The salon door swung open with a faint chime, and out stepped Danelle.
The soft breeze caught her freshly styled hair—luxurious dark curls that cascaded down her back like waves of velvet, bouncing with every step she took. Her makeup was soft but intentional: a dewy glow kissed her cheeks, her lashes curled thick and dark, eyes lined in a way that made their almond shape stand out even more. Her lips—painted a rich, seductive red—matched her gown perfectly.
And that gown… a deep scarlet that hugged her body like it was sewn onto her skin. Satin, sleeveless, and slit high on one thigh, the dress clung to her hourglass figure with sinful precision. The neckline dipped just low enough to hint, not scream. Her heels clicked with every step, sharp and rhythmic, the sound of a woman who owned the world beneath her feet.
She didn't just walk out of that salon.
She emerged.
