Daphne Bridgerton Novels & Stories

Even before clicking the link, Luke felt his breath catch in his throat. The woman on the cover, dressed like a princess, was unmistakable—he would recognize her no matter what she'd become. It was Daphne. His fingers trembled slightly as he tapped the link. For a brief moment, his heart seemed to skip a beat. Daphne had become the daughter-in-law of the Kingston family, one of the most prominent business families in Bayshore City. The news was everywhere.

Even with the weight gain, her beauty was still obvious. Her features were delicate, her skin was pale and clear, with a healthy, rosy glow. The butler had already told her who the guests were, so as soon as she came in, she bowed. "I'm Daphne. It's nice to meet you, Alpha Lance and Luna Adelaide." Her eyes were exceptionally bright, like stars in a dark night sky. After she bowed, she stood to the side with a sweet smile. "That's a beautiful name," Adelaide said. She felt that Daphne was different from the other Hunt's daughters.

I heard the soft ping of the elevator and turned just as the doors opened. Daphne stepped out, elegant as always, in a baby-blue blouse and tailored jeans, her wavy brown hair pulled into a half-up style. She looked every bit the youngest Wilson, sweet-faced, sharp-eyed, and not to be underestimated. “Daph,” I said. She raised a brow, walked in, and dropped her bag on the armchair. “So... you’re engaged.” Straight to the point. No beating around the bush. Good day to you too. I sighed and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Apparently.”

AN EVENING AT THE FERINWALD MANOR Later that evening, Daphne arrived at Ferinwald's mansion, Lord Michael's estate. She had spent hours perfecting her appearance-a gown of deep sapphire hugged her slender figure, and her golden hair was styled in cascading waves. Every detail was calculated to captivate and most especially, seduce Lord Michael. But Michael's reaction was as cold as ever. "Daphne," he greeted curtly, his deep voice devoid of warmth. He didn't rise from his seat by the fireplace, his dark eyes barely glancing at her.

Daphne The air in the office was colder than I expected. Not just from the hum of the air conditioner, but from the weight of the man standing behind the desk. Zachary Moreau. He hadn’t changed much. Maybe a little older, his jaw a bit sharper, his confidence even more defined. He wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than my entire month’s rent, and yet it wasn’t the clothes that made him intimidating. It was the stillness. The kind that said he was used to being in control of everything around him.

Without her employers or her ex or anyone else watching her every move, waiting for her to slip up so they can belittle her some more. What would she be like with me? Without anything between us? Not expectations. Not trauma. Not a stitch of clothing. I watch. I brood. Daphne turns to one side to answer a guest’s questions, giving me the perfect view of her figure. Add “blindness” to the list of Ewing’s endless sins and failings. Who wouldn’t trip over themselves for the chance to consume her? To taste her and make that delicious body move and twist and writhe beneath them?

She knew if Sarah saw her like this she would act over dramatic as always, she never wanted the Luna Queen to go around without her hair and make-up done as she felt it was a personal insult to her that she couldn't do her job. Daphne left the room after taking a deep breath, knowing all eyes would be on her fully exposed neck. But then she thought, she could either be proud to sport the hickeys given to her by infamous alpha king or be ashamed about it. She was far from the latter. Walking into the dining room, she came face to face with the culprit of the imprints on her neck. Seating at the end of the table, with a buffet in front of him, Dwayne had his laptop on the table as he sipped on

An older woman with cherry red curls piled into a beehive popped up behind Daphne . “Daphne ,” I hissed. “I told you, I’m at work!” “I have seen and heard so much more scandalous things, honey.” The woman tsked at me. “I have the perfect dress for you. Size four?” “Yes.” Two hours later, Daphne , still wrapped in layers of white tulle, watched me as the owner of the bridal shop, Janice, stitched the sleeves in place. “See? No problem at all.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being modest, even if I did shop there.” “No, of course not,” Daphne replied, her tone dripping with sweet acidity. “It’s just not a look Alexander usually goes for. He’s always preferred women who…” she let her gaze trail slowly down herself, “…demand attention.” Mrs. Dill’s hand tightened on the cart. “You must be very proud of yourself.” Daphne, yes, had always been rude, but she seemed to gain a larger air of arrogance this time. Quite unexpected of someone who was caught in bed with her man’s best friend.

she said, “it’s not forever by force. If I want out one day—” “You’re free,” Dante said instantly. “Always.” She studied him. Then, slowly, deliberately, she reached for the pen on the counter. “Okay,” she said. His breath caught. “I’ll be your secret bride.” Dante’s control cracked—just for a second. He crossed the distance and pulled her into his arms, not desperate, not possessive—protective. Certain. He pressed his forehead to hers. “One day,” he murmured, “the world will know your name.”