Novel & Cerita Beatrice Laus

Then, the double doors swung open with a violent grace. ​Beatrice stood there, looking like an ice sculpture carved from a block of Chanel-scented arrogance. Her suit was a pale, clinical blue, and her hair was pulled back so tightly it seemed to sharpen the cruel lines of her face. She looked at Elara with a mixture of visceral disgust and genuine, wide-eyed shock. But when her gaze shifted downward and landed on Leo—who was currently giggling with a face half-smeared in maple syrup—the color drained from her skin until she looked like a ghost. ​"What is this... creature doing in my house?" Beatrice demanded. Her voice wasn't a scream; it was a low, trembling vibration of pure, unadulterate

Beatrice Thorne wore a black velvet gown with a high collar. Her silver hair was pinned into a flawless chignon. Around her neck hung what looked like a heavy diamond necklace, though not as heavy as the intimidating aura she exuded. She did not look at them right away; she was cutting a small piece of meat with terrifying precision. “Sit down, Mavric,” Beatrice’s voice sounded like grinding ice. “And you… Liora White. Sit far away from my son.” “I want to see your face clearly.” Mavric did not obey that order.

One of them waiting for the other to slip up so that they take that as an excuse to attack but none of them are leaving a chance for slip up. "Sorry, Sasha VAHEMIR ", Beatrice voice makes everyone tilt their neck to face her. She is on taking a bow and holding unto her dress and Davil let go of Seb. Davil chuckles and that seems to make Aiden blood boil, he is pissed his sister stooped so low, so is Seb. He must wish he had knelt so that Beatrice won't have to apologize. Did he think he stands a chance against El mushacr? He can't land a single punch, not even in his dreams. Beatrice has changed, the war took a toil on her, it made me more respectful, level headed.

"Why have you appeared before me again, after all this time?" Beatrice smirked. "Don't be delusional, Lucas. I am not here for you. I just attended your engagement and I don't have any other intentions." She replied to him, firmly. His eyes squinted. "Really?" his voice sounded something interesting. Beatrice met Lucas's gaze head-on, her expression resolute despite the turmoil churning inside her. "I'm not here for you, Lucas," she replied firmly, her voice steady. "I have my own reasons for being here, reasons that have nothing to do with you."

Beatrice frowned, not understanding what she could have given to Carolyn and Neil. “Sure, you gave something else. What are you claiming to have given Carolyn?” Beatrice waved her finger inches from April’s face. Her long fingernail scratched April’s cheek. Not enough to draw blood, but to leave a raw red mark. April’s hand raised in time to touch her cheek as Beatrice gasped and glared at her. “Beatrice, do you remember what my maiden name was?” she asked Beatrice. Beatrice frowned for a moment; her mind was still off from what she’d done to April, and she searched her mind for April’s maiden name. A name April hadn’t used for several years. “Davis, wasn’t it? What relevance does that have?

a harsh whisper hissed from the copy alcove twenty feet away. I didn’t look up from my pinky nail, but my lips curled into a smirk. The speaker was Beatrice, a woman in her late forties whose wardrobe consisted entirely of beige pant suits and resentment. Beside her stood high-and-mighty Clara, who had been passed over for the senior executive secretary role three times in the last five years.

The sports car passed by in a flash, and Beatrice couldn't see what I was carrying in my hand before I disappeared from her sight. She chewed her gum and blew a bubble, "pop," the bubble burst, and she picked up her phone to call Irene. "Irene guess who I saw on the road just now?" Irene was lying in bed, half asleep with her eyes half-closed. She asked in a hoarse voice, "Who did you see?" "Laurette. It's so hot outside, and she's still wearing a baseball cap and a mask, thinking she's a big star. Are you still sleeping?" Beatrice could hear the drowsiness in her voice.

“No, thank you, Leila. Naomi’s hands are somehow softer and gentler than yours. Or Beatrice’s.” And I need to be close to her...to see what I can sense from her energy. To see just how dark it is, and gauge what she's capable of. Beatrice snorts loudly from across the room, where she’s elbow-deep in my massive wardrobe, sorting garments for the next season. “That’s only because she’s lazy,” she mutters under her breath, tossing a velvet dress onto the bed with unnecessary force. “Her hands haven’t seen a single day’s worth of hard, honest work in their life.”

she said, leaning forward and pecking them both on the cheeks. Candice stood still as she pecked her and then turned around like a robot, before screaming and running away. “What is wrong with her?" Melissa asked Vanessa. “She always dreamt of you pecking her," she said. Not long after a knock landed on the door and both her and Vanessa screamed come in. The door swung open and Beatrice walked in. She was in a red dress that had an exquisite design that let one catch a glimpse of her straight legs and brown thighs. Melissa smiled. “Waoh," she exclaimed. “You look good,"

"Did it happen here?" Clara nodded, "Yes." Beatrice—a woman with sharp eyes who seemed dangerous in her mysterious world. She knew Beatrice was still involved with Lucas's mission with Rafael and... a few other people Lucas mentioned, but she couldn't recall their names. And Clara didn't understand why this woman approached her when Lucas and Jamie were busy with the computers in Lucas's workspace. "It turns out Liam found the right person," Beatrice remarked. Clara turned her head and gave a cautious look.