"Sometimes trust blinds us so much that we can't see the truth"
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After being dragged to some boring dinner meeting, Scarlet meets Jackson Vanderbilt. From leaving dinner early to being kicked out her apartment, Jackson was by Scarlet's side. What...
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Jackson drops me off at some salon. Without saying anything, he gestures to me to get off.
I grab my dress and walk inside. How is he just going to drop me off somewhere, where I don't know what I'm supposed to do.
As I walk in, I'm welcomed by a group of snobby, model-bodied bitches. All of them looked stuck-up. Here's a reason why I don't go to salons and spas. I felt slightly out of place.
I change into my dress, which is so beautiful. It wasn't too gaudy, and I liked that. Plain was classy. I hated to standout.
Without any introduction, the bitch-clan tells me to follow them. I follow them to a room with a hair-wash chair and a bunch of other things that I didn't care to look at.
They sit me down and begin to wash my hair. I close my eyes and think back to that... scene in the fitting room. Holy shit.
When he whispered in my ear, I swear I could have orgasmed right there. The way his lips crashed onto mine without any warning made me weak to my knees.
I'm falling a lot quicker than I'd like to admit.
The bitch-clan, who has yet to tell me any names, finishes washing my hair and then begins to blow dry it. The fact that it's taking 3 girls to do this is hilarious. I would've done this by myself— for free!
They don't ask me about what hairstyle I want and just do whatever they want. At first I was going to say something, but then I just kept my mouth shut. That's something my parents taught me: just go with what people are doing and don't say anything.
After what feels like forever, my hair is done. It's pulled up into a beautiful low bun with a braid going from the side partition to the bun. Small portions of my hair are curled and let free.
Next they do my makeup. After a bit of foundation, blush, and lipstick, I'm ready. I look at the time and it's 4 pm. Holy shit, I've been here for hours.
I take a look at myself in the mirror. A smile forms upon my lips. Who knew I could look so good?
I sit back down since I don't know what I'm supposed to do. My phone dings, it's Jackson.
Jackson: Come outside.
Bland, but what did I expect?
I walk outside to see a beautiful car. It wasn't Jackson's usual Mercedes, it was a Range Rover— again black. I'm guessing that's his favorite color?
I walk over to it, and a man in his mid forties pops out and opens the back door for me.
"Ms. Thompson, Mr. Vanderbilt is waiting for you at his home," The man said, his voice low and kind, "I'm Daniel, Mr. Vanderbilt's driver."
