Emilia Clarke Feet Novels & Stories

Why must she make me rush over to the hospital? Finally, the hospital came into view, and I screeched to a halt in the parking lot, barely remembering to put the car in park before leaping out and sprinting towards the entrance. My heart was pounding in my chest as I burst through the doors, searching frantically for someone who could tell me where Emilia was. I was practically panting by the time I found a nurse and demanded to know where Emilia was being treated. "Where is Mrs. Emilia Clarke?" I asked the nurses once I got to the hospital. That was the name Caleb gave me as Nathan's mother-in-law.

She would never allow Angus to shoot inside her, but she was willing to watch Angus handle it himself, as a reward for his service, Emilia allowed him to hold her foot. Emilia just did the nail art on her foot, the nails were inlaid with beautiful purple gems, the same color as her eyes, but now, the purple gem was splashed with a thick, Emilia immediately handed her foot to Angus's chest disgustingly, rubbing it on his black shirt. She still said proudly: "Barely okay." Angus looked up at her, massaging her cramped feet: "Are you okay?" The discomfort that had been bothering Emilia had completely disappeared, and her mind was now clear. She believed that as long as she rested for two days,

Emily's POV The giant screen behind the stage was still showing Claire's face when she appeared. Not on the screen. In person. She emerged from behind the black curtain, limping. One dragging step. Another. Her right heel hung crooked, broken. Her red dress was wrinkled, stained with dried blood on the lap. Her red hair fell in damp strands over her swollen face. Her nose bandaged. Both eyes blackened. Her lip split. She looked like she had walked out of a car crash.

she heard him mutter, the words carrying across the silent studio. Emilia started walking. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor with a rhythmic click, click, click. Every eye in the room followed her movement. Phones came out to record. Someone whispered, "Is that his wife?" She raised her hand, the red thong dangling from her fingers for everyone to see. "THIS IS WHAT YOU WENT TO DO IN HAWAII?!" Her words echoed off the high ceilings. The model's hand dropped from Jax's arm quickly. His mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. He looked like a man watching his world catch fire.

I started to say. Emma paused on slipping the top she was trying to get on with her head stuck between the cloth for a few seconds before she pulled the piece of cloth over her head quickly and shoving her arms through the sockets of the top and walking back towards the bed. Christie who was currently buckling her light sandals in gold colour, paused in completely buckling the remaining sandal on her left leg. She raised her head and stared at me for a few seconds before raising up from her crouched position on the ground and walking towards the bed like Emma.

Brandon and I sit in companionable silence, both of us not really morning people. A beep comes from my phone. I pick it up and glance at the screen , it’s an I*******m notification. Geena f****g Clarks. I hiss, my hackles rising immediately. I click on it and I am speechless. Geena, dressed in an all-white top and pleated skirt, holding her racket in one hand, standing with none other than freaking Amellia. I touch Brandon’s shoulder. He looks up, distracted from the news report he was reading on his phone. I turn my screen to him.

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, a familiar voice interrupted them. “Nathan. It’s been a while.” Emma turned to see a woman approaching them. She was tall and striking, with sleek blonde hair and a crimson dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her sharp, calculating eyes flicked briefly to Emma before settling on Nathan. “Clara,” Nathan said, his tone cool but polite. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Clara smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I couldn’t resist supporting such a worthy cause.” She turned to Emma, extending a perfectly manicured hand. “You must be Emma. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“She is doing what she thinks is right.” I glared at him. Harmless? “Jerk!” I cursed. Emilia was a fertility-obsessed dictator. One evening, she cornered me immediately after I returned from work. “Layla, have you considered fertility crystals?” I raised an eyebrow. “Crystals?” “Yes, they align your chakras,” Emilia explained. I shook my head. “This is insane.” Now I feel like a science experiment. Emilia glared. “You want to be a mother, don't you?”

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady my breath, trying to stop thinking about Nathan and his hold over Clara. As I grabbed a paper towel to dry my hands, the door behind me opened. I glanced in the mirror and instantly recognized the woman who had walked in. My stomach did a small flip because the woman was Jenna Clairfield, one of the most well-known actresses in the industry, someone I had admired for years. Her presence carried a quiet elegance, though her expression was a bit guarded.