Mrs. Henley carefully helps Vierva slip into the exquisite gown, the rich emerald fabric shimmering like the scales of a mermaid as it drapes elegantly over her curves. The bodice fits like a second skin, the delicate lace trim highlighting the swell of her breasts and the slim, toned line of her waist. As Mrs. Henley zips up the back, the skirt falls into a graceful A-line cut, the short train fluttering softly behind her as she moves.
Vierva watches in awe as her reflection transforms before her eyes, the once plain and unremarkable girl now a vision of breathtaking beauty. The gown amplifies her natural elegance, making her look every inch the princess she always dreamed of being. She can hardly believe it's really her looking back at her from the mirror.
I feel like Cinderella before the ball, she thinks to herself, a giddy little laugh escaping her lips. Wonder if I'll turn back into a pumpkin at midnight too.
Mrs. Henley smiles at Vierva's reflection, her eyes twinkling with a knowing glint. "You look absolutely radiant, my dear," she says softly, adjusting the lace on the bodice to sit just so. "Mr. Dante won't be able to take his eyes off you."
She turns Vierva around and guides her to sit at the vanity, brushing out the silken locks until they fall in loose, glamorous waves around her shoulders. She then takes out an array of pots and potions, a selection of cosmetics that would make even the most discerning of Hollywood stars envious.
"Now, let's do your makeup," she says, picking up a brush and turning to Vierva with a warm smile. "We want you to look like a goddess tonight."
As Mrs. Henley applies the products with skilled, practiced hands, Vierva can't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. She's never been to anything like a real dinner, let alone one where she's the guest of honor. But as she watches her reflection slowly transform, the girl in the mirror looking more confident and more beautiful with each passing moment, she feels a growing sense of excitement and nervousness blossoming within her chest.
Dante enters the room just as Mrs. Henley is putting the finishing touches on Vierva's makeup. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in the breathtaking sight before him. Vierva sits at the vanity, her back to him, the emerald green gown a stunning contrast against her porcelain skin. The lace at the back of the bodice is partially unzipped, revealing the delicate curve of her spine and the graceful slope of her shoulder blades.
She's exquisite, Dante thinks to himself, his heart pounding in his chest.
Mrs. Henley looks up at his reflection in the mirror, a discreet smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She gives a small inclination of her head, silently acknowledging his presence, before turning her attention back to her task. She dips a brush into a pot of shimmering gold powder and dusts it lightly across Vierva's cheekbones, highlighting the elegant structure of her face.
Dante takes a step into the room, his eyes never leaving Vierva's reflection. He can see the moment she becomes aware of his presence, her shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly before she turns her head slowly to look at him over her shoulder.
Their eyes meet in the mirror, and Dante feels a jolt run through him at the look he sees in those green depths. It's a mix of nerves and excitement, of trepidation and anticipation. He knows she's feeling the weight of the occasion, the magnitude of the moment. But there's something else there too - a spark of defiance, a hint of rebellion that makes his blood run hot.
She's going to be a challenge, he realizes, a dark thrill running through him. But oh, will she be worth it.
"Mrs. Henley, you may leave us now," Dante says, his voice low and quiet. It's not a request, but a command, and the older woman rises promptly from her seat.
"Yes, Mr. Dante," she says, giving a small curtsy before exiting the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Dante walks closer to the vanity, his eyes never leaving Vierva's reflection. He comes to a stop behind her, close enough that she can feel the heat radiating off his body, the whisper of his breath against the back of her neck.