Bride And Blossom Novels & Stories

Ella POV I smoothed my hand down the side of my gown, deep burgundy, fitted at the waist, with a slit that stopped just above the knee. My jewelry was simple. Luciano sent a few choices, and I chose a thin gold necklace and matching earrings. I heard small feet padding down the hallway before I heard her voice. “Aunty Ella, you look so pretty!” Lovie appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide, her hands clasped together like she was watching something magical. Luca appeared behind her a second later, quieter but just as curious.

“Miss Christine sure is delusional. Mr. Vincent is the Godfather of the Medici family. He’s worth billions. In New York, anyone with status treats him with the utmost respect.” “Isn’t he getting married to his fiancée in five days? And she’s saying he’s the love of her life? Does he even know who she is? Every Cinderella dreams of marrying into wealth, but not just anyone off the streets can be the Godfather’s woman.” I walked out of the hospital and, in a daze, got onto the subway. At that moment, my phone vibrated. When I checked it, I saw that Elena had sent several photos in a row. They were wedding photos of her and Vincent, taken in Central Park. The wedding dress she wore was the same

So, with the anticipation all over, the doors of the hall were pushed open from outside, and the bride appeared in her black dress. "What is happening? Why black of all colours?" "Is she a widow? It's like she is planning to kill the alpha." "What's with the rusted jasmine? Are flowers too expensive in the market that the alpha couldn't get his Luna a better bouquet?" Everyone had a thing to say about the bride, but guess what? Neither the bride nor her alpha cared.

The gentle melody of a piano accompanied by a violin drifted through the church, filling the air with warmth and anticipation. Then the doors at the far end opened. His bride appeared. Two flower girls skipped ahead, scattering more petals as they went, whilst a bridesmaid followed closely behind. And then there was Rosie. Beautiful. She had always been beautiful. Bright and effortless, with a smile that could win over almost anyone she met. But in the dream, she was breathtaking. Her ivory gown flowed around her like liquid silk, trailing elegantly behind her. Soft waves of chestnut hair fell over her shoulders, adorned with delicate butterfly pins that glimmered beneath the light.

Through the fence, I could see them by the pool. Zachary's close friends were there too—the people who were supposed to be our groomsmen and bridesmaids. Zachary looked drunk, eyes unfocused, half-lying on Willow while biting her neck. The people around them cheered teasingly. "Zachary, come on now. We know Yvonne has the title, but Willow's the real deal!" "Exactly! Look at how pretty and sensible Willow is!" "If it weren't for Yvonne forcing him into marriage just because of her family's status, who would even want her with her stuck-up attitude?"

My heart was beating so fast I was sure they could hear it over the low thrum of music. "Gentlemen," Lorenzo began, his voice carrying that smooth authority that made people listen whether they wanted to or not. "I'd like you to meet Ellie Knight." He paused, and I felt his eyes on me even though I was staring at my hands folded in my lap. "She's officially a Black Rose now, under our protection." The words settled over the table like a heavy blanket. I didn't know what being a Black Rose meant, but from the way the three strangers straightened in their seats, it was clearly something significant. Something that changed how they looked at me.

My steps lead me outside, into Elena’s garden. I shiver from the cold once I open the glass door. But all the cold is forgotten the instant I notices the state of her garden. All the roses that once bloomed in rich colors, now hang wilted, with petals shriveled and brittle stems. A pang of sadness grips me. It feels symbolic, somehow, this garden is fading as quickly as its owner’s strength I crouch near one of the bushes and brush my fingers over a dead bloom. Maybe some of them can still be salvaged if trimmed, watered and cared for. But most are too far gone.

My young mistress's betrothed was dying, and she ordered me to marry him in her place to turn his luck. People believed the joy of a wedding could drive out sickness and misfortune, and that a dying man might be pulled back from the grave by it. "The royal physicians all say Lord Blackwell won't live past seven days! Why should I marry him only to be buried at his side? "He's never even seen me. You can marry him instead. "You're nothing but a lowborn maid. Being allowed to marry the regent is the luck of a lifetime." Before I could react, the glowing words appeared before my eyes again. [Celeste is such an idiot. What does she mean, he won't live past seven days? Lord Blackwell has the

Once they took their positions on either side of aisle, Blossom and Brooke skipped along scattering rose petals followed by Brandon and Blake with the rings on a deep red cushion. The music changed to “Here comes the bride” when Lara entered holding Jarvis’s hand followed by Dana. Lara couldn’t believe that she was actually walking down the aisle and towards her prince charming who was waiting eagerly at the other end of the aisle. She couldn’t believe that she had boldly married the man she only met a few months ago and yet it felt so right; her heart was beating so fast, so didn’t know if it would jump out of her mouth. Ed looked at his beautiful wife who was walking towards him; His felt

She joined the other maids as they filed toward Bianca’s wing, the air was thick with the scent of lilies and roses from the wedding florists who had been working since dawn. Inside, Bianca sat tall in her chair, her hair loose over her shoulders, silk robe slipping from her skin as if the world already belonged to her. Her smile was sweet at first glance, but her eyes glimmered with cruelty. “Ah, there you are,” she said, looking straight at Rose. “My little shadow. Come closer. I want you where I can see you.” Rose lowered her head, moving as instructed. Bianca’s hands spread languidly over her lap. “Today, I am the bride. And you…” Her gaze sharpened. “…you will make yourself useful.”