Marceline Red Boots Novels & Stories

🦋 CATALINA 🦋 I drag my feet home from the academy to prepare for tonight’s welcome party, my bag in one hand and another bag filled with what Nabi expects me to wear tonight. It’s a mini-length dress hitting mid-thigh, the fabric is short, stretchy, and light, creating a figure-hugging fit throughout the body. A branded, really fancy, glowing, vibrant solid red color, a halter neck style that plunges low down the front, with an open back. Matched with a strappy high-heeled sandals that perfectly match the red color of the dress.

Victor rebuked, “Learn to speak like a lady, will you?” “Learn to speak like a lady, will you?” mimicking Victor’s tone, I repeated in a sneered face. Big size lady’s shoes are surely uneasy to be found, we searched all around the mall to get just one pair of red leather high heels. They’re in pointed toe and thin stem, I was having a very ominous feeling about wearing them.

"Go get ready." *** Mariana found the perfect nightclub attire which was a backless bodycon, short mini dress with sequins glitter sparkle deep V-neckline. The dress accentuated her breasts, and shapely round her ass, giving her a sultry and attractive appearance. She paired the dress with her black heels that were still laid inside the box. She was getting out of the room, when Marcello came out from his. Her blood thrummed at seeing him in a black suit with a solemn expression . He was just too handsome. Too strong and rough.

Slit up the thigh—almost to my hip. The fabric caught light when it moved. Liquid. Predatory. I put it on. Looked at myself. My hair fell in waves past my shoulders. Same wine-red as the dress. My body filled out the fabric like it was made for me—because it was. I looked like sin. I looked like power. I looked like a woman who'd burn your world down and not lose sleep. The woman in the mirror smiled. There you are. Marcel sent a car. Black. Sleek. One of two in the world, he'd said. Custom. Bulletproof glass. Engine that sounded like a threat.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE She walks toward me. Not rushes. Not strides. Walks. Every step is intentional. Deliberate. Like she's taking her time on purpose. Like she wants me to feel every second of her approach. Her heels click against the marble floor. Sharp. Rhythmic. Impossibly high and flashy, red soles that I recognize even from a distance. Louboutins. Probably custom. Probably worth more than everything I own. She looks extremely intimidating.

What did Marceline want from me, that she had gotten rid of all potential witnesses? "Enjoying yourself, are we?" Marceline’s voice was venomous, and it cut through the air like a blade. I didn’t answer. My mouth opened, then closed, like some idiot gasping for breath. My mind was spinning. How had she found me here? And so quickly? Had she been watching me all along? "What the hell happened at Ravenbrook?" she spat, stepping forward, her heels clicking menacingly on the polished floor. Her voice was shrill, like that of a hag, and I couldn’t help the flicker of disgust that crossed my face. She saw it.

The sharp sound of stiletto heels echoed on the marble floor. When the pair of black, red-soled high heels—identical to the ones Elara used to wear—appeared in front of him, Harvey's eyes widened in shock!

“I’ve got a pair of boots for you to try on. Mr. Kane took a guess on the shoe size.” Opening the door, I find her holding up exactly what I’d envisioned pairing the dress with if I was dressing it down. I grab them, thanking her and shutting the door again. Taking a seat, I slip each one on. I pull them all the way up my leg until there’s only a small amount of skin showing between the top of the boot and the bottom of my dress. There are laces on the back of the boots that fall to mid-calf. The boots are a perfect fit. I have no idea how Marcus knew the things he did, but by the first outfit and the way it fits, he didn’t do bad at all when he filled out the information for the appointment

His voice was firm, though his mind was clouded with questions. La Rouge pulsed with red neon lights. Music throbbed, laughter and dancing filled the air. Adrian walked in with steady steps, his tall figure standing out in the crowd. His eyes instantly landed on Marceline, seated elegantly in the VIP lounge, clad in a shimmering black gown with a glass of wine in hand. “Adrian.” Marceline offered a faint smile, as if there were no hostility between them. “At last, you came.” “What exactly is your purpose, calling me to a place like this?” Adrian sat across from her, his gaze icy.

she declared. “Is this like the gladiators? A fight to the death?” “I’m serious. I’m reducing my shoes and clothes by 50 percent. So I can find things. So I won’t be so overwhelmed.” I nodded, studying her long, lean legs. The left ended in a red wedge pump. The right ended in a bright yellow, four-inch heel. “They’re both highly impractical,” I said. She harrumphed but then laughed and added, “OK, I can see that.”