The next morning, Lila stood by the window of her apartment, a cup of half-sipped coffee in hand, watching the Los Angeles skyline wake up. The city buzzed below, unaware of the quiet obsession unraveling inside her.
She hadn't slept much.
The scent from the bar still haunted her like a song stuck in her head. It was sharper now—more defined, as if her senses had memorized it. That brief moment, the voice behind her, the heat of his presence—he had been there. Close enough to touch. And yet again, like smoke, he had slipped through her fingers.
She had no name. No face. Just a scent. But it was more than that now—it was a feeling.
Piper strolled into the apartment in her usual whirlwind of energy, balancing a laptop, a matcha latte, and a half-eaten croissant. "Okay, I did some digging."
Lila looked up. "Digging?"
Piper dropped the laptop on the table and flipped it open. "That cologne—it's not just expensive. It's rare. Imported. I think it's Obscura Noire by Gallant—only sold in select cities. Mostly worn by people in... you guessed it—private wealth, luxury real estate, top-tier execs, or the type of men who fly out for wine tastings in Tuscany."
Lila arched an eyebrow. "So basically... someone completely unreachable."
"Maybe." Piper smirked. "But maybe not. Look—Gallant has a VIP registry. It's private, obviously, but I found a press article from last year. They hosted a tasting at a hotel in Beverly Hills—The Elmore. One of the guests quoted was a guy named Rowan Vale."
Lila blinked. The name sent a chill down her spine—not because she recognized it, but because it suddenly sounded like him.
"Rowan Vale," she murmured, testing it out on her tongue. "What does he do?"
Piper turned the screen. A photo popped up from a business magazine: a sharply dressed man in a navy suit, looking away from the camera on a rooftop with downtown LA sprawling behind him. The caption read:
> Rowan Vale, CEO of Vale & Knox Private Investments.
Known for his reclusive nature, Vale rarely makes public appearances outside of philanthropic circles and private events.
Lila stared at the photo. She couldn't see his eyes—just a side profile, perfectly styled hair, clean-shaven jawline, and an energy that practically radiated distance. Cold, polished, unreachable.
Her stomach twisted. What if it was him?
The thought terrified her.
She barely had a stable job. She was riding the edge of broke. And he? He was the kind of man who probably had a private driver, an assistant who answered his texts, and a wardrobe that cost more than her student loans.
"Lila," Piper said gently, "you okay?"
Lila sat down slowly, her fingers trembling around the coffee cup. "What am I even doing, Pipe? Chasing a scent? Looking up CEOs? This is insane."
Piper reached across the table. "No. This is curiosity. This is you feeling something again. Don't kill that just because you think he's out of reach. Let's at least find out if it's him. Then you can decide if you want to walk away."
Lila looked at the photo again. That name. That face. It might not be him—but it might be. And if it was…
She exhaled. "Okay. What's our next move?"
Piper grinned like she'd been waiting for that question all morning. "We're going to The Elmore."
---
The Elmore Hotel was everything Lila expected it to be—elegant, quiet, and intimidating. It sat like a crown jewel on a slope above Beverly Hills, glass and stone gleaming under the morning sun. The kind of place where everything smelled like polished marble and understated wealth.
Lila stepped through the revolving doors, heart hammering against her ribs. Piper walked beside her, overly confident in heels that clacked like a warning down the marble lobby floor.
Lila glanced around, half-hoping for that scent—his scent—to hit her again. But there was nothing. Just fresh florals and espresso.
She swallowed. "What if this is a waste of time?"
Piper shrugged. "Then we order overpriced tea, fake an Instagram post, and leave. But maybe—just maybe—he's here."
They headed to the hotel lounge, tucked behind gold-trimmed arches and velvet dividers. Lila's eyes moved across the room—men in tailored suits, women with sleek blowouts and espresso martinis. Everyone looked like they belonged.
She didn't.
Still, she scanned the air, desperate for even a trace of that haunting fragrance. But every scent here blended into luxury so seamlessly it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began.
