Novelas y relatos de Colette

Useless, naive. Perfect. When she looks up, recognition flashes in her eyes. “Are you—Vivienne Westwood?” I smile. Ah, so she knows me. “Yes, darling. And you are?” “Colette,” she says, blushing. “I—I work here. I’ve admired your work for so long.” Of course she has. Everyone does. Her awe is almost too easy to exploit. I soften my tone, leaning in like we’re girlfriends sharing secrets. “Tell me, Colette… do you have time for a coffee? I find myself in need of… company.”

Scarlett, There was a commotion in the corridor, and I heard people running. I sat up in bed, and I knew we were under attack. It was sudden, and I did not know what to do. Why hadn't my mates returned yet? I felt someone try my door, and when it didn't open, the person broke the lock. The man was huge, easily six feet six inches. I swallowed because his brown eyes had a murderous look in them. I did not know what to do. I wasn't a fighter.

She laced her hand with mine. We were inside the make up salon. It was a small saloon that had beautiful decorations. The walls were painted black and pink which suited the place. The interior had some fancy equipment- some paintings were hung on the walls and metal chairs that had round bottoms. The place had more people than I thought there would be. The paintings were catching Valentina's attention because she was caressing them. "Hello, Sir." A lady with a clipboard on her hand stood in front of me. "Hello, Madam." She turned to Valentina.

Miserable prick. "Okay, but promise me you will link me right away if anything changes and have Paige do it too. I want to know what's happening at all times, Zane." Colette ordered as we pulled up into the garage of the packhouse. I killed the engine, turning to face her again. She was a vision in her dark denim shorts and band tee she had turned into a crop top. Her hair platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. Necklaces decorated her neck.

Opening the door, Christiana stood in front of her. "I forgot my handbag and umbrella at your house." "So sorry for the inconvenience." Her voice was laced with remorse. Staring at her, Daisy Hunter said," What, No, it's really okay…I too forget my stuff in people's homes." Daisy Hunter said, smiling gleefully, exposing her perfect dentition. Stepping into the dimly lit room, Christiana spotted her handbag and umbrella, grabbing it, she thanked Daisy and stepped out immediately.

When I was done brushing and taking my bath, I changed into a pair of black leggings and a light blue sweater when I noticed the weather was a bit chilly. I packed my curls in a bun and left my room, nearly bumping into Anya. "Oh, dearie! I was just about to come and wake you up for breakfast!" she exclaimed with a cherry tone. "Good morning, Anya," I greeted the woman. "Good morning to you too. Follow me. I'm sure you must be starving," she said and turned to leave. "You have no idea," I mumbled and followed after her. "You haven't told me your name yet," she said to me. "Oh, I apologize. I'm Rosaline, but people call me Rose," I told her. she turned around to look at me and I felt a little

Jewels were attached and I had keep my hands steady so they didn't end up falling off. The stylist arrived and this woman went straight to work. No greetings, there wasn't a single 'hi' I heard from her. She just placed a book on my thighs and told me to pick whichever one I wanted. I went through it and saw the length of my hair wasn't enough to do most of them and I didn't want any type of extensions so I just told her to do whatever was okay for my type of hair. She then said something in French in didn't understand and I just nodded in response.

I mumbled, “I better give her more markings next time…” All of the sudden, I could hear soft whispers from her, as if she’s having a dream. Amused by her sudden noise, I let out a soft chuckle from my mouth. “Having a nice dream, huh?” I asked, as I continued to stroke her soft morning hair. All of the sudden, there was a knock from the door. As I couldn't bring myself to open it, I merely asked them a question on what brings them here. “Greetings, young master. This is Stella, one of the new maids working under Mrs. Étienne. The lady would like to forward a message, stating the following: Come to the dining hall once the both of you are ready,” she said, whilst behind the door.

I attended all my lectures before making my way to the cafeteria to have some much-needed coffee that needed to get into my system after a hectic day. I bought a coffee and as I was about to make my way towards an empty table I saw Maverick coming towards me. I knew I couldn't talk to him any longer and I turned around ready to rush out of the cafeteria when instead I bumped into a guy spilling all my coffee on his white shirt and branded white shoes. "What the fuck?" Way to go, Arabella.

And those hands. I look down at my hands, short nails because I bite them when I'm anxious, cuticles I never bother with, knuckles dry from the weather and cheap soap. ‘Walk away from Albert Rossi before he destroys you.’ I curl my fingers in. "The body is strong," Colette announces. "We enhance. We do not reconstruct." She meets my eyes in the mirror. "You may dress." When I return, fabric swatches cover a long table. She holds shades against my skin and discards without softening her conclusions.