Monique Gibeau Novels & Stories

"You can call me Monica." Anthony just nodded slowly. The woman seemed to have marked him since the first day he stepped into the hall. Monica Adler came from Ireland. She was a professor in the field of macroeconomics and was very famous for her ideas for developing the economy in Ireland. But despite her genius and beauty, Monica was an annoying woman because she was always trying to get his attention. "Tonight there will be a gala dinner and dance party." "Yeah, I heard about it," Anthony sipped his coffee slowly.

She felt relieved when she closed the doors and went back to her seat. Like any other assassin, she had done her research. She was iconic in the fashion industry and had her own fashion line and was an investor in many popular cloth and shoe brands. She was rich, famous and was head over heels for Levi Wushi. However, even though she had everything she could ever want, she couldn't get any love or affection from Mr. Wushi.

She said, smiling shyly. "Makaila.... Wow!...." I was literally speechless. She giggled. "A bad wow or good wow?" She smirked. "Neither. Good can not be used to compare how you look right now, Makaila. You look so Amazing." I smiled. She smiled back at me. "Thank you. You don't look bad yourself." She brushed her fingers on the arm of my arm and I swear that single touch did things to me. Wonderful things. "Alright. Let's take a group picture." Monica said. I took Makaila's hands and went to stay beside Nigel and Rita and we took several shots. And soon we were on the road.

Camila I stared at the mirror unsure if the person I was looking at was me. My long black was braided a tone side and left to rest on the other side of my shoulder, my brown eyes were bright yet had a sad gleam to them. I wore a long handless black gown that had a long slit, up to my knee. I applied some lipstick and paired my outfit with a silver pair of high heels.

“Let me see… Are we talking about someone good? Who she can get you an appointment with?” Blaze threw the dish towel at him. “You’re annoying. Not just someone, Fabien. We’re talking about the greatest of them all: Dr. Phillipe Durand. He’s like… a god with hands of gold in his field.” She pressed her hands together. “I mean, Dr. Berger was great, but… come on… Dr. Durand! I’m pinching myself. Monique has a follow-up appointment with him today, but she’s going to ask him if he will see me instead. Isn’t that amazingly generous of her?”

Then he checked the time on his watch and said, “I’ll tell the cook there’ll be more people for lunch and dinner.” “You got back the Patek Philippe Monica gave you?” Rael smiled, looking at the watch on Gabe’s wrist. “That’s great, Gabe! I thought it’d be nearly impossible.” Gabe lowered his arm, subtly tucking it behind his body. “Who’s Monica?” I asked, confused. “Monica? Gabe didn’t tell you about Monica?” Jorel narrowed his eyes, laughing mockingly. “To know Gabe, you need to know about Monica.”

“I wasn’t.” “Damn. How come you don’t know Dominique Gray? He’s fucking popular. He’s literally a billionaire who’s got everyone under 40 talking about him.” “Wow. My bad that I didn't know anybody called Dominique Gray existed until today. I’m a nurse. A nurse has no business with politics or some super hot billionaire.” Monique’s eyebrows instantly elevate as she smirks. “Oh, my god, you think he’s hot.” “Isn't he hot though?”

I could say that it wasn't fair, but life was never fair in general, especially for those who weren't rich. I would probably end up in jail for murdering one of the customers... or Christine if it weren't for Monique and Marco, my coworkers and friends. Monique was a half-Spanish, feisty girl with a heart of gold. She had a ton of dark-brown curls on her head, brown eyes, a beautiful, tanned complexion, and a gorgeous smile. Marco was a 6-foot-tall Italian gay with a Greek god's body and a deceiving smirk that fooled 99% of women. Both of them were like my personal rays of sunshine, getting me through even the gloomiest day.

Monica almost forgot and quickly said, "Sorry, Sunohara-san, it is my first time to see a girl with gyaru style, by the way, my name is Monica Oga, nice to meet you." "Eh? Really? So has Nana taken your first time?" Nana asked with a teasing smile. "...If you say something like that, you're going to misunderstand the people around us," Monica said with a speechless expression. Nana chuckled and said, "It's hilarious, but is it your first time to see gyaru?" "Yes, in Kyoto, I have never seen a girl with gyaru style," Monica said. "Eh? Really? You're from Kyoto? That's kind of cool!" Nana seemed to be very excited when she heard that Monica was from Kyoto, but then there was one important ques

Zaeion said while shaking his head. "Well, whatever you say, pheasants. In the end, she's still nothing but a bee who keeps on leeching around flowers with nectars she can use. She's a slut and a sore loser in the past who only knew how to rely on men, don't you think she's still like that now? Six guys at the same time? Ew," Monique said with an incomparable amount of disgust.