The leather of the backseat sticks faintly to Heidi's skin as she slides into the car. The scent of luxury inside is so thick, it feels almost like she's in a foreign land which technically—she is. It smells of polished wood, faint perfume lingering from the sisters, and that crisp scent money seems to wear like cologne. She adjusts her dress nervously, careful not to crease the fabric Daphne had so dramatically loaned her.
The chauffeur's gloved hands tighten on the wheel. Without needing instruction, he eases the black car forward, the quiet purr of the engine filling the silence. Heidi presses her hands together in her lap, trying not to fidget.
But the silence in this car doesn't last long.
