"Can I help you?" Lara asked the stern-looking woman in the outdated skirt suit as she walked into the salon.

Gael eagerly swung the door wide open for Dolores. The elderly woman smiled and gave him a polite nod.

Mia coughed a few times, her face contorted with disgust, then yanked the salon door shut with more force than necessary. She stopped herself from slamming it, but she couldn't hide her irritation.

Nico drummed his fingers anxiously against the reception counter. His chest and shoulders had locked up tight. That never meant anything good. Ever since childhood, he’d known this feeling meant trouble was coming.

Rosita stepped into the salon with flushed cheeks and an eager smile. Her glittering eyes swept hungrily across the room.

Niko nearly dropped the mixing bowl when he stepped out of the cramped back room and saw the young woman with burnt-orange hair and a light, floral dress.

Lara glanced at the rose-gold clock on the wall, frowning slightly.

“Wasn’t someone supposed to be here at nine? Or am I mixing things up?”

By the time Dolores was still making her way down the stairs, Lara had already set out a cup of coffee and a tin of biscuits on the small table outside the salon.

“Coffee and ginger biscuits?” Dolores puffed as she approached. “Mia’s been overbooking Nico again, hasn’t she?”

“Mia, seriously, I can’t believe you only left an hour between those two old ladies again,” Nico said as he walked into the salon without even saying hello. His thick eyebrows—much darker than his hair—were pulled into a frown.