They sat. Waited. An hour passed.
And then—
A breeze. Just a faint one, carrying through the room like a secret. There it was. That same smoky, leathery signature. Fainter now. Like a ghost brushing past her skin.
Lila stood up abruptly. Piper followed her eyes as she traced the scent toward the elevator at the back of the lounge.
"Wait—he was here," Lila whispered.
One of the hotel staff passed by, and Lila stepped forward with shaky courage.
"Sorry—um, the man who just got in that elevator. The one in the navy suit. Do you know his name?"
The concierge offered a polite smile. "I'm afraid we don't share guest information, miss."
Of course they didn't.
But Piper, ever bold, leaned in. "We're here for a private meeting with Mr. Vale. I believe we may have just missed him?"
The staff hesitated. Just a blink.
Lila caught it.
It was him.
"I believe Mr. Vale has already left the premises," the concierge replied smoothly. "His car just departed."
Lila's breath caught.
So close.
Again.
Piper sighed, slipping her sunglasses on dramatically. "Alright. Worth a shot."
They exited the lounge, but Lila lingered at the hotel's glass doors, watching the traffic outside. Somewhere out there, Julian Vale—if that's who he was—was gliding through the city, completely unaware that someone was chasing nothing but the ghost of him.
The scent had been real. The timing, exact. He had been there. They'd shared the same air. And still, she had no voice, no name spoken aloud, no eyes locked across a room.
Only space.
And scent.
And a feeling she couldn't shake.
---
Water poured over her shoulders, hot and steady, fogging the glass and muffling the sounds of the world outside her bathroom walls. The city pulsed somewhere beyond her window, always alive—always moving—while Lila stood still.
She pressed her forehead to the cool tile, eyes closed.
"Lila Penrose."
She said it aloud.
Soft. Doubting.
"Lila Marie Penrose."
She tried again. Firmer. Like she was anchoring herself to the world, trying to remember who she was before this whole scent-chasing madness took over.
Graduate of Business Administration. University of California, Los Angeles. Fluent in spreadsheets, job rejection emails, and carefully worded cover letters. She had dreams—practical ones. A good job. Stability. Her own office one day, maybe with a view.
She wasn't the kind of girl who chased strangers through hotel lounges, reading into ghost scents and thinking about men she'd never seen.
And yet…
Here she was.
A bubble of laughter escaped her throat. But it wasn't joyful. It was tired. Conflicted.
"What am I even doing?" she whispered into the steam.
She should be job hunting. She should be pounding the pavement with her resume, making calls, showing up early to networking events in itchy blazers. Not falling down rabbit holes over a stranger whose name she wasn't even sure of.
Rowan Vale.
It sounded like something out of a novel.
Maybe that's all he was. Fiction she'd made real with the help of perfume and longing.
She reached for her shampoo, pouring it absently into her palm. The scent reminded her of clean linens and lemon—not even close to his. It grounded her a little.
Maybe Piper was right. Maybe she needed to let it go. Let him go. Whoever he was.
But what if this feeling—this connection—meant something?
What if walking away meant losing the one thing that had actually made her feel in months?
She rubbed her hands over her face, frustrated.
She didn't have answers. She didn't even have a direction.
Just a name.
A scent.
And a heart that wouldn't sit still.
---
By the time Thursday morning rolled around, Lila had resolved—sort of—to take a step back. She couldn't keep chasing ghosts. Her savings were thinning. Her inbox was still full of polite rejections and "we'll keep your résumé on file" auto-responses.
So when Piper forwarded her a part-time listing for a boutique bakery in Silver Lake, Lila didn't hesitate. She needed something. Even if it wasn't her dream job, it was something to do. Somewhere to be.
And the smell of cinnamon and fresh bread was a lot more forgiving than the sterile buzz of LinkedIn.
The bakery was called Sugar Bloom, painted soft mint green with a rose gold logo that sparkled faintly in the morning sun. Inside, the air was warm and sweet—vanilla, honey, espresso. A place where everything felt light, like it didn't take itself too seriously.
