Moderno Novels & Stories

Hе was right, іt all lооkеd very mоdеrn, іn nеutrаl tоnеѕ аnd vеrу mіnіmаlіѕtіс. The ѕооthіng аrоmаѕ of a combination оf dіffеrеnt оіlѕ filled thе air. I wаѕ аlrеаdу bеgіnnіng tо unwind, and we’d bаrеlу walked through thе dооr.

I nod my head in response and look over to Melissa who seems to be unhappy about her friend complimenting my dress. "What is the name of your mother's clothing brand?" Clara asks, curiously. I smile and say, "Little Angels." Melissa's expression completely changes from unhappy to shock while the other girls gasp as if they didn't believe what I said. "As in the famous Little Angel fashion designer Nova Swift? The same one who designs dresses for famous celebrities when they walk down the red carpet?" Brielle asks again. I nod my head in response and say, "Yeah that's my mom."

The only sound was the laughter of a few female maids chatting together in their room. Carrying my backpack, I walked slowly toward the interior of the house. The first room I passed through was a fairly spacious dining room. Elena Moore was a modern minimalist. This was the complete opposite of the wealthy women in Brimston, who favored grand furniture and an abundance of luxury items. Elena didn’t have many possessions, neither in the kitchen nor in her dining room. The furniture she’d chosen had a minimalist and simple design.

Hunter calls me fat, and my agent says I don't eat enough. Freddie, my agent, nicknamed Red by his lady friends, is understanding of my thyroid issues. Hunter thinks it's a made-up issue. A scar on my neck could ruin my life and my model career. The magazine that sponsors me as their poster child is called Model Perfect. They get my image, and I get their merchandise. They sponsor my college fund and own me. I'm only in it for the college money.

At the door, the woman was shocked. “I apologize. I'm not sure where the lounge is located.” Clarence stopped walking. Glancing over from the side, he saw an unidentified woman waiting at the door. With a small furrow on his elegant eyebrows, he said, "Who are you?" Modesty was quite uncomfortable. She blushed and clutched her hands nervously. "I'm Modesty Parker, an SG Jewelry Magazine jewelry designer. I'm here to express my gratitude, Mr. Conrad."

The first thing my eyes grasped about him was a long deep scar that ran from the middle of his left cheek ending at his ear lobe. My eyes moved to his thin lips which were set into a smirk. A noticeable mole sat on the tip of his crooked nose. His honey-brown orbs were fixed on Kendal while moving in her direction. My eyes trailed his well-maintained body cover in a perfectly tailored suit. His looks weren't that over the top, but he wasn't ugly or unfortunate looking either. The man is probably in his early to mid-forties. He walked straight toward Kendal and what he did had my eyes almost losing their vision. He bent down and captured her lips in a long passionate kiss. The sound of the li

From the manner in which he battled for his viewpoint and the manner in which I battled for mine, it's clear that this would be a point of contention between someone whose designs are influenced by modernism and art deco and someone who places a high accentuation on contemporary styles. "Even if I am the greatest painter in the world, I won't be able to paint your emotion right now," Sadie remarked. After hearing her statement, I let out a hiss. "I heard that you'll be competing in the design contest with Rhio. You're one hell of a lucky lady," she added. My scowl lines become somewhat more profound. "How did you know about that?"

But Grant would never want to live in a turn-of-the-century house with a leaky faucet, squeaky steps, and outdated heating system. For a moment shame weighs on me, but then I remember how much I love the arches, original woodwork, and our huge front porch. It's not that Grant Moore is too good for our house, but we're too good for him. He'll probably end up in a modern, bland, featureless place. It will have smooth walls and straight floors, and it'll lack character.