Romans & histoires Isley Pamela

I don't know what catches my attention first; the fact that her cream-colored dress fits her in all the right places or the fact that her made up face looks eerily similar to Elsa's. My mouth hangs slightly open as I take her in. I've seen a lot of beautiful women in my lifetime, but Pamela's beauty is just something else; unique and rare. She looks so out of this world, almost like an ethereal being. I have to remind myself not to lose focus. This is only a temporary arrangement, Massimo. Don't let anything else get in the way, I chide myself. “Report back to me if anything comes up,” I finish quickly on the phone.

Lionel frowned slightly. Halfway through the meal, Iris looked at Pamela. "You must be Pamela! You're even prettier in person than in the music video. You actually remind me a bit of myself when I was younger." Lionel stiffened. "She's not as pretty as you were back then." Iris raised an eyebrow. Pamela's face went pale, sadness flashing in her eyes. No one else dared to speak. In the blink of an eye, Pamela adjusted her expression and put on a gentle smile again, as if she hadn't been affected at all by Lionel's words.

Sally Pamela was a skinny big-eyed lady, short with very slim legs, short brown hair and a face that looked like a flattened O. Her skin colour was dark brown, and her big brown eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their socket anytime soon. It's been seven days since I attended my husband's wedding, and today, I was at a cafe with Liz. I had to leave the house to clear my head and lessen the pain I felt in my heart. We just sat there, and Liz kept whistling, trying to soothe the tense atmosphere.

Isabelle took the phone from her table and dialled her mom’s number so she could ask her about it. “Hello, mom,” Isabelle said after her mother picked up. “Isabella, my dear, how are you?” Her mother asked cheerfully. “I’m fine, mother,” She said dismissively, “And what’s this I’m hearing about you coming to LA in two days?” Isabelle asked. “Oh yes, you remember my good friend, Pamela, right?” Her mother asked. “No, I don’t remember any Pamela,” Isabelle replied. “Well, she’s a friend of mine and her daughter is getting married in LA this weekend and I was invited so I thought I’d use this opportunity to see my little girl and finally meet that rich and handsome boyfriend of yours,” Her moth

"Pam— Pamela, I— I feel weird." "Gosh! They say I get the easiest part, but it's still a pain." If earlier it was Elisha who supported Pamela to help her walk, now it's the other way around. Impatient and a little harsh, Pamela pulled Elisha. "Get in," Pamela said, dragging and pushing Elisha into a hotel room. "My job is finished here. Take care of yourself, and I'm not joining you anymore." "Wha— Wait, Pam! Pamela!"

Standing by one of the tall windows was Pamela, dressed in a simple but elegant cream-colored dress, her posture straight, her expression gentle. Pamela—the first daughter-in-law of the Gray family, she was married to Robert Gray who was William’s elder brother. Pamela had left Los Angeles not long after tragedy struck the Gray family twice in a row. She had buried her husband barely a year after the Patriarch’s sudden passing and the grief had broken her in ways few understood. Rose certainly did.