Aimee stood in front of the full-length mirror, the cool light of the evening casting a soft glow across her reflection. She took a moment to admire herself, her eyes tracing the sleek lines of the black mini crop top and low-waist jeans that hugged her body with just the right balance of casual comfort and bold allure. Her fingers lightly brushed over the soft fabric of the top, adjusting it with a delicate touch, her movements slow and purposeful. The outfit fit her like a second skin, the tailored cut of the crop top accentuating her figure, while the jeans molded to her hips and legs, making her feel powerful, confident, and undeniably ready to take on the world.
She ran her hands down the soft material of her black crop top and jeans, savoring the sensation as it clung to her form. The outfit was a statement in itself—simple yet striking, the kind of black that exuded confidence without needing any embellishments. Aimee knew that this color had a certain power to it—an allure that was impossible to ignore. It was the color of sophistication, of strength, of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to own it.
She tilted her head slightly, admiring the way the top emphasized the shape of her silhouette. The neckline, subtly plunging, balanced perfectly between daring and sophisticated, revealing just enough to tease without giving too much away, creating an aura of intrigue. It was the kind of neckline that made a statement—a glimpse of skin that left the imagination lingering, just enough to leave a lasting impression without feeling overly exposed. She couldn't help but appreciate how the cut of the top highlighted her collarbones and the curve of her shoulders, drawing attention to the elegant line of her figure.
Next, she reached for her signature red lipstick. The sleek tube of color slid easily in her hand, the deep, bold shade mirroring the intensity of the dress she wore. She expertly swept the lipstick across her lips, her gaze steady in the mirror as she carefully shaped her pout. Each stroke of the wand seemed to add another layer of power, a perfect finishing touch to an already striking appearance. The shade was flawless, matching her dress exactly—a perfect harmony of crimson that made her look as if she had stepped right out of a dream, or perhaps, out of the pages of a movie.
Aimee pursed her lips, admiring the final result. The lipstick added a sharpness to her features, drawing attention to her mouth, making it impossible for anyone to look away when she spoke. She didn't need to say anything to command the room—her appearance alone was enough.
Her hair, a cascade of dark waves, was styled in a way that framed her face softly, a few strands falling effortlessly over her shoulders. She ran a hand through it one last time, the silky texture slipping through her fingers. The curls added just the right amount of softness to balance out the boldness of her outfit.
She took one last look at herself in the mirror, making sure everything was flawless, before grabbing her Bag and heading out the door to Claudia's mansion.
Aimee stepped out of the shuttle, the evening air cool against her skin as she straightened her mini off-shoulder black crop top. It clung to her body perfectly, the fabric hugging her curves in all the right places. The top's simple elegance was matched by the distressed jeans that rested just below her waist, fitting snugly and comfortably as they complemented her every movement. A bright red bag hung from her shoulder, large and unmistakable, its vivid color an intentional contrast against the dark tones of her outfit. The bag's size and bold hue made a statement all on its own, drawing a few more eyes in her direction as she made her way up the driveway.
As she stepped onto the gravel, her heels clicked softly, the sound a rhythmic cadence against the quiet of the evening. Aimee could feel the gaze of passersby like a steady pull, her every step seemingly followed by the attention of both the older and younger residents of the neighborhood. It was something she'd grown accustomed to—the way her presence commanded a moment of pause from people, whether they were ready for it or not.
An older couple, sitting on their porch just a few houses down, stopped their conversation as she passed. The woman's gaze lingered, an approving glance that spoke volumes. She studied Aimee's outfit—a young woman bold enough to wear something so simple, yet so confident. Her husband, a silver-haired man with glasses perched on his nose, gave Aimee a quick once-over before his eyes met his wife's, a silent acknowledgment of the young woman's striking appearance. There was something about the way they looked at her—not with judgment, but with an unspoken admiration.
Not far ahead, a group of teenagers stood by the mailbox, their laughter filling the air in that carefree way only young people can manage. As Aimee walked closer, one of the girls leaned in toward her friends, whispering something under her breath while casting a quick glance at Aimee's outfit. One of the boys, lounging casually against the fence with a relaxed posture, caught her eye, his gaze flicking down to her red bag before quickly darting away. His interest was clear, though he tried to play it cool. The others, sensing the shift in attention, subtly followed suit, their eyes tracing the sleekness of her top, the way it clung to her, and the bold contrast of her accessories.
Aimee felt the weight of those eyes, a familiar feeling she'd learned to navigate with ease. She didn't mind. In fact, she almost reveled in it, a slight smirk playing at the corner of her lips. It wasn't about vanity—no, it was something deeper, a quiet acknowledgment of her own power. The power of being noticed, of making an entrance without even trying.
