Bridget Jones Novels & Stories

I shouted and ran to her on the floor I tapped her body but she wasn't responding. “You have to get here now. Emily has fainted.” I said to Bella and then called Mabel next. “What happened?” I asked the people around but they were all quiet. “We just heard a bang sound and rushed in. It must be Matilda because her and her crew rushed out.” “Who the hell is Matilda?” “She is quiet popular in College. How come you don’t know her? Her father owns part of the university.” Another one said with a laugh.

' I told myself. I didn’t even look at them as I walked by, but then Bridget stepped in front of me. "Wow, you've learned how to do makeup and dress well. What a surprise." She remarked, the familiar condescending look in her eyes. "Get out of my way." I pushed past her, but Bridget grabbed my wrist. "So, is Princess Nika of the Stormhowl Pack still a princess now that her brother is in prison?" She lifted her eyebrows. Whenever I look at her face, it always brings out the insecurity in me. Striking blue eyes, a petite nose, and plump lips. Bridget is perfect, especially when I think about myself.

"It kills me to reveal to you, especially in light of the recent hysterics on my part, that I have a secret too. Something I've kept from all three of you, and everybody else." A secret? What? "Wait. What secret?" I asked, stupidly. Was she was secretly twenty-five years old, or some shit? That would explain the incredible tits... Bridget just took a huge breath and let it out. She said something so softly I couldn't hear. "I beg your pardon?" I said, weirdly formal like I was in some damned parlor comedy. "I'm a virgin," Bridget said flatly and out loud. Louder than necessary, in fact.

A girl with long braids stood nearby, delicate and willowy, her fingers pinching her nose as she turned to the man beside her, voice full of complaint. I followed her gaze. The man was tall, ramrod straight, face expressionless like a statue carved from iron. Rolling my eyes, I said, "You're Blake Malcolm, right? I'm your fiancée, Joyce Cameron. Take a look at the engagement letter. If everything checks out, find me somewhere to rest."

“You have him, I’ll take his hot cousin.” By the time the gowns arrive, we’re still arguing. But then we see the dresses—and all is forgiven. They’re stunning. Rich silks, deep jewel tones, slits that could get a girl pregnant. We start the live. “Hey, babes,” I say into the camera, channeling my best Harper-voice. “Getting ready for the Jones Foundation gala tonight. And I'm not alone to night.” “This is Brit,” I say, camera panned toward her. “We met at a Sedona retreat. She introduced me to oat milk matcha and meditation with crystals.”

Maybelline turned to her assistant Phylia. “What is her name?” She asked. The assistant was genuinely confused by her boss's sudden interest in the injured girl but she shrugged off her concerns and reminded herself that Maybelline was just being her usual eccentric self. “The name on the file is Raya…Raya Bridges so I guess that's her name,” the assistant shrugged. “Get me a meeting with Ms. Raya Bridges then.” The Matriarch stood up to leave, she had that meeting with her chiropractor to attend and then there were the unread and unanswered emails that she had to get to.

However, Mikhail's face remained stoic, his anger simmering beneath the surface as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. Ronan Marino stood up, a charming smile on his face. "It is with great honor and pleasure to introduce to you the future Bratva's bride, Donatella De Luca." He walked towards the door, opening it with a flourish. Donatella stepped in, her navy blue gown shimmering under the lights. The off-the-shoulder design accentuated her elegant neck, and the knee-length hem showcased her toned legs. Her dark hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, and her bright smile lit up the room.

Bridgett "Steal your legacy?" I choked out, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. “I was trying to keep you from taking them away from me!” Jordan didn't budge. His large hands tightened on the edge of the ping-pong table, trapping me. "From me? Am I a monster, Bridgett? Is that what you think?" "You're a billionaire Alpha," I whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I was a waitress living in a studio apartment. If I had told you... you would have taken them. You would have crushed me. You have to understand me—"

“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

JADEN’S POV The city always looked different from the top floor. Very clean and quiet. Like all the filth and desperation below couldn’t quite reach the glass walls of my office. I stood beside the window with one hand tucked into my pocket while the other lazily swirled the whiskey in my glass, my attention fixed on the massive screen mounted across the room. The wedding clip replayed again, again and again. Adrian Cross smiled for the cameras like a man who had just conquered the world.