Bianca Lawson Age Novels & Stories

I glanced back at him and saw him shaking his head while his attention was on the papers before him. She practically hurled me to my bedroom and took me in front of a mirror. "Now let's get you clubbing ready!" For the first time, I noticed how different Bianca and I are in looks. She is truly beautiful, she looked like a human Barbie with that figure. Her dark black hair was shoulder-length, with plump lips, and big eyes. She was way too attractive than me. She strolled to my closet and I followed behind, she basically threw the clothes she didn't like on the floor. Her eyes landed on a beautiful light grey bodycon dress.

If he believed her then- excuse my language but he is definitely a dumb motherfucker. Antonio scoffed, "Honestly? I don't know. He didn't deny that she was nor did he agree." "What about you guys?" I asked, curious to know whether they believe her or not. "No" they all replied making me smile mentally, "Good" Dominic and Dante excused themselves and went upstairs, to Enzo's office while the rest of us continued with our breakfast. ** When we reached the main mansion, like they call it, I met Bianca. The girl who pretended that she was me. She was twenty two years old, making her two years older than me.

Suddenly, Bianca asked, "How old are you?" "Twenty-four!" Bianca's heart felt even heavier at that. Twenty-four?! What was Bianca doing when she was twenty-four? She was still studying in school and fighting for her future. People had different lives and destinies! "Be good and stay home, okay?" "Okay." Then, Bianca turned and got into the car. The snowplow had just passed, so the road was in good condition. Regardless, Bianca still drove cautiously. She had Natalie look up where Malcolm was currently staying.

"We break bread with the De Lucas. Nico won't mind if I talk to you, In fact, he’d probably prefer it, better me than..." She trailed off, her eyes flicking toward the entrance. The glass doors opened, the air shifted in the room. Bianca walked in. She wasn't alone, she had her usual entourage. Bianca wore white today, a cashmere coat and trousers that made her look like an ice sculpture. She scanned the room, looking for a target. Her eyes landed on me. Her lip curled, she whispered something to her friends, then started walking toward our booth. Sloane sighed, leaning back in the booth.

She fumbled with the combination, trying to ignore the growing feeling in her gut that she was being watched. “You’re in my spot,” a voice said behind her, sharp and sweet like poisoned sugar. Helena turned. A girl stood there in a skirt two inches shorter than regulation, blazer sleeves rolled up, platinum hair twisted into a flawless braid. Her lips curled like she smelled something unpleasant. Bianca. The name had floated around Helena's email threads even before term started. Head of the fashion committee. Daughter of a media mogul. Queen of Brentford. “This locker,” Bianca continued, tapping her manicured nail against the metal, “was mine last year. So unless you want to make your first

And then I turned back to my own queue of cases in need of attention. Later, during a break between back-to-back meetings, I decided to do some quick digging on my newly assigned work partner. Pulling up her name online, I was surprised at the pedigree that emerged. Not only was Bianca a graduate of one of the most prestigious law programs in the country, she also came from old money. Her family owned vast property developments throughout Mexico and Central America. Judging from photos of her multimillion dollar homes and yacht trips, she certainly knew how to enjoy the wealthy lifestyle.

I smiled back at him, trying to hide the worry in my mind. My boss had told me about her when we had dinner. Her name is Bianca Lawson. They met when they were in college. He loved her like his own sister, but he didn't know that she had fallen for him. Carson had told me that. He also warned me to be careful with her and stay away from her. ****** “Vincent,” said Bianca, with a sweet smile on her face as she rose from the dining chair and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You're late. I'll punish you,” she said in a soft voice and kissed my boss on the cheek.

A socialite widow with an eye for arranging marriages that benefitted dynasties. And her live-in maid was the one woman Valerio hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since the funeral. Bianca Moretti. She was 24, maybe 25. All legs and long chestnut hair braided down her spine, with the softest lips he’d ever seen parting into an embarrassed laugh every time she dropped a glass or got caught humming while she worked. She wasn’t polished like the marble statues littering the villa gardens. She was raw. Human. Too damn real.

Bianca yawned and stretched in relief. She had completed her final assignment for the course she had been working on. She shut the door behind her as she stepped into the large apartment. Catching sight of her reflection in the mirror in the hallway, she twirled in abandon. Bianca was a brown-eyed, brown-haired beauty in her twenties, carrying the kind of effortless glow that comes from youth and happiness. From being well-loved by not one, but two men!

Bella said before giving up on the fight and left the person to carry her out. Bella was lucky enough to have a lawyer as her best friend and she has been practising law for almost 3 years now. Bianca is 6 years older than Bella although most people find it really hard to believe because Bianca had a petite stature and Bella on the other hand has an hour glass figure. Her class mates even nicknamed her miss Kim when she was in high school. Bianca and Bella became best of friends because of their parents, Bella's mum and Bianca's mum have been friends since 4th grade. According to what they told their daughter's, they immediately became friends when they found out that they both shared the sa