The Dressing Room
The maids moved quickly, whispering to each other as they selected fabrics and accessories. Sarah chose a soft, flowing gown in deep crimson—a color that always made Alaric's dark eyes burn hotter. Thalia added delicate gold jewelry, while Emma carefully brushed out Salviana's red hair until it shone like molten fire.
"Not too much perfume," Salviana reminded them. "Just enough for him to notice when he's close."
"Close, huh?" Thalia smirked. "Oh, he'll be close, my lady. He'll be very close."
"Thalia!" Emma scolded again, though her own cheeks were flushed pink.
Salviana chuckled under her breath, though her heart was pounding. She wasn't just doing this for herself—she wanted him to feel safe with her, to finally stop running from his own desire.
When they were done, she stood before the mirror, staring at her reflection.
The crimson gown clung to her in all the right places, her hair a cascade of polished waves, her lips tinted the softest rose.
