Eleanor Chipettes Novels & Stories

She turned to me. “Serena, this is…” “Lady Eleanor Whitmore, Chairwoman of the Rosewood Philanthropist Society?” I interrupted Myles's Introduction, and the woman raised her eyebrows questionably. “Oh, you've been telling her about me, Myles? I'm flattered.” She giggled. “No..” Myles blushed. “Actually, she read the invitation letter.” “Oh, right.” She nodded. “The invitation letter.” I don't know but for some reason our encounter seemed somehow strange. Lady Eleanor seemed like a likable woman with her smiles and all, but she was a little bit.. I don't know older? And what really bothered me was the sexual energy I started to detect between her and Myles.

But the power dynamic had shifted completely. “Sit,” she commanded, gesturing to the same chairs we'd occupied during her previous attempt at intimidation. “We'll stand,” Killian replied. “Suit yourself.” Eleanor settled into her throne-like chair with theatrical grace. “Now, what's this about?” “Isabella Martinez.” Eleanor's expression didn't change, but something flickered behind her eyes. “I'm afraid I don't know anyone by that name.” “Maria Santos, then. Professional actress from Barcelona.” “Still not ringing any bells.”

It’s a gentle, grandmotherly smile — the kind you’d expect from a woman who bakes cookies and knits sweaters — but the longer it lingers, the colder the air feels, until a faint, prickling thread of danger curls along my spine. Quietly, I inch a little closer to Dominicus. Eleanor’s been alive for thousands of years — and though she’s never told me exactly how old she is, one thing is certain: she isn’t the type to let this kind of disrespect slide. Finally, Eleanor tilts her head, her voice as soft as silk. “Would you like… a demonstration?” Alpha Stefan falls silent, his sneer sharpening, and makes a sweeping gesture with his arm — the smug, careless kind that says, be my guest.

“Oh, this is delicious. Damon Rice, the man who’s allergic to emotions, might actually be in love. And the best part? His competition is Gavin Black, and my competition is Piper” I groaned. “Don’t start matchmaking wars, Eleanor. The last thing I need is you stirring up another scandal.” “Oh, come on,” she said, pouting. “You had your scandal. Let me have mine. The people deserve entertainment.” “People?” “Yes — me,” she said, pointing proudly at herself. “I am people.”

John shook his head while staring at Aleksander whose eyes were glued on the sketch. Lord Arthur entered the hall. He glanced at the cartographer who just left before eyeing the paper in Aleksander's hand. "Is that the Princess?" Arthur asked, standing behind Aleksander. Aleksander looked at him weirdly, "Princess?" he looked at John who shrugged at him. "That woman in your hand? It's the youngest Englisian Princess, daughter of the King's first wife, Elizabeth Corvinus," Arthur explained to him. "What a fine woman that she is. The last time I saw her was when she was roaming in the palace grounds."

Lucas enunciates each and every word. “Wow, I would have actually believed that you guys were siblings. You could have just stuck to that story.” I say making Eleanor laugh, “Also you’ve had a kid? Jeez, you are so hot, I wouldn’t have guessed that in a thousand years.” I say as I look at her body. I already look like a potato compared to her. “Thanks, my daughter is ten years old now.” She says and my mouth falls open. “NO freaking WAY. You look not a day over 25. When did you have her-“

She looked at me. “She sees you as competition.” “I’m not competing for anything-” “You’re not. But she is. She’s been positioning herself as Kael’s future mate since she was sixteen. She thought if she waited long enough, played the game correctly, he’d eventually choose her.” Eleanor smiled grimly. “Then you showed up and ruined twenty years of planning.” “Twenty years?” “She’s thirty-three. Do the math.” Eleanor sipped her wine. “I never liked her. Too calculating. Too cold. Not right for Kael at all.”

"...officially be my wife. Anyone who bets against her, bets against me. And I do not lose." Eleanor watched the feral, utterly untouchable American billionaire slide a ten carat diamond onto the finger of the pale, dark haired woman. The champagne flute in Eleanor's hand trembled slightly, not from fear, but from a deeply rooted, aristocratic rage. "Turn it off," Eleanor commanded, her voice sharp and brittle like shattering glass. A uniformed servant immediately muted the television.

As we were in the middle of a scuffle between Philip and Jessica, a video started playing and I watched as Eleanor trembled. " Who captured this?"Eleanor asked. I saw that the video clip and picture had been displayed. What caught my attention was the same lady coming out to say she was the one. All this time she has been the one helping us out with the information of what was going on. If we had depended on ourselves alone, I am not sure we would have caught the culprit. That was the first time I heard her say her name " Eve Hunter" . The way the words left her lips made me want to capture her lips that moment.