Another week, another city. The limousine pulled up in front of the hottest nightclub in Las Vegas, and a dapper chauffeur stepped out and came around to open the door for Hunter and Daisy Armstrong.
Hunter stepped out first, donning a sharp, navy Armani suit, with his thick, chestnut hair swept back effortlessly. He turned and held out his hand for his wife, who stepped carefully onto the concrete pavers flecked with gold.
Daisy was stunning in a short, gold sequined dress, which hugged her curves tightly. Her nude pumps clicked sharply on the walkway up to the doors of the club, and her long, golden curls bounced gently with each step. The two of them sauntered casually past the line of expectant partygoers to the security guard at the door, who immediately unhooked the velvet rope t
