Millie Fitzsimmons Novels & Stories

“I don't care. Hand it over. You have all these writes watches and look at your dress. I know Millie wouldn't hesitate to pay a hundred dollar for everything she needs to know.” “What. The. Fuck. You're crazy.” I sighed, frustration building over my head. She just smiled, which made it even more stupid. But I went ahead anyway and handed her the fifty dollars. “Oh but this is not for that question. I don't care. Just tell me who she worked with.” She took a glance at me, went silent and finally said, “Specific names cost extra." I groaned. This woman was unbelievable. Still, I paid again. "Millie had access to someone connected to a wealthy family. I think the Evercrest. But as far as I know

I swallow, “I can’t give him a show, you know I can’t—” “Relax.” She rolls her eyes, far too calm for the turmoil I feel right now. “He just needs a stripper, that’s all. All you need to do is dance.” “But I can’t!” I yell. “Well, you don’t have a choice. Mr. Voss has seen you, and he wants you. He isn’t someone you keep waiting, Callie.” She grabs my wrist, leading me away from the loud bass pulsing through my veins. With each step further, there’s even more privacy—like the large glass doors, red curtains, and dimly lit lights.

The morning sun felt warm on my skin as I stepped outside, and the Harrigan mansion’s driveway looked like it belonged in a magazine. Right there, leaning against her lilac car like she owned the place, was Millie Peterson. You couldn’t miss her—those soft curls bouncing around her face, oversized shades reflecting the gates behind me, and a pastel pink top covered in tiny crescent moons. Her wrists were adorned with gemstone bracelets, jingling with every move she made, and honestly, she sparkled every time she took a step.

If Eleanor wouldn’t help directly… perhaps she could find someone else who would. Millie walked into Richard's office confidently, her curly hair bouncing and her high heels clicking against the floor. The air was thick with her expensive perfume. Richard looked up, a bit surprised. "Well, look who's here," he said sarcastically. "I need your help," Millie said directly, not bothering to greet him. Richard leaned back and crossed his arms. "Let me guess. You pretended to be pregnant, got found out, messed up things for your sister, and now everyone dislikes you?"

She grinned at her perky aunt. “Oh yeah!” Millie had a smirk on her thin lips. “And what about you, little Geri Cherry, when are you going to get it through your pretty head that you’re wasting away chasing your smoke-filled dreams? Find yourself a millionaire before that hot body of yours goes all the way downhill.” “That what you did, Auntie dear? I didn’t know Randall Rogan was a millionaire back then.”

‘What? “Miss Simmons?” Sotiria felt as if a bolt of lightning had struck her. The satisfied smile on her face immediately froze like ice. “The Miss Simmons you just mentioned… What’s her name?” The makeup artist did not notice the change in Sotiria’s expression. She continued mumbling to herself and said, “Miss Simmons’s full name is Charlotte Simmons! I’m not boasting, Miss Green. I really did her makeup before. I’ve been a makeup artist for Miss Larson too. Objectively speaking, now that we’re talking about Miss Simmons, her looks were a whole level above Miss Larson’s. It’s no wonder she was the most wanted socialite at the time. Alas, beautiful women are often plagued by misfortune. Sigh

I washed her hair with a gentle, protective reverence, my fingers lingering near the heavy, swollen mark on her neck, watching the water turn pink around us. When we finally got dressed, we bypassed the heavy, suffocating ceremonial attire. Millie chose a simple royal blue dress that fell a little below her shoulders, leaving the raw, distinct puncture marks on her collarbone completely visible to the world. She paired it with a pair of simple gold slippers and gold earrings, wristwatch and bracelet. She didn’t bother to wear anything on her neck because the bite was still fresh and in its healing process, also, she needed to lay it bare for every eyes to see.

"It's - it's nothing,you were saying something about the date?" "Her name is Stephanie" She talked as Bart listened, though he still looked spaced out. "You look nervous,Steph" The middle aged woman who sat on the customer seat in Stephanie's Saloon. Stephanie Montgomery aged 27,she was a saloon owner. She had brown beautiful eyes and brown skin,her hair was made into dreadlocks.

Millie lamented, but ended up betraying herself when she let out a long yawn. “Your mother is right. You need to keep your eyes open to help her do the last fitting for her wedding dress, tomorrow. I'm counting on you to make her beautiful enough to take my breath away, when I see her at the altar.” Massimo joked, bringing Millicent closer to his chest so she could rest against his arms. “I will!” Millie yawned again, this time curling up as if she were planning to sleep right there in Massimo’s lap.