eyes but secretly found it amusing.