The two women worked meticulously, styling Rosé as though she were royalty. They slid her into a satin black gown, one that hugged her curves like it had been painted on her skin. The neckline plunged modestly, but enough to tempt, and the high slit up her thigh added a sinful edge to her otherwise delicate beauty.
Her heels were tall and elegant, the kind that made her legs look a mile long and promised silent power in every step.
Her dirty blonde hair was curled and pinned back in soft waves that framed her face. Her lips, lightly glossed, curled in slight disbelief as she looked at herself in the mirror. She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. This version of her, confident, alluring, dangerous in silk, was something else entirely.
She inhaled softly and made her way dow
