Scented Claudia

stared at my reflection in the mirror, mind spinning.

Where the hell was i supposed to find a man in 1 week?

"Goddamn it," I muttered, rubbing my temples.

I'd called Vanessa first thing this morning to tell her i wouldn't be in.

I needed her on top of the investors' orders, our fragrances were shipping out today.

She could handle it.

She always did.

I couldn't focus on work. Not after last night's dinner.

Not after agreeing, lying, actually, that i had a boyfriend.

I got dressed methodically: a crisp white top with a dramatic shoulder-slit that managed to look both polished and a little provocative, paired with high-waisted black trousers that elongated my legs. Four-inch black stilettos, because I needed every psychological advantage today.

I pulled my hair into a low ponytail. Clean. Professional. Unbothered. Finished it off with deep red lipstick, battle paint, if i was being honest.

Because today wasn't about work.

It was about seeing my doctor. Again.

Same specialist, same stupid question, same quiet hope i hadn't managed to kill off completely.

—

At the hospital, I parked in the VIP section. Nurse Cha was already there, offering a polite smile.

"Miss Araneta. This way, please."

I followed, heels clicking on the polished floor, head high.

Inside the office, I froze.

There was someone new by the desk, leafing through my chart.

He wore a white coat over a perfectly fitted navy dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. Strong forearms, lean but muscular.

His hair was neatly styled but fell slightly into his eyes. He pushed it back absently as he read.

Gutierrez. That was the name on his tag.

I squinted. Gutierrez?

I sat down without thinking.

The first words out of my mouth were—

"Marry me."

He looked up slowly, startled.

"Excuse me?"

Shit.

I cleared my throat. "Nothing. Ignore that."

His mouth twitched, but he didn't laugh outright.

Instead, he adjusted his glasses and studied my file.

"I've reviewed your previous records," he said, voice calm and steady. "There's no evidence of trauma or neurological damage."

I swallowed. "Meaning?"

He closed the folder gently. "Meaning you were born this way. Your sense of smell never developed. I'm sorry."

I blinked once. Twice.

Of course that was the answer. It always was.

I leaned back, voice low. "So that's it. No cure. No hope."

He hesitated. "It doesn't affect your health. You can live a normal life."

I let out a hollow laugh. "Right. Normal. I only own a fragrance empire i can't even smell."

He actually smiled at that.

A small, reluctant curve of his lips. "That's... ironic."

"Ironic's one word for it," I muttered.

Silence stretched.

I eyed him.

He was annoyingly good-looking. Serious, but not cold.

The kind of man who thought before he spoke.

Perfect.

"Can i get your number?" I asked, feigning nonchalance. "You know, for emergencies."

He looked at me for a beat before handing me his card.

Dr. Raphael Sebastian Gutierrez.

I tucked it into my purse, trying not to grin.

"Thanks, Doc."

—

After the hospital, I drove straight home to my condo.

I stayed in my condo for 3 hours, reviewing contracts, etc.

I tried to distract myself by reviewing that cursed loan contract.

Three million pesos.

Viviena Cane Gutierrez.

The address wasn't far.

Perfect.

I didn't even think twice.

I just drove.

The house was tidy, middle-class, unpretentious.

I knocked once, firm and unapologetic.

When the door opened, I blinked.

Of course.

Dr. Raphael Gutierrez.

"You?" I demanded.

He raised an eyebrow. "That's my line."

I held up the contract like a weapon. "Your sister owes me three million pesos."

His eyes flickered.

He didn't even try to deny it.

"Come inside," he said quietly.

He led me to the garage, small, spare, a single car, a few boxes stacked neatly.

He took the contract from my hand, scanned it quickly.

For a moment, he just... stood there.

Then he turned and walked back inside.

I waited.

A few minutes later he returned, face unreadable.

"Can we talk somewhere else?" he asked evenly.

I crossed my arms. "Depends. Are you about to make excuses for her?"

He let out a long breath. "Just give me a chance. There's a coffee shop nearby. Meet me there."

I considered it.

Fine.

