Marta De La Reina Novels & Stories

I hesitated to enter but I did nothing when he opened the door and pushed me softly. “I’m just out here, don’t be afraid” he said. Because I trusted him, I entered. Tito is my only family here. My parents have been dead for a long time and Tito said that because of the Vescinzo. The house where Mary and Aleng Madelaine live is not really ours. It belongs to Dela Torre. And the condo, Dela Torre also paid for it, Tito said. We are not really rich. We all look forward to the Dela Torre.

She replied with a small laugh. Of course she was friends with the owner of Kika’s Glamour. It was the biggest shopping center for wedding dresses in the continent. Their dresses were cutthroat expensive. Royal families, Chaebols, politicians, business moguls, celebrities, literally everyone who had billions in their accounts all came here for their wedding dresses. It was like a show of wealth for them. And Hailey was a Kings. The richest family in Canada. It was no surprise that she was well acquainted with the owner.

C. "What are you doing calling me from the States?" Mateo asked, a small smile touching his lips. "I am not in the States, darling," Victoria laughed, the sound sharp and confident. "I just landed in Spain. I am back in Madrid for a major corporate merger, and I expect you to host me properly. Let's get a drink tomorrow night and talk about old times."

The little woman drew herself up to what must be her most impressive height. Maybe four-ten. “I am not a cook.” She sounded outraged by the idea. “That narrows down the chances of it being poisoned then.” Mia strolled over to the tray, lifting the salver to nod appreciatively. “You may leave, Fifi.” “I am Selena Hernanda-Fuendo, descended from an Aztec princess and Cortez—” “As you said. You’re still dismissed, your highness.” Mia waved her toward the door, maintaining an aloof air until the other woman exited with

By the time Diego entered the compartment, Jacqueline was fast asleep. Curled up in a ball, toffee-brown waves tumbling over a delicate cheekbone, she looked very young, incredibly pretty, and alarmingly vulnerable. He looked at her for a while. She was now his wife. HIS WIFE. It was a disturbing moment of truth for Diego. She was now Jacqueline Maxwell Martinez del Río, the Duquesa de Altamira (Spanish for ‘Duchess of Altamira’). She had a lot of grounds for complaint, Diego acknowledged that.

"It could be a lot of different people. I decided to try my luck and g****e anyone affiliated with the St. Aliano Palace and the most significant person that appeared was this woman - Ramona Malatovia." That name - Malatovia. I've heard that name before. God, I've heard that name somewhere. "Who is she?" I ask Claude. "During the time of this e***l? Queen of Venetia. Right now? Queen mother of Venetia." I sigh, mostly because my head is throbbing from this information but also because it isn't computing in my brain. "Claude, what does any of this mean?"

“What happened? What’s going on, Marie inquisitively asked Rene as they entered the mall. “When people like that as if in merrymaking and haste walk in a place, a royal family arrived that they wanted to see. My friend told me that Prince Mharl will have a picture taken with the Princess of Spain, Princess Elizabeth I. Her surname is Bejol. They were reportedly engaged now.” Rene answered as he put the paper bags on the chair. “Is it okay for me that I will order a tea, sandwich with jam, and porridge?” “Actually, that’s the common breakfast here. But that’s okay for me.”

“Yes, but mother wasn’t here. She was also in Versailles. And planned to go with you. In case I may coincidentally see her—” “Who?” Frando eagerly asked and feel how he was trembling to hear Maria’s living in this castle, and was a princess of Crestile Kingdom. “Queen Maritz,” she quickly answered and probed his eyes after seeing his reaction turn into an ice. “Are you okay?” Maria tried to reach for Frando’s face, but he avoided it from her and left without any word.

I present to you the new Princess of Castile Harika first of Castile. At the end of the speech the old man finally takes his eyes off the paper and examined who was in front of him in amazement while saying: — It is better that memory has not really failed you Mr. Ronald son of the general because his words will be marked in history. We finally have a woman in the royal family to pass on the noble blood to the next generation. —The old man turns his gaze to the desk as he prepares to write the newly dictated speech and says:

Isabel Varela. Amara’s heart stopped. She moved closer to the glass, breath fogging it. “What… what is this?” “It was hers,” Milo said from behind. “Every night she danced here. Alone. In the dark.” The painting captured Isabel younger, fierce, fire in her eyes. A woman who’d survived hell. “She was more than your mother, Amara. She was la reina de fuego — the Queen of Fire.” Amara stared. “She was in the cartel…”