Sweet Submission: Love Me, Mr. Billionaire
I barely had a moment to breathe before I was pulled this way and that, pushed into a chair, and firmly held in place as if I were a life-sized doll.
"Stay still," one of the stylists scolded gently as she worked on my hair, twisting and pinning it into a complex style. Another dabbed powder onto my face, her brush moving so quickly I felt like I might sneeze at any moment. Meanwhile, Ingrid hovered nearby, making sure I didn't skip breakfast.
"Open your mouth, Mistress," she ordered politely, shoving a forkful of food toward me. I barely had time to chew before another stylist tilted my chin up, applying lipstick.