Esmeralda sat on her "throne," legs crossed and lazily twirling a glass of red wine between her fingers. Yes, a throne, because that was exactly what she called it, and in her opinion, there was absolutely nothing ridiculous about that. After all, she called herself a queen, and in every sense of the word, she had earned that title. Who else exuded that level of effortless seduction and danger at the same time? Who else had built an entire empire on beauty, manipulation, and control? No one. Simple as that.
Her base reflected that truth perfectly.
