Disclaimer – My parents, being as clueless as they are, refused to let me change my name to Eoin Colfer. So I don't own Artemis Fowl. Sadly. Unfortunately. Maybe I should just let you read now.
The astringent odor of Chanel No.5 lingered in the car. It was chemical. Overpowering. Suffocating. Artemis rolled the tinted windows down, attempting to coax fresh air into the Bentley. The smell refused to clear. It stayed there, mocking him.
Artemis sighed. If he had been a violent person, he would have punched something. His internal debate raged on. To marry her or not to marry her. To fulfill his obligation as her fiancée and spend his entire life trying to put up with her, or withdraw...at the price of a flurry of tears, protest, and another one of Minerva's fabled tantrums.
She was brilliant, true. Stunning? Unquestionably. But she reminded Artemis of the person he used to be. The person he never wanted to be. The resemblance was too close for comfort.
Artemis opened the car door with a metallic click, and stepped into the night, shivering lightly. It wasn't picturesque. Far from it. The fog and pollution blocked whatever could be seen of the stars. The air smelled of smoke and gasoline. And ...you guessed it, Chanel No.5.
Artemis sighed. A heavy bittersweet sound. Fresh air continued to elude him. And then she came. His breath of fresh air.