Mia And Vincent Pulp Fiction Costume Novels & Stories

After putting me on pills for the last few days I have been here. The maid combed my hair in front of the mirror and touched my face with some makeup. When she was done, she told me to wear the dress. I wore it without objecting, planning my escape. I picked up the scissors on the dressing table and placed them in the corner of my neck. The maid shrieked in shock and the door flung open. Vincent came in, wearing a dashing black suit. “What is wrong?” Vincent demanded in a harsh tone when he saw me holding the scissors to my neck.

I noticed Anna was watching me all along as I was fighting with myself and contemplating what I should do She faced me and said if I was scared and I didn't want to be seen I should back in the car. I told her not to worry, that everything was fine and I was going to go share the food with her. We entered the building and Anna went to see the Nun in charge. She was smiling so much and I just knew that they recognised us already. She sent some grown men to come with us to get the food from the car. I was already so lost in the work that I didn't remember anything. Infact I would never have thought that someone would have seen me and recognised me as I was dressed up in this manner.

Sarah Vincent clasps my hand tightly as we enter the party, filled with men in sharp suits and women wearing expensive cocktail dresses. It's one of those extravagant affairs that screams wealth and status. I couldn't get away with wearing denim shorts for this event, so I'm wearing a velvet dress that falls above my knees and high heels. My eyes sparkled with anticipation, but Vincent's grip tightened—a silent command to remain at his side. "Remember, you're here as my wife and I am well respected in this crowd," Vincent mutters, a sneer warping the corner of his mouth. "Don't embarrass me."

Just to make sure she would interrupt my next plan. With Ella incapacitated, I turned my gaze toward her wedding gown. It hung on the wall, mocking me. A surge of cold satisfaction washed over me. It was the perfect disguise, to get close to Miley. I slipped into the gown, the soft fabric brushing against my skin, a stark contrast to the dark intentions swirling in my mind. It felt strange, wearing her dress, but I couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at my lips. I was becoming her, even if only for a moment.

Everything she’d killed to keep… I saw it as worthless trash. That hurt worse than any punch. I opened my door and stepped inside. Vincent suddenly shouted: “Mia! You’re just going to abandon your own blood?!” I stopped, turned back, and said quietly: “I didn’t abandon you. You abandoned me… twenty years ago.” I closed the door. Silence hung outside for a long time. Then footsteps faded away. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. No joy. No pain.

The low hum of the engine made Maurice glance instinctively, and his gaze froze. From the car stepped a vision, Mia. The sunlight seemed to embrace her as she emerged in a fitted sky-blue gown, her long hair tumbling in waves over her shoulders, hazel-blue eyes gleaming beneath the lashes, lips flushed with the faintest rosy tint. She was radiant, dazzling like the sun itself, and for a fleeting moment Maurice could hardly reconcile her with the little girl he once held in his arms.

Mia's POV By the time I alighted from a cab that brought me to the club, you know disguising myself was part of the game plan, and so not coming with my car was a great step. I was fitted with a wire and fake ID, and I already had my role memorized: Aria Black, jazz singer from Philly. On getting closer to the club hall, I observed the dark velvet walls, chandeliers that dripped crystal, and shadows curling in corners like smoke. I stepped inside wearing a red silk dress that hugged my curves and heels sharp enough to double as weapons.

Should I have come up with some other way to test the sign that fated mates’ scents soothed each other? I heard muffled thumps and thuds from inside the sitting room, as if someone was shoving heavy objects around. What had I gotten myself into? A moment later, Vincent opened the door a crack and slipped outside without letting me glimpse the sitting room. I blinked in surprise at his appearance: his usual suit discarded, he wore slim dark jeans and a henley with rolled-up sleeves. I had to tear my eyes away from the exposed line of his collarbone, of all things.

Free first class spa treatment was every girl's dream. The girls rested for an hour before work started. For Avatia's hair, it was tied in an amazing messy bouffant bun, with tendrils by the side and as for Draya, her hair was fishtail braided. They both decided on nude gel nails as it looked more mature and matched their evening gowns. Avatia settled on light natural make up while the hot headed Draya went in for a hot look. In the end, both ladies looked absolutely gorgeous. By 6:40 PM, the same Rolls-Royce that had picked them up earlier was waiting for them.

Cara then took a step back. "Thanks for the save." She said, while taking note of Vincent's outfit. Vincent was dressed in a red and white candy-striped pair of pants. He also had a pair of black suspenders crossing over his defined and broad shoulders. "Anything for you." Vincent replied with a wink, then he walked away and headed downstairs.