Charli D'amelio Pictures Novels & Stories

“You’re even prettier in person. I can’t believe it’s you!” I looked at her name tag, “Oh Charlie, you’re so sweet. My name is Amelie.” “I can help you find whatever you need,” Charlie grinned. “Let’s take you ladies up to the premier changing room and viewing lounge.” “Thank you, Charlie,” Morgan replied.

She scoffed with anger and then loathed. “You have the right to date my cousin and I don't have the right to be petty? Oh, come on! This is not the seventeenth century for crying out loud!” Amelia shouted back at him and reached for the handle of the door to pull it open when she was pulled by the waist into a firm hug. Charlie bent down and whispered in her ears. “Don't be angry, my little princess. I have only you in my heart ” He wrapped his hands around her waist and let her back rest on his chest.

Rory’s finger hovered over the wiki link, wondering if he was ready to go down the rabbit hole of his brother’s girlfriend. But curiosity killed the cat, and satisfaction brought it back, so he clicked on it. Amelia was a model, a very stunning model. She had a curvy figure, and she was just as tall as Harvey, not taller, but she reached his shoulders from the pictures he saw of them—though she was on heels. Without them, she was still tall. She had high cheekbones, which were just right with her angular face and sharp jawlines. She had long, always dyed hair in blonde and any other color. Defined brows, full lips, and perfectly contoured makeup.

62. Alessandro's POV My phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Numerous notifications split in and just when I thought it was some messages from that stubborn rogue, my brows widened in shock when my eyes met the phone's screen. There they were. Pictures of Amelia and I. All our moments at yesterday's event were captured. Paparazzi was scattered all over the internet, taking ridiculous headlines. DON ALESSANDRO DEMARCO SHOWS UP WITH A RANDOM LADY AT THE EXHIBITION EVENT.

However, she was determined to stay awake. "Almost," she said. When her eyes landed on Matteo’s sculpted figure, a wistful smile flew onto her face. He had just emerged from the shower, clad in nothing but a towel that was wrapped around his waist to cover his bottom half. Beads of water ran down the abdomen, his muscles in clear view under the living room’s amber light. "Carlo has been doing well and there are more and more people interested in this charity, finally," Amelia said. "I want to finish up the event details so that I can run this through with Danielle tomorrow morning."

On Chaim's back, there were also a few clear and distinct finger marks. Who else could it be? "I should get dressed." Amelie did not want to discuss the results of last night's battle earlier! At seven ten in the morning, makeup artist was already waiting outside. Amelie let them in and started her day of makeup work. In a moment, Chaim also came down. The makeup artist were all very professional, they did not dare make the slightest mistake. Amelie was dressed in a dark red qipao today, and her figure had been preserved very well. Julio was also dressed very well, and the temperament of the former President and First Lady could not be ignored.

But although his face is friendly, there is a devious gleam in his blue eyes. "Did you look at my messages?" I ask. "I sure did..." Caleb admits. His chest is now inches from my face, and he tilts his head, seeming to find the height difference amusing. I swallow thickly while craning my neck. "And what did you find?" "Plenty of things... Who is Charlie? A boyfriend of yours?" Charlie is my best friend, and she is a woman. Her real name is Charlene, but she is a tomboy named Charlie on my phone.

Amelia entered the villa of the Timberlakes' building, her casual dress a stark contrast to the luxurious surroundings. She wore a simple polo shirt and jeans, her feet clad in comfortable sneakers. A canvas bag was slung over her shoulder, and a cap shaded her face. A camera hung around her neck, a testament to her passion for photography. As she strode through the villa, her eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in the opulent decor. The sound of gentle splashing drew her attention to the pool at the front, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the sun's rays.

Since he left France and came to leave in Monaco, Armel had become one of the Principality’s most eligible bachelors and at the many parties they had attended, he had always been the center of attention. Ever since she’d known Armel, Harley always saw women flocking around him and making their interest clear with a bold smile, a slight touch of a hand, or a knowing glance loaded with sensual invitation. He had responded to their blatant flirting with one of his cool, faintly sardonic smiles, and she’d felt reassured. But Chantal Auclair had been a totally different story. The stunning glamourous top model had pursued Armel with relentless determination and had shamelessly flaunted her specta

The usual posts flooded my timeline: fashion influencers flaunting their outfits, food bloggers making me regret skipping lunch, and then there it was. Amelia. Of course, it had to be Amelia. My finger froze mid-scroll as I stared at the series of pictures and videos she’d been in. There she was, laughing, smiling, glowing. And not just with anyone. She was with Liam and another VIP Prince Tristan. The prince that everyone has been raving about on my timeline.