**************At Claudia's House***********
When she reached the entrance, the door swung open with the soft creak of hinges, revealing Ana, Claudia's old nanny. The woman's face was etched with suspicion, as always. Her sharp eyes flicked over Aimee, pausing just a moment too long on the red dress.
Ana's eyes flicked over Aimee immediately, scanning her from head to toe. She lingered for a moment too long on the red dress that Aimee wore, her expression unreadable, as if she were piecing together something in her mind. Aimee could feel the scrutiny, the tension in the air thickening with each second that passed. She could almost hear the wheels turning in Ana's head, weighing every detail, every decision. It was as if the older woman knew Aimee's every intention before she even spoke.
"I remember my Claudia having this same exact gown," Ana said suddenly, her voice cool and almost detached. She raised an eyebrow, the suspicion in her eyes sharpening. "Funny, I don't think I've seen it on her in a while."
Aimee stood tall, meeting Ana's gaze with a calm smile. She could feel the sharpness in Ana's words, the way they sliced through the air, but she refused to let it rattle her.
Aimee's lips curled into a tight smile, not letting Ana's jabs affect her. "It's nice to see you too, Old Ana," she replied, her tone sweet but laced with a hint of sarcasm.
The words were smooth, almost too smooth, and her smile never faltered as she let the moment hang in the air for just a beat too long. She could practically feel the tension between them, an invisible thread tightening with every passing second.
Ana's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression barely shifting, but Aimee saw the flicker of irritation behind those sharp eyes. The older woman wasn't used to being on the receiving end of a remark like that. Ana had always been a figure of authority in Claudia's life, a woman who had raised her and who still carried herself with an air of superiority. But Aimee wasn't the naïve girl who had once been intimidated by her sharp words and cool demeanor. She was different now—more self-assured, more confident in her skin.
Just then, a voice filled the room, deep and warm with authority.
"Aimee!"
It was Mr. Pedro, Claudia's father, who came striding toward her with an easy smile. His presence was commanding, a man who had the air of someone accustomed to control, to influence, and yet, there was always a warmth about him, a softness in his demeanor that made people feel at ease around him. His tall figure moved effortlessly through the space, his tailored suit sharp and impeccable, but it was the kindness in his eyes that immediately put people at ease. Even in the presence of so much grandeur and wealth, he had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the room.
Aimee, who had been standing a little too still under Ana's scrutinizing gaze, couldn't help but feel a rush of relief at the sound of his voice. The tension that had built up in the space suddenly seemed to dissipate as Mr. Pedro approached her. She turned toward him, her smile widening, though there was an almost imperceptible flutter in her chest. She had always admired him—he was the kind of man who had everything, and yet never made you feel small.
"Aimee!" he repeated, his voice carrying the warmth that made it impossible to ignore him. His eyes shone with the ease of familiarity, as though the years that had passed since their last meeting had done nothing to diminish the affection he had for her. "It's been far too long."
"Mr. Pedro, it's so good to see you again," Aimee said, her voice sweet and polite, her words carefully measured as she took a step forward to meet him. She made sure to stand just a little straighter, feeling the subtle shift of energy in the room as Mr. Pedro's presence became more pronounced.
"Always a pleasure, Aimee," Mr. Pedro replied warmly, his tone thick with genuine affection. Without a second thought, he reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle pat, a fatherly gesture.
Before Aimee could respond, a slight, hesitant noise echoed from the grand staircase, drawing her attention. She turned just in time to see Claudia appear, limping as she descended the stairs, holding onto the banister for support. There was a soft, quiet grace to the way Claudia moved, despite the obvious discomfort. Her smile, though warm, didn't quite reach her eyes.
Well, if it isn't the cripple," Aimee murmured under her breath, just loud enough for herself to hear. The words were spiteful, though disguised beneath the sweetness of her smile.
Claudia reached the bottom of the stairs, still smiling but wincing slightly as she straightened up.
Aimee didn't waste a second. She closed the distance between them and embraced her best friend in an exaggerated hug, one that might have been mistaken for affection if one didn't look too closely.
Claudia pulled back slightly from the hug, her eyes lighting up with excitement as she looked at Aimee. "We have a lot to catch up on," she said, her voice tinged with eagerness. "Guess who's coming back into the States?"
Aimee raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite herself. "Who?" she asked, feigning casual curiosity, though her heart skipped a beat. Claudia's tone, her expression—it all screamed like she was about to drop some big news.
"Martin!" Claudia announced with a dramatic flair.