The bath chamber was hot.
Hot with steam, hot with perfume, and hot with the kind of tension that made Vivienne want to drown herself in the tub just to escape the air.
The walls were painted in cream and gold, and the air was heavy with rose and jasmine oils. The scent should have been calming, heavenly even, but to Vivienne, it was suffocating. It felt like she was trapped inside a bottle of perfume someone forgot to open for ten years. The marble floor gleamed like a mirror, the water shimmered like melted silk, and floating roses covered the surface.
Genevieve had outdone herself this time. She was smiling as she poured another bottle of oil into the steaming bath, the kind that probably cost two years of her pay. The water turned into a pool of gold and red.
