Gianna | Dior Pov !!exclusive!!

I lean forward, tracing the edge of my lip with the tip of a brush, steady as a surgeon. In the reflection, my eyes are already doing the work—that half-lidded, I-know-something-you-don’t gaze that built my name. But tonight, the secret isn’t a script. It’s the silence in the room.

“Ready when you are, Gianna.”

Because I do.

I set the brush down. The velvet of the robe is warm against my shoulders. It’s my favorite one—deep crimson, the color of a dare. I run a hand through my hair, letting the waves fall just so. Every move is deliberate. Every breath is a cue. gianna dior pov