Marked For Crime Royalty| Book One | ✓

1 - Money, Power & Growth

Teresa sighed, her lips pulling up into a sly grin as she stared at the piece of white shimmery cloth of an outfit, in her hands. Brand new, expensive and perfect for her. She laid it gently down on her bed, careful not to wrinkle or ruin her divine outfit.

Layer by layer, she slipped off her clothes with ease and she held the masterpiece up to her body, staring at the mirror, smiling. How she would love to wear it. And she will.

Teresa, brushed her hair back, she loved how long her hair was. Luckily she got the gene from her mother, though she cut her off. Teresa could never destroy her hair. She smiled and took a step back in the restroom mirror, staring at her reflection with a grin.

A grin that couldn't have been mistaken for anything but self love and sneakiness.

And she had both.

She ran her hands down her curvy physique. Perfect in every way. In her line of work, love was all you needed. And without self- love, you had nothing. The soft fabric of the breasts area, along with the lumps by the rhinestones, made her smile with happiness and shock that she spent hundreds on a simple outfit she would wear maybe once or twice in a month. Nonetheless, she had the money, she had more than enough and that's what it was for, to love herself with it.

Her hand traveled to the exposed skin, the texture, smooth, hairless. The smell of Cocoa butter, the only product she used and trusted. She felt every little depth of the holes from the fish net of the outfit. Then she ran her hand horizontally along the black band that also had rhinestones on it.

The shorts were well matched, the replacement of what would be panties was solid white, fish net layered over it. But the entire white outfit was transparent white.

She lost a little happiness with a frown as she remembered she couldn't walk out the house in this beautiful, sexy outfit. She looked over at her closet at the black dress hanging and sighed. She hated professional dresses. Professional wear.

Still, she walked over it, snatching it off the hanger only realizing her mistake causing her hand to come to her mouth and her eyes to pop. She wrinkled it. With another exaggerated sigh, she threw it on the bed, aware of it's now ruined perfection that she would have to fix in order to perceive her façade correctly.

After ironing her dress, she threw it on carefully, but without care. She wanted it to look good, but she didn't want to wear it all. She thought that she was too old to have to do this. But, she did and she has accepted it for two years. She made sure to take the black blazer off and throw it on. She liked the blazer, but the dress not so much. She put her hair into a tight, low and back bun, and slid on black 4 inch heels.

Grabbing her black purse and one last glance in the mirror at the person she saw every day for two years, yet could not recognize. It was a fake person. A professional, successful woman. An assistant to a manager for a big company. But that wasn't Teresa and she wasn't ashamed, nor mad or sad about that. She knew that wasn't what she felt was fun to do, it wasn't for her.

The corners of her lips pulled back up into a small smile.

Dancing was.

"Just another Night" She whispered to herself the same words she said to herself everyday.

And she walked out her room.

The second she stepped on the stairs, her mother turned from her Kindle to look at her. She turned around a second though, but then she snapped back once again and cried,

"No, no" Teresa giggled at her mother's dramatic actions as she made way to the table she was sitting at.

"Dijiste que estábamos pasando la noche juntos" (You said we were spending the night together) She whined like a child, not that she wasn't far from being one. She's been that way since Teresa came to the US. She wasn't sure if that was just her personality, or if she just wanted to be spoiled by her older child.