Fleur Delacour Novels & Stories

Shutting the door, I locked it. We walked into the boutique hand in hand since well, we were public already. The entrance was lined up with the staff of the boutique. The owner, Madam Delacroix was standing at the head in a pink suit and skirt, with rhinestone glasses perched on her nose. On her head sat a matching shade of pink small hat that complemented her Auburn hair. "Welcome to Delacroix Boutique." She announced in a thick French accent walking towards us. The staff bowed their heads on cue, saying,

Yet behind that perfect façade, turmoil churned beneath the surface. Tonight was the night of the engagement gala. A night meant to celebrate the union of two powerful families, but to Lucien, it was a bitter reminder of how little control he had over his own life. The door to the penthouse opened, and Clara Delacroix entered, moving with the poise and confidence of a queen. She wore a sleek black gown that hugged her lithe frame, her hair swept into an elegant updo, and her eyes glinted with ambition. Clara was the daughter of a media empire — beautiful, ruthless, and as calculating as they came.

Celeste asked looking up at the stars. "No, he only told me to pack up for this…" " I see, you must love your husband a lot" Celeste reasoned, " I do and I Know you also have an eye for the Lord, Moreau I mean" Delphine phrased out as Celeste chuckled, everyone here knew how much Moreau loves and cherished Estelle La Fey, she's the only woman whom he holds in his heart, but seems like he chose power over his love, for reasons best known to him, and also how Celeste was always seen around him, because she had special feelings for him, though he never baits an eye at her, the fact she was Estelle La Fey's maid left people thinking.

Perfect for a standoff. I found Damien on the third floor. Back against a wall. Gun ready. And beside him, a woman. Thirties. Athletic. Dangerous. Maya Laurent. She had a gun too. But not pointed at Damien. Pointed at the door. Covering his flank. "You must be Flora," she said without looking at me. French accent subtle but present. "Damien has told me about you. The woman who broke Marcus's programming. The one who saved herself."

Zita said to them. "Where is her mother? Has she mysteriously fallen ill?" Fiona said mockingly. Tracey sniggered. "I'm right here." A voice said boldly from the staircase. All eyes were at that direction-the staircase. Rebecca was at the landing, close to a step and held the handrail. Her curly hair fell on her shoulder; her dress was an off-the-shoulder dress with three steps designed on it. The jewel on her pendant glinted as the light from bulb reflected on it. Fiona rolled her eyes when she saw her.

"Let's see how delectable you taste, love." Lucas pulled out his finger and licked it deliberately in front of her, making the woman squirm. He dived his finger again in her wet folds when the insides of her clenched against his finger, Lucas bent over and sniffed her heavenly scent. Lifting his finger inside her vault he licked the wet folds gently which seemed more of a flick. She bit her own hand after feeling the sensation within her body that Lucas flicked his tongue against her swollen bud again. He knew how to make her surrender to him while Nathalie could sense how his skills were different from the guy to women she had given her for the first time. Precisely she lost it but never re

Smooth, controlled, laced with the quiet authority of someone who had spent years bending systems to her will. "Maya Voss." The voice of Margaux Delisle sliced through the loft's silence. "I believe you have something of mine. A young woman named Colette. I would like her back."

Her long, flowing hair was elegantly styled, with loose curls cascading down her back, and a tiara adorned her head, adding a touch of regal splendor to her ensemble. As Maria entered the studio, her eyes were drawn to a group of familiar faces: Li-lah, Julia, Natalia, and their dance partners. They stood together, their smiles radiant and genuine. In their hands, they held a beautifully decorated cake, its frosting a work of art adorned with delicate sugar flowers.

Suddenly, Chantelle's eyes fluttered open, and she looked up at Delcan. A smile spread across her face, and she reached up to touch his cheek. "Hi," she said softly. Delcan felt his heart skip a beat. He had never seen her look at him like that before. "I didn't mean to wake you," he said, his voice low and gentle. Chantelle sat up and took his hand in hers. "You didn't," she said. "I was just resting my eyes." She looked down at the outfit she was wearing and blushed. "What do you think?"

He smiled, and each of the shy girls looked ready to faint, but thankfully they were all seated in chairs. "My lord," the garden of wallflowers murmured back to him. "Mrs. Wycliff, it would seem you have a few dances open. May I?" He held out a hand, and Lily almost leapt to her feet, but resisted the urge. She could not seem too eager. That had been one of Miss Mirabeau's first lessons. The French courtesan had once worked for Hugo, training women in the art of seduction. "If you wish to stoke a flame into a raging fire, you cannot give it all the fuel it wants at once. You must make it work a little, yes?"