Gilded Princess Novels & Stories

Dressing grandly in hopes he would notice her. She had chosen a deep royal blue silk strapless gown, that pushed her breasts up, giving them a fuller look. The bodice was heavily embroidered in gold too. Soft strings of glittering gold beads trailed from her sweetheart neckline and draped around her upper arms. Her jewellery was heavy and elegant as was her make up. Her hair was twisted into an elegant and intricate high updo and a glittering gold crown set with royal blue jewels was set upon it.

Goldwyn looked pleased at what he saw, this bewitching girl with mesmerising beauty and a sexy body was indeed the best gift from Jindals, though he didn’t know what he did to deserve this “Mr. Goldwyn, Jindal group seems extremely pleased with you, they sent you such an alluring beauty as gift,” someone from the crowd spoke “Mr. Goldwyn, should we take her to your presidential suite,” another voice shouted “Isn’t that the famous belly dancer who was in news for some very obvious reasons,” someone from another corner spoke

"And you're lucky we're not alone, Princess. You better hope I don't remember what you just said later." Whitney bit her red painted bottom lip sexily, sitting up straight and tightly squeezing her thighs together as she tried to look as innocent as possible. Whenever Hollis called her "Princess", it was always done in the bedroom. Whitney was usually the type to crave emotional fulfillment over sexual desire in her relationships, but Hollis completely flipped the script and constantly kept her panties wet with their playful teasing and bantering back and forth. Being drop dead gorgeous didn't help matters, either. As if Hollis' intoxicating personality wasn't enough, those clear grey bedroo

over the name “Theo Moretti” The Sicilian sea breeze drifted through the window, salty and free. I finally understood that a true mafia principessa was not a weak girl waiting for a knight to save her. She was the one who wielded the sword herself, severing the past and crowning herself. And I, Sophie Lucas, am that principessa.

Because he wasn't this way a few moments ago when we had arrived at the hospital. We pulled up to a place called The Gilded Talon. It was a five-star spot that screamed old money and power. When we stepped inside, I almost lost my breath. The ceiling was draped in gold-leaf moldings, and massive crystal chandeliers hung down like frozen rain, casting a warm, shimmering glow over everything. The floors were polished white marble, and the walls were lined with velvet curtains the color of deep wine. It was beautiful, but it felt like a cage—a very expensive, very shiny cage.

Diana Murrell smugly munched on a handful of walnuts. "Anyway, I’m not wearing that kind of junk. I’d be a laughingstock if people saw me wearing fake gold. What if it stains my wrist?" "That can’t be right, can it? Liana seems like an honest girl," Martha Kane chimed in. "Honest? Does being honest put food on the table?" Diana scoffed. "Just look at how shabby she is. She probably barely makes anything all year. Not like Rosalie, who’s about to become a manager at a big company."

“Wait is that actually Seraphina Thorne dressing like a common maid?” The whisper sliced clean through the music. Seraphina didn’t look up. The silver tray in her hands dipped for a second before she steadied it, her fingers tightening until the metal edge bit into her skin. The weight felt wrong tonight, as if it knew what she had signed a few hours ago. “It is,” Lydia Vance said, louder now, pleased with herself. “Look at her.” Perfume flooded the air as Lydia stepped closer, sweet and suffocating. “The Golden Princess,” she went on, voice bright with cruelty. “From owning the ballroom to serving it. Tell me, Seraphina… do you practice smiling while you scrub floors too?”

The silk dress, deep scarlet, scandalously low-cut, clinging to every curve like liquid sin had been chosen to be noticed, or perhaps to let her disappear inside someone else’s hungry gaze for a few hours. When she stepped into the VIP section of The Gilded Lily, the sheer decadence of the place hit like a fever dream. The bass throbbed inside her ribcage. The air was thick with expensive cologne, spilled champagne, and inescapably, that same ambergris note that had haunted George’s house. Here, though, it felt predatory instead of domestic. “There she is!” Serena shrieked over the music, sliding a chilled crystal flute of something golden toward her. “Drink up, baby. Tonight we toast the de

The Palazzo Serbelloni in Milan was a blinding kaleidoscope of crystal, gold leaf, and high-society decadence. It was 10:30 PM. The air inside the grand ballroom was thick with the scent of white orchids, expensive champagne, and the suffocating perfume of Italy’s corrupt elite. Government ministers, offshore bankers, and syndicate bosses mingled beneath massive Murano chandeliers, their laughter a polite lacquer over a world built on blood and narcotics.

She was scared that she might not be able to stop herself from looking at him because he was so good looking. “Sure, ” Prince Biha confirmed and stepped aside for the maid to enter the beautiful courtyard decorated with priceless gold. The maids and eunuchs living in the princess’s palace must be well principled because if not, most of the golds that the palace is decorated with should have gone missing by now. Prince Biha thought as he glanced around.