It was owned by a woman named Greta, a former pastry chef from New York who'd traded Michelin stars for almond croissants and a yoga mat. She liked Lila immediately.
"You've got the face of someone who's tasted disappointment and didn't let it ruin her smile," Greta had said during the interview, wiping powdered sugar off her apron. "That's the kind of energy I need behind my counter."
And so, just like that, Lila became the new girl behind the pastry case.
She found a rhythm in the simplicity—waking before sunrise, tying her apron, learning how to make the perfect flat white. Her hands smelled like butter and espresso grounds. Her hair, always slightly dusted with flour, curled tighter from the warmth of the ovens.
For a while, it was enough.
Customers came and went—some regulars, some tourists, all distracted by the glow of their phones or the scent of fresh peach galettes. She'd smile, take names, hand out pastries wrapped in parchment.
But every now and then, her eyes would flick toward the door when the bell chimed—just in case.
Once or twice, a man would walk in, sharply dressed, wearing the kind of scent that made her heart skip for half a second. But it was never him.
Still, she tried to let it be enough. She folded resumes into her bag and sent out new applications during quiet afternoons. She wiped down the counter with purpose and tried to remind herself that she wasn't waiting. She was living.
And yet, some nights, when the bakery lights dimmed and the last espresso machine hissed into silence, she'd step outside into the dusk, breathing in the warm LA air—just hoping to catch a trace of that cologne on the breeze.
Just one more time.
---
The lunch rush had just ended. Lila wiped her hands on her apron, flour clinging to her fingertips like snow. The smell of brown sugar and browned butter clung to the air. Her back ached, but there was something satisfying about the ache—honest work. Tangible.
Piper had texted three times already that morning. Probably sending memes. Probably checking in. But Lila hadn't opened them yet. She needed quiet.
Greta passed her a lavender lemonade and nodded toward the back. "Take ten. You've earned it."
Lila slid into the corner of the staff room with her phone, letting the cold drink cool her palms. Finally, she tapped open her inbox. A few ads, one rejection from a marketing agency in Burbank… and then—
Subject: Application Follow-Up – Vale & Knox Private Investments
Her breath stalled.
She blinked once. Then again.
That name.
Vale.
She opened the email slowly, scanning.
> Dear Ms. Penrose,
Thank you for your previous application to the Executive Administrative Associate role at Vale & Knox Private Investments. We apologize for the delayed response.
Your résumé has been placed on our shortlist for a second round of private evaluations. If you are still available and interested, we would be pleased to schedule a virtual meeting with our internal review team next week.
Please reply to confirm your continued interest by Friday at 4 PM.
Warm regards,
Mira Caldwell
HR Director, Vale & Knox
Lila just stared.
The email was dated two days ago.
She hadn't even remembered applying to them. Back then, she'd sent out dozens—hundreds—of applications into the void. But now that name felt like a puzzle piece locking into place.
Vale.
The same one.
Her heart began a slow, nervous pound.
Could it be... him?
She searched her old documents. Found the cover letter. The résumé. The date. Sure enough, she'd applied during that first desperate wave after graduation. Before the scent. Before the hotel. Before all of this.
The firm was real. The role, attainable. And now... they were inviting her in.
Her thoughts tangled fast—this couldn't be coincidence. But what if it wasn't him? Or worse—what if it was, and he recognized her from nothing at all? Or didn't care?
Was she ready for that?
She glanced out the staff door toward the bakery counter, where sunlight danced across the pastry case and the quiet hum of normal life waited patiently.
And then she looked back at the email.
The cursor blinked in the reply field like it was asking the question out loud:
Do you want to be found?
---
The bakery was slow now, the hum of the late afternoon sinking in as the last customers drifted out with their to-go bags. Lila wiped down the counters again, even though she had already done it. Her mind kept drifting back to the email—Vale & Knox. The job. The offer. Him.
Piper had arrived a little while ago, taking a seat on the stool by the window, eyes on her phone and occasionally glancing up, catching Lila's far-off expression.
