Novel & Cerita Aly Sloan

She wears a long sleeve see-through shirt. She wears a sun shaped earring on one ear and a moon shaped one on the other. Rachael shouts with joy and confusion. “Mary!”. It is Mary Sullivan. Her former co-worker at Peoples United Bank. “This is Mary everyone, she will alter Dracula's spell for us,” John introduces her. Rachael is baffled. Alter the spell? Mary Sullivan is the witch John was talking about? Rachael begins to wonder how many people in her life are supernatural masking as ordinary people.

I walked three paces behind him, feeling like a shadow. "Hey, Sterling!" a voice called out. It was Sloane. She was leaning against a locker, her blonde hair perfectly curled, looking like she stepped out of a movie set. Her eyes landed on me, and her expression shifted from a flirtatious smile to a cold, calculating mask. "Why is the scholarship charity case following you around like a lost puppy?"

"The president is in there?" "Pierce himself." The woman's voice had taken on the reverent, slightly unhinged quality of a true believer. "Declan Pierce. Thirty-four, single, richer than God, and — I am not exaggerating — the most beautiful man anyone in Illinois has ever seen. If I don't get hired today, I'm framing my rejection letter." Sloane almost laughed. Almost. Something uncomfortable moved through her chest. Probably nerves. Declan Pierce. She'd seen the name on the building but had never connected it to an actual person. Never seen a photo. She didn't read business magazines; she barely had time to read menus.

She opened a fresh notebook and began sketching her cover: Name: Sloane March Occupation: Behavioral consultant for high-performance executives Background: Stanford MBA, boutique firm in Tribeca Personality: Confident, curious, emotionally intelligent Hook: She’d “accidentally” cross paths with Julian at a private tech roundtable in SoHo—an event she’d already arranged to be invited to. She’d need to study his work, his language, his rhythms. She’d need to become someone he couldn’t resist—not because she was beautiful, but because she was a mirror. Someone who understood him. Reflected him. Challenged him.

Saturday. At the salon for our hair appointment... Eight days before midterm. Sloane and I were seated side by side at Soleil Luxe, a high-end salon nestled along the Wilshire strip, draped in matching black capes and sipping on cucumber-infused water like it was champagne. The place smelled like coconut oil and honey. “I swear,” Sloane muttered, scrolling through her phone, “if I see one more group project pop up in my email before midterms, I’m going to fake an emotional breakdown. I’ll cry. Ugly cry.”

His focus on the flames as they crackled and waved. “The Luna has arrived,” Odis announced. The young man turned around has dark skin and his black hair is puffy and wild. A firm strong jawline, thin lips, and sharp prominent nose. The most surprising thing is his eyes, brown eyes with a white cloud over them. The doctor is blind. “Good afternoon, Luna. My name is James Sylvester. It’s a pleasure and an honor to meet you,” the doctor said. “A pleasure to meet you. You seem quite…”

“But don’t you have a very large and beautiful rooftop garden? With so many plants, the air must be so fresh, Madam.” Ariadne managed a bitter smile, the annoyance simmering just beneath the surface, knowing Sloane would likely play it off as a joke. And sure enough, Sloane quickly added, "I was joking," as if to soften her words. Sloane reached into her bag and retrieved a compress plaster, holding it up as she spoke. "I can tell if you're experiencing symptoms of flu or fatigue. Irregular meal times can also affect your health, Madam, so I hope you’ll be able to enjoy your meals more—especially since a renowned chef prepared them."

I take a sip and look at my friends. “Thank you all so much for being here today. It means the world to me.” “We wouldn’t be anywhere else. Now, I don’t know how we’re going to make you look more like a Luna than you already do, but that’s Scarlet and Bethany’s department. I’m just here for the friendship and crappy juice. I wanted real champagne, but babies make you make tough choices,” Sloane says, laughing as she rubs her belly. “Why don’t you sit here, Stephanie. Scarlet is going to do your makeup and I’m going to do your hair,” Bethany says.

If Sloane was being honest, she'd always been a little intimidated by women like Alyssa Berry - beautiful women who never seemed to have a hair out of place or a wrinkle in their clothes. Women who knew how to command men with the flash of a smile or a practiced giggle. It was some sort of sorcery that Sloane had never understood, and there was a time in her life she would have given anything to know its secrets. Women like Alyssa felt like an entirely different species.