Dress To Impress Gothic Romance Novels & Stories

A wide grin spread throughout my face as I thought about how I set Scarlet up with another man, making it possible for this night to happen and for me to spend time with Jace. Tonight, I was determined to leave a lasting impression on Jace. As I watched myself through the mirror, I couldn't help but imagine him showering me with blessing and compliments when he sees the gown on me instead of Scarlet. I pushed open the dress, originally bought for Scarlet out of the box. It was a long blue gown. With silver lace at the top. Of course, I chose it so I made sure it was my taste. I put on the dress in front of the mirror. Layed the finishing touches, a hint of lip gloss and spritz of my favorite

Dressed in a short black dress that hugged her like it was made just for her, Romona leaned against the wall by my door, arms crossed, looking way too comfortable for someone who didn’t live here Over the fabric on her body looked all sleek and expensive, she wore a long black faux fur coat that practically. Her hair, done in loose waves, tumbling over her shoulders making her oval face look all perfect. Her lips coloured in dark crimson red that went well with all the black she had on. Her love for Gothic fashion creeped me out but I couldn't deny that it looked unexplainably good on her. “What are you doing here?” I snapped, irritated, the words coming out on their own. I was exhausted, st

That smirk—God help me—could melt glaciers. “You think red?” I asked, holding up the dress. He walked toward me, reached for the gown and held it against me with a knowing nod. “Absolutely. Paris is about passion, fire... romance. This one screams all three. And also—” he paused, dragging his eyes down my body slowly “—you’ll look ravishing in it.” I flushed, fidgeting with my hair. “Well, you don’t look too bad yourself.” He laughed, pulling me into a gentle hug. “Only ‘not too bad?’ That hurts.”

“But it’s not you.” I crossed my arms and glared at him. “And what is me, exactly?” His gaze softened as he leaned back on the couch. “Bold, breathtaking, impossible to ignore.” I felt my cheeks heat, and I turned away before he could see. “You’re impossible.” “And you’re still here,” he shot back, his tone light but teasing. After trying on what felt like every dress in the store, I finally settled on a sleek black gown with subtle gold accents. It was elegant, understated, and perfect for blending in—which was exactly what I wanted.

He says with a smirk on his face. When he walks away, I see all four of them are now dressed and adjusting their suits. I put on my cocktail dress, it goes to mid-thigh and is skin-tight. The back plunges to just above my butt and is all open. It shows my scar, but I don’t care. I quickly pin my hair to the side, so my curls fall all to the right. The front of the dress is a loose swoop. The black dress pairs well with my gold stilettos and gold pendant. Duron whistles at me and I blush, turning to face them.

His people are nodding in agreement and I chuckle. The dress hugs every inch of my body. A wine-red corset dress with off-the-shoulder sleeves, long and sweeping like something from a royal ball. It's really beautiful. I look... different. I'm reminded of a sculpture. Very curated. I fit the profile of the kind of woman Dante Moretti wants by his side. I have to admit that he has taste. Jean Claude spins me around, beaming. "Magnifique! You are a goddess!"

Neither do I have a job or anyone to run to. Tears slipped down my cheeks before making my way up to my room. • I stared at myself through the mirror in front of me as a sigh left my lip. This dress is indeed beautiful. It's a short strapless black gown that stopped an inch before my knee. It has a cut at both side waist with an embroidery design all over it, especially the down part. This is my first time putting on an expensive and good-looking dress after my Dad's death. I didn't have enough money for shopping and neither did Aunt Capella bothered to get me any good dress.

"Wear something nice." Excitement bubbled up inside me. We dressed casually for the day, and headed out. The villa was perched on a hill overlooking a charming Italian town, so we drove down the winding road into the cobblestone streets. Our first stop was a boutique shop Roman had apparently scouted. The owner greeted us warmly, and Roman encouraged me to browse the dresses. I tried on a few, but the one that caught my eye was an elegant black dress with a deep neckline and a slit up the side. It made me feel confident, sexy even. Roman's eyes lit up when I stepped out of the dressing room. "That's the one," he said, nodding approvingly. We bought it, along with some accessories, a delicate

Its romantic setting paired with the mesmerizing downtown views of Manhattan, swept my breath away. I was standing next to my parents, only half listening to their conversation. Giovanni had maintained at least five metres distance away from me all night but that never detracted from the gazes that burned my skin as his eyes trailed over my body. My hair was loosely coiffed at the nape of my neck, soft curls brushed against my collar bone on every turn of my head, tickling my skin lightly. The red dress I had opted for dipped low down the front, exposing my pert cleavage and creamy skin. Satin material fell loosely around my hips, skimming the matching carpet below my feet. It was the perfec

If I was going to pretend, it had to be perfect. I turned back to my closet. I needed armor. Something that screamed approachable but lethal. A structured maroon midi dress with subtle shimmer. Pointed heels. Glossy waves cascading down my back. I don’t do maidens. I do queens. My phone buzzed again. From Damon: Were we still on for tonight? Text me when you’re free. I paused. Dare I drag him through this mess? He’d been twitchy lately. Sensitive. Possessive.