Novel & Cerita Milan Mirabella

"Check me out Michal, how do I look?" Mirabella twirled, she wore a long fitted black gown, a brown cross sandals her hair was packed into two buns, Michal applied nude make up on her face she looked good. "Gorgeous." Michal kissed a finger and threw it in the air. "Just that?" "Drop dead gorgeous." "God forbid, I'm not dead. I'm drop alive gorgeous."

Grainne: That's great, but why does a busy person like you have time to go online today? Mirror: I have completed my course at Milan Design Academy, and now I'm about to return home. Grainne: Are you a student at Milan Design Academy? (Shock icon) Mirror: Why are you surprised? Grainne: Before I only knew you were a designer, you gave me a lot of good advice, so I thought you were a famous designer in the world, I never expected you to be just a student blowing your nose. , don't come face to face with me in the future, I'm your senior! (Love icon)

As Zara and Regan walked in, a tall woman in a tailored pantsuit approached them with a gleaming smile. “You must be Zara,” she said warmly, shaking her hand. “I’m Mirabel, founder of the agency.” Zara smiled politely. “It’s an honor, ma’am.” “And this must be your soon-to-be husband,” Mirabel continued, turning to Regan with a knowing grin. “Regan Kareem. The news is all over the blogs. Who doesn’t know your father? A very powerful man.” Regan smiled, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

"Yes. I've heard of these people. They say magic rumours around these lands and not any ordinary person goes through here." "People hate what they fear. This land is owned by your late father and it's ran by a lady who goes by the name Maggot Cicero. Though she only met with your father and not with anyone else." "What are we to see around these lands then?" "Your welcome. My name is Janet " greeted a young lady who approached us anonymously. "The mistress is ready to have a word with you miss Lyle." She said having me worried to my feet for the fact that she knew who I was and named me out with my title.

I let things go on too long this morning—too polite, too focused on the council matters to realize Mira was pushing boundaries she had no business testing. I’m halfway up the marble steps of the main house when a familiar voice calls out, honeyed and elegant in its calculation. “Camille.” I resist the urge to sigh. Turning, I find Mira gliding toward me, every step perfectly placed as though the ground itself tries to keep up with her. She’s draped in soft silver fabric that clings to her curves, and her dark hair falls in meticulously arranged waves. Her smile holds charm, but not warmth. She has always been her grandmother’s favorite—and mine, once.

She had only come to appreciate Jared and he held her hands to tease her. But when Mirabel came in, he felt as if he owed her an explanation. And what the heck does that mean? Mirabel smiled, still standing. Jared hasn't offered her a seat,hence she remains on her feet. She was dressed in designers from her blouse down to her pair of shoes,she looked classic and beautiful. Mirabel indeed looked beautiful. She is more like the female Rodrigo in her facial look. Her almond grey eyes on a tall slim physique with a slightly curvy hips.

She raised her hand and fixed a rebellious lock of hair in front of her eyes. She sighed softly as she calmed down. She and Mirabelle really looked like two drops of water and she had the chance that nobody had: She was the look-alike of a princess and she should take advantage of it. She always knew how to differentiate her professional life from her personal life, so that's what she had to do... She was Mirabelle d'Orient, a princess and she should behave like one... Two knocks were heard at her door. She hurriedly closed the dressing room and took a good posture before allowing the one who had just knocked to enter... It was her two maids. Mila and Zora. Mirabelle had told her about them.

'I'm Mirabella, I worked for Mr Mateo. 'Mira the best singer of the year.' He said with a broader smile, his gaze more intense in an interesting manner and his soft palm tighten each tick of seconds. Mirabella suddenly felt her leg whispering weakness to carry her weight on. her hot body becoming hotter. 'erm..erm... May I have my hand back.' she managed to say with stammering in attempt to save herself the Shame she was about bringing upon her.

The administration building smelled like paper, polish, and something faintly metallic—like new beginnings pretending to be ordinary. Mira stood in line clutching a thin brown file to her chest, fingers tight around the edges as if it might disappear if she loosened her grip. Her name was written neatly on the cover. Mirabel Roland. She had written it herself last night, slow and careful, rewriting it twice until the letters felt right. This is real, she told herself again. Behind her, voices murmured. Laughter rose and fell. Someone complained about an early lecture. Someone else argued about parking.

I was going to save her from all of it even if I risked her hating me, we'd eventually work that out. Mirabella looked like the start of all my trouble. She was the matchstick in the midst of hay. She was a magnet pulling me so violently to her even from across the huge room and I was a hopeless needle circling back to her. I took a much needed sip of wine and tried to hold a conversation with Anthony, the CO of the company. “I don't know about any couple hosting a reception at a world attraction Museum.” He said with a pat to my back. I tore my eyes away from Mira but her laughter found its way to me. “I'm a man simply giving my wife her dream wedding.”