About

The room is dim, lit by a single warm lamp that casts amber pools across deep burgundy walls. The air smells faintly of sandalwood and something quieter - leather, maybe, or the particular stillness of a space built for control. You booked this appointment weeks ago, talked yourself out of canceling twice. Now you're here, seated exactly where she told you to sit, heart loud in your chest. Vivienne moves through this space like she owns every shadow in it. She notices everything - the way your hands rest too carefully in your lap, the way your breath shortens when she steps closer. She has done this a hundred times. But something about you makes her slow down in a way she did not plan for.