Modiste Bridgerton Novels & Stories

Floor-to-ceiling shelves, glass display cases, coordinated racks everywhere. Chanel. Dior. Off-White. Alexander McQueen. And so many more names I couldn’t even pronounce. This is luxury… fuck, I whispered under my breath. It felt like walking into a museum of fashion and wealth. I reached for a burgundy silk corset dress with a perfect tight slit. Crazy! This is given modern day Bridgenton. I dropped it back, shaking my head, and searched for something more basic. I couldn’t find any outfit that felt simple enough.

"Also that time I decided to become a doctor, things happened, tragedies occurred. Everything was a mess, it was chaos. Even me who was trying to do my job as a doctor was in turmoil. I fell in love with a human, Sebastian. Not to an aristocrat, or even to an illegitimate of any clans, or to their servant; but to a being who might disappear anytime, fragile and stupidly brave for his good. Then everything went down to drain, it cost my best friend and Charlie's wife's life. It's so horrible that even I who has been used to fighting, cannot believe that it happened." She started to collect the papers she needs to find another model to walk it up on the runway. "Milady, your feat is quite diff

It seemed like the moment she lost sight of one, identifying him again would become impossible. "That one has been staring at you, you know," Aunt Adeline whispered into Cassandra’s ear. Cassy looked up to find one of the twins staring back at her over the sea of swarming debutantes. His gaze was calm, a little smile playing at his lips with a prominent dimple beside them. Cassy stared down at her powder-blue satin gown with a blond lace overlay which complimented her eyes. Her hair tied in a neat bun above her head framed her face perfectly, which it should have seeing as the dowager duchess had done it herself right before they left.

She was a bought bride, with just about every detail of her old life stripped away from her—except for the one thing he didn’t want to have and wished weren’t there at all. Bending down, she flicked through a stack of soft designer lingerie. Sexy, every single set—purchased to seduce—plus bikinis in different styles and colors but no modest one-piece. Then there were the clothes that screamed designer at her—bright, modern, chic, and sassy to reflect current fashion trends. Great.

A lady whispered to her friend. "They certainly do. Aniston always knows how to make an impression. But bringing Jada here, knowing how his family feels about Melissa is one bold move." With her radiant smile and ethereal aura, Jada exuded an undeniable magnetism that captivated the hearts and minds of those around her. Her silver gown, carefully chosen to accentuate her every curve, shimmered under the enchanting glow of the chandeliers. The delicate embroidery and intricate beadwork seemed to come alive, sparkling like stars in a moonlit sky.

she said, nodding toward the dress. “Oh, of course.” I straightened, stepping away from Cristiano reluctantly. He watched as the assistant led me back to the changing room, his eyes following me with a possessive gleam. As I stood there, the seamstress made small adjustments, tucking and pinning the fabric with swift precision. She was silent at first, her hands deftly working on the gown, but then she glanced up at me, a warm smile on her face. “You know, Mrs. Morano,” she began softly, “you’re very lucky to have a husband like Mr. Morano. He looks at you like… well, like you’re his whole world.”

the person with the voice startled her the more. "Milord." She gave a slight bow and stood up. Her silvery gown brushed past his leg and he took a step backward. "How are you finding the party Little Beatle?" He asked, his eyes rounding the number of people in the house. "Pardon me Milord, but my name is Beatrice not Beatle." She corrected with a smile. She was not little, she was a full-grown woman. At the age of Nineteen, she was already full and ready to get married.

Aiden’s father was in the forefront, followed by Aiden and I. I noticed something in the lady’s dressing. It was an eighteenth-century fashion. Maybe Aiden has arranged a ball, like that in Lady Whistletown’s piece, the Bridgerton series. “No offence, sire,” she sounded refined, like the most brilliant figure picked from the past and brought to the present to block our way and tell us whatever she has in stock for us. “What do you wish for, woman?” Aiden’s father mimicked her tone. Everyone except me laughed. I was merely curious to figure out what luxury they have in stock for us this time.

The rustle of delicate parchment filled the silence. Suddenly, one gown stood out, distracting her from the anger simmering beneath her. The gown was a masterpiece of refined sensuality. The gown featured a sleek, body-hugging silhouette in pure white silk. The corseted bodice molded perfectly to the figure, accentuating every curve without excess. Hand-stitched lace cascaded from the sweetheart neckline and trailed seamlessly into the long, flowing train. It was sophisticated, bold, and undeniably modern. “I want this one, Tita,” Beatrice declared, tapping the image with a manicured finger.

The silence that fell when I entered the ballroom was so absolute that I could hear the exact sound of Sebastien’s heart stopping when he saw me. My heels clicked on the polished marble. *Click. Click. Click.* Like a clock ticking down the final seconds of a doomed man. The dress was black, strapless, with a side slit that revealed my leg exactly as far as I wanted. The diamonds around my neck and wrists didn't just sparkle; they blinded. Every stone had been bought by me, with a receipt in the name of **Grace Elizabeth Moreau, CEO of Steel & Diamond.**