Billionaire Fashion Designers Novels & Stories

For the extremely wealthy, celebrities merely served the role of good-looking clothes racks whenever they were picking jewelry and clothing. No designer would risk offending anyone in that circle. However, they couldn't flat-out reject the Carver family's proposal. They either told Keith that they were currently participating in fashion shows overseas or had their hands full with couture outfits for another client. All in all, no one took Aria up as their client. Their responses were so polite that Keith couldn't find any fault with them. However, he was an astute man. He realized something was amiss when all the designers in Janovin and even Hangleton, the neighbouring city, said they didn'

I feel like a bridezilla well except that I'm not getting married I always get like this when I have a fashion show. My employees as well as the models Nathaniel and I picked are busy getting ready. I peeked out at the people who were invited and all I see are snobs. Yes, I said snobs because all of them are filthy rich and most of these women only want the best they like gossiping about everything and everyone. They don't care about the starving children or abused women and children they only care about designer clothes, cars, and whatever the hell there is as long as they can show off.

Another person added, and instantly, goosebumps dotted my skin. How could Max buy such an expensive dress just for me to wear it to a public place knowing fully well I would attract attention? What exactly was his response reason for that? Victoria Catore, the world best fashion designer that each of her gowns does not cost below a million dollars? I stared down at the gown, not believing I was actually putting on one of her specifically handmade jobs.

But clearly, why would I pay attention to them when I had a big offer waiting out there for me? They were always a great inconvenience to my life, but well, was there anything better than being a billionaire? Of course not. Whenever the journalists felt the need to attack me with questions, my bouncers were always there to guard me out of their proximity. Soon, we reached my car. I hopped into the backseat, fastened my seat belt. Another good thing about being a billionaire was you never had to talk. Gesturing with the eyes, snapping the fingers, clearing the throat, would do the trick. And right now, a snap of my fingers got my driver to start the car.

She'd also just sealed Cliff Sanders and Keith Stark's fate they were both fucked. I sent her to the restroom to change into the dress I'd bought her for the occasion. It was just a simple ivory colored silk sheath with matching flats, my baby does not like heels. Her only Jewelry was her new ear studs, and later the rock I had picked out for her finger. I hope she liked it I'd not had the time I would've liked to choose and since it was going to be gracing her finger for the next sixty or seventy years I needed it to be spectacular. The jeweler had assured me that it was the best of its kind. When she came out of the room, hair brushed and flowing down her back, holding the little nosegay o

Designer names she didn’t even know how to pronounce. Rows of shoes lined up by color. Boxes stacked taller than she was. A single glittering clutch that looked like it cost more than her first car. “What… is all this?” she whispered, eyes wide. Rafael appeared behind her. “I may have gone a little overboard.” “A little?” “It’s just a few outfits,” he said innocently. “For our date today.” Lena turned. “I have clothes.” “Yes, but now you have clothes that scream ‘I have a billionaire boyfriend who worships the ground I walk on.’ Much better vibe.”

Alexander scolds Sophia. It was the day of the wedding, and Alexander made sure that the press, paparazzi, and media personnel were around to capture the moment. He needed everything for this wedding to fly everywhere. The hall was decorated in white, and everything screamed luxury from the designs to the guests. Alexander wanted it to be the most talked-about wedding. He made sure he got the most exclusive designer wedding dress for Sophia. The moment she walked into the church, all eyes were on her. The whispers began to fly, her dress alone cost a fortune. It shimmered and glittered. Studded with real diamonds, Sophia looked like luxury and class.

The doorbell rang, and my heart skipped a beat. Liam Harrington, Mr. Billionaire himself, was about to enter my world – my small but cozy apartment. It was a far cry from his sprawling estate, but I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of satisfaction knowing he was about to be out of his element.

"No, but she told you she was grateful and had the money. So don't even ask, Tim. I won't give you the number or the address." I lean my hand against the wall and curse silently. The main thing is that she's okay. I say goodbye to Stevenson and start acting like a cool businessman. I know what they say about me behind my back: that I, Tim Frost, wouldn't wear underwear for less than a grand; that I'm obsessed with luxury; and that I have complexes from my orphanage past. Let it be. It's just my thing. Designers like Werner Baldessarini and Ermenegildo Zegna create clothes especially for me. I see no reason to deny them the pleasure of dressing me.