Moulin Rouge Sparkling Diamonds Novels & Stories

Like a dark dream. Rose petals. Deep red. Almost black in the candlelight. Scattered across the marble floor in a deliberate path. Leading from the entrance through the living room to the dining area. Like a trail of blood. Like marking territory. The dining table. Transformed. Black silk tablecloth. Crystal so fine it looked like ice. Silverware that gleamed like blades. Two settings. Intimate. Private. Perfect. And in the center—champagne. Dom Pérignon Rosé. $40,000 a bottle. Chilling in a bucket of ice carved to look like a rose. Decadent. Excessive. Exactly right.

I spare a glance at Nick, who’s walking alongside me, his palm at the small of my back (where I like it) as the maître d’—dressed in grey tails with gloves—escorts us to the table Claire has reserved for us against the wall of windows that overlooks the marina. I’ve chosen a satiny sapphire, slightly off-the-shoulder sheath with complementary platform shoes that have Swarovski crystals embedded in the five-inch heels. I’m carrying a sparkly silver triangular clutch with a diamond-encrusted ring handle. Forgoing a necklace, I instead found the perfect pair of flashy diamond-and-platinum dangling earrings and a matching tennis bracelet in my new jewelry wardrobe.

A woman near the fountain dropped her champagne flute as the glass shattered on the stone. Xavier did not move. His jaw tightened until the bone showed against his skin as his fingers opened. The navy velvet ring box fell from his hand, hitting the marble with a dull thud, bounced once, and lay open near his shoe. The diamond inside caught the chandelier light. Then the crowd shouted at us as. Mira crossed the distance between us in strides, her arm swung wide and she gave Xavier’s left cheek a hot slap which people never expected. The sound echoed off the glass walls of the conservatory as everyone gasped in shock.

Liam remarks to Michel. While glancing out the car window, Liam closes the file. "Hey, let me have a look at this pink one," Rose says to the lady, pointing to the pink diamond. "Yes ma'am, just a minute," the lady says as she hands a little black pendant to a customer. "This is an ordinary pink diamond with a scratch that represents a lost love. Would you like to see the purple one we have?" With a smile, the lady inquires of Rose. "If there are more colours of it, then I can think of more things," Rose explains with a nod.

Each dancer made rounds on the floor after they performed, picking up some random schmuck who'd grease their palm with a hundred bucks to have them grind their lap with no hope of anything further. Diamond's second number left me more riled up than the first, and just like the two times previous that I'd watched her perform, I was ready to chew nails and kill anyone who dared cast a glance in her direction much less lay a finger on her. I'd had three drinks and didn't need any more if I planned to drive home, but I'd be damned if I could sit around without a sedative to keep me from stomping onto the stage, throwing her over my shoulder, and marching her perky tits out of this hell hole.

"Thank you, your grace." Nylian ruffled his hair and joined his lover for their first dance. "Shall we dance son?" the red-haired offered her dance. "With great pleasure." he bowed to her and held her hand. Everyone was amazed by the two Gemmas dancing next to them. Their shiny red and diamond hairs were brightening the main hall with their strong lights. Jimmy could not stop looking at his mother, he was so happy to finally have her in his life. It was too beautiful that it was so difficult for him to believe it.

She lets out a low laugh but is still cautious. "It's hard to relax when you're analyzing me like a wolf looks at a lamb." I smile, picking up the glass of mineral water the waiter just served. "If I were a wolf, I would have already attacked." The sommelier returns with a bottle of Château Margaux 2015—a full-bodied red, with notes of cassis and tobacco that will pair perfectly with our dishes. While he serves, I watch Elizabeth. She studies the ruby liquid in the glass with curiosity, swirling it slightly before bringing it to her lips.

Killing those who were supposed to be some of the best fighters in the pack always bought about a sense of happiness, knowing I was one step closer to being able to seek my revenge. In the ten years I had been living as a rouge the thought of actually meeting my mate was something which had crossed my mind on a couple of occasions, but they were brushed to the side as quickly as they came. At almost twenty-eight I had pretty much accepted that I was never going to find my other half and, even if I did find him now, then I would be sure to reject him. "Well, well, well, if it isn't the infamous rogue," one of the males chuckled when they finally came to a stop where I was readying myself.

My voice carried, and while I was concerned that someone might interrupt me before I got to take a swing, I couldn't control my temper. "You own nothing, Rogue. You aren't welcome here." His lip curled in disgust, and he snarled as he spoke to me, a speck of spit flying out of his mouth. "That's the beautiful thing about being a rogue, Ethan. I go and do whatever the fuck I want," I said, stepping forward until I was only a few feet away. "What do you want from me?" He hadn't moved back, and that was both stupid and admirable. Any smart man or woman would have run by now. Yet, he was holding his ground.

I promise to be discreet and not to disturb you--" "You can disturb us and take up all the space you want," cut in Marguerite. "Do you want more meat, my Loulou?" Harry blinked for a moment. Ambroise approached him and poured him a glass of red wine. "Here, son. This will relax you a little. You're so young and look like you're about to crack any moment. Here, Domaine Emmanuelle, you're never disappointed by its vintages." Harry had to wait for Marguerite to translate the words for him. He thanked Ambroise before taking a sip.