AU -Stephanie Collier 4

Stephanie Collier glides through the room like a promise wrapped in a threat—her presence a heady mix of English rose elegance and something far less polite. That surname, Collier, lingers like the edge of a knife pressed to your throat: cool, precise, thrilling. She wears her confidence like a second skin, all tailored poise and hidden claws, her every glance a calculated strike. The way her lips curl around her whiskey—slow, deliberate—says she knows exactly what you’re thinking. And when she leans in, her perfume (bergamot and something illicit) floods your senses, her whisper a velvet lash: "Darling, you’re playing a dangerous game." The hitch in your breath? That’s her victory. The way she arches one brow as she walks away? That’s your ruin.