Milan Mirabella Novels & Stories

Finally, Mirabel settled for a red sweetheart neckline dress, with a little touch of lip rogue she looks so stunning. "Purffect", Jennifer clapped eyeing Mirabel in admiration as she dropped the makeup kit which Mirabel refused to use on the bed. "Are you sure this will work", Mirabel asked softly for the hundredth time with her voice filled with uncertainty. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror she seemed uncomfortable at her exposed cleavages and thighs. "Yes, I'm sure Mimi. You definitely will get a fake husband with my top-notch plan!" Jennifer reassured. You heard them right.

"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 believes in her spirit that nothing can harm her as long as she is strong within herself. "I will not let anyone ruin this day for me!" Promising herself one last time, she started her car. ***** It’s a big event for the fashion world. The very famous fashion designer, Melissa Millar, known as the queen MM, is having her fancy designs exhibited by the top models of America. Melissa Millar is a twenty seven years old beautiful woman also known as the heartbreaker of the state. This famous fashion designer can top the look of the best model of the New York fashion industry.

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.

"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."

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 never wanted my daughter or fiance to get involved with my past life." Fabio chuckled. "Trust me, I understand that." "But Mira -" "Mira is the daughter of one of the most ruthless drug lords in Slavian country," Fabio said. "She got the ruthlessness from him. Don't be deceived by her flowery dress and soft voice, she can handle a gun better than both of us." Adriano looked at Mira as she wiped the counter with a wet napkin. "Do you guys need cookies?" She looked up. "I made a fresh batch."