The door closed behind them.
The suite.
Long massage table at the center. Dim, warm-toned lighting. Towels folded at the foot. The scent of something botanical in the diffuser that was neither cheap nor aggressive. Small table at the side with oil and equipment arranged neatly.
Frau Müller stood just inside the door and turned her face through the room.
"This is nice," she said. Reluctantly. The quality of someone who had prepared to dislike something and found the ground shifting under that preparation.
"Told you."
Veronica was already removing her coat.
"You—" Frau Müller heard fabric moving. "You're taking your clothes off?"
"Full body massage," Veronica said, the easy, unbothered quality of someone for whom this was not complicated. "It's better without clothes. You can keep your underwear on, I don't mind."
"Veronica—"
"Do you trust me or not?"
The question sat in the air.