I sent him the address.

Don't even think about running.

He checked his phone, then gave me a cool, measured nod.

"I'll be there."

—

The café was quiet.

Low lighting.

Enough privacy.

I picked the corner table deliberately.

The scent of roasted coffee hung in the air. I ignored it, couldn't smell it anyway, but i liked the idea of it.

I ordered a black coffee, no sugar.

Bitter. Honest.

When he finally arrived, he sat across from me without a word.

"Let's hear it," I said.

He took a breath. "I can pay you back. Monthly. Over three years."

I raised an eyebrow. "Three years? That's cute."

He scowled slightly.

I tapped my cup. "Or, you know, you could marry me."

He froze.

"What?"

I sipped my coffee. "You heard me. Marry me. One year. We divorce after."

He actually laughed. Bitter, humorless.

"No."

I didn't even blink. "Look, we both have a problem. Your sister's debt. My parents threatening to hand everything over unless i get married. We can solve it for each other."

He ran a hand over his face. "There's no divorce in the Philippines."

"As if i'd marry you here."

That shut him up.

He just stared at me, eyes narrowed like he was trying to figure me out.

Finally he exhaled, voice tight. "No. I'm not marrying someone i don't even know."

I shrugged. "Your loss."

He shook his head. "I'll stick to paying you monthly."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not waiting three years for my money."

He actually looked frustrated for the first time.

"I'm a doctor. Not some tycoon. I don't have that kind of cash. My parents lost everything. My sister was just trying to help."

I sat there quietly, watching him.

So that was it.

He wasn't just paying for his sister's mistake.

He was carrying the whole family.

I stood, grabbing my purse.

"Think about it," I said lightly.

He didn't answer.

—

The Next day.,

I tried to focus, signing off on perfume batches, skimming contracts.

But my brain wouldn't cooperate.

Vanessa knocked gently before placing coffee on my desk.

"Thanks," I mumbled, not looking up.

Then my father's voice boomed from the door.

"How's my Claudia today?"

I didn't bother glancing at him.

"Busy."

He chuckled. "Just came to remind you. Dinner".

He left before i could say anything.

I stared at my calendar.

Two days.

Fuck.

No calls from Raphael. No texts.

Nothing.

I dropped my pen, stood abruptly, and headed out.

If i was going to convince a man to fake-marry me, I might as well do it properly.

I stopped at the nearest florist and picked out the biggest, most obnoxious bouquet i could find.

I didn't even knock when i reached his office.

He looked up, startled, as i shoved the flowers at him.

"What is this?"

"We're not allowed to accept gifts from patients," he added, pushing them back.

"Calm down, Doctor. It's an appreciation bouquet."

He looked like he wanted to strangle me.

I exhaled.

"Marry me."

His eyes went wide in horror.

Worse, the door was still open.

Nurses gasped.

A couple of them squealed.

Raphael closed his eyes briefly, then grabbed my wrist and hissed, "Shut up. Do you want to get me fired?"

Before i could respond, someone burst in, crying dramatically.

"Doc! It hurts here!"

She was all designer clothes and perfect makeup, shoving me aside like i was invisible.

I shot her a death glare.

Raphael sighed and started examining her while i watched, seething.

She turned to sneer at me.

"What?" I snapped.

"Do you even know who i am?" she demanded.

"Nope."

She gasped. "I'm an actress!"

"Good for you."

She stomped her foot. "You should be honored to be in my presence!"

I rolled my eyes. "Sweetie, I don't even watch TV."

She shrieked. "How dare you!"

"Do your followers pay your hospital bills?" I asked sweetly.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

Raphael finished with her quickly.

"You're fine," he said flatly.

She stomped out, muttering insults.

Raphael grabbed my wrist again and dragged me outside into the hospital's small garden.

I still had the bouquet in my arms.

He was breathing hard.

"I. Said. No."

I met his gaze evenly.

"Think about it. You have until tomorrow."

I shoved the flowers against his chest before turning on my heel and walking away.

Let him think about it.

He didn't have much time.

Neither did I.