"You're staring at that counter like it's a Ouija board," Piper remarked, setting her iced latte down with a little too much emphasis. "Something on your mind?"
Lila hesitated. "I got an email."
Piper raised an eyebrow, already sensing something was off. "From who?"
Lila chewed on her lip. "Vale & Knox."
Piper's eyes widened, and she leaned forward in the chair, her usual nonchalant attitude replaced by curious intensity. "Wait, Vale & Knox? You mean, Vale & Knox as in, the private investment firm?"
Lila nodded slowly, still processing. "Yeah. Apparently, they want to move me to the next round of interviews for an Executive Admin role. I… I don't even remember applying. I mean, I know I applied to a lot of places, but I never thought this one—this one—would come through."
Piper grinned, amused. "Are you telling me the company whose name sounds like it belongs in a Hollywood action movie actually emailed you back?"
Lila stared at the screen of her phone, feeling her pulse pick up. "Yes! And they want to interview me. I'm not sure if it's real, though. I don't even remember filling out their application. The name Vale—it's so... familiar, you know?"
Piper's grin widened, knowing exactly where Lila's thoughts were heading. "Oh, I know why it's familiar. That's the name of the elusive CEO you've been lowkey fantasizing about since the night you first walked into that bar in Santa Monica. I bet you didn't even connect the dots."
Lila flushed and shook her head. "I don't know, Pipe. I can't be sure. The name is just... so common. And—well—there are lots of Vales in the world, right? It might be a coincidence."
Piper raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Lila's internal tug-of-war. "A coincidence? You really think so? Lila, honey, I've seen you look at guys the way you looked at that cologne. Trust me, this isn't a coincidence."
Lila bit her lip again, feeling the weight of Piper's teasing tone. "But what if I'm wrong? What if I'm just imagining it? What if it's not him? I don't even know what I'd do if I showed up for an interview and—" She exhaled sharply, her hands gripping the edge of the counter. "What if he does know I'm the one who's been sniffing around like a weirdo?"
Piper let out a dramatic sigh. "Lila, you need to calm down. There's no way Rowan Vale is sitting there in his fancy leather chair thinking about you and your desperate, romantic scent searches." She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. "If you're going to mess this up, at least do it with style."
Lila shot her a look. "This is serious, Piper."
"I know it is," Piper said, her voice softening just a little. "But you've been in your head about this guy for weeks. Now you have a chance to meet him. I'm not saying you should walk in all wide-eyed and lovesick—though, that might actually work on him—but this is a professional thing. You need a job, Lila. And this could be your shot. Don't let the fantasy cloud the opportunity."
Lila thought about it, her mind spinning. "But the role. It's like... high-level stuff. CEO's assistant, managing big projects. That's not... me. I'm barely holding it together with the bakery. What if I fail? What if I don't belong there?"
Piper gave her a pointed look, leaning back and crossing her arms. "Look at me. You belong everywhere. Especially in places where you least expect it. And as for the 'fantasy'? Don't overthink it. Whether he's the guy you've imagined or some cold, rich CEO who doesn't care about you—this could be a great opportunity. You're too talented to waste time on what might've been a fluke."
Lila took a deep breath, staring down at her phone again. The offer was still there, sitting in her inbox like a treasure. The chance to meet the mysterious Rowan Vale. To step into a world that felt so far removed from the cozy bakery counter she had come to know.
But was it all just a coincidence? Or fate playing with her in the way only fate could?
"Fine," Lila said, her voice steady but unsure. "I'll do it. I'll reply. But I'll keep my head on straight. No daydreaming."
Piper smiled, clearly pleased. "Good girl. Just remember to wear something that says 'I'm a professional, not a person with a deep obsession for cologne'."
Lila rolled her eyes, but Piper's teasing smile was infectious. "I'm serious, Pipe. This is a big deal."
"Oh, I know." Piper winked. "But who knows? Maybe Rowan Vale will be the one getting obsessed over you."
---