Novelas y relatos de Movie Christmas Story

“Mitchelle. I have dated women who wanted the cameras and attention. I have dated women who wanted to be seen with Jonathan Harrison. You look at me like you see the man and not the name. And that is what I want for my life next.” She found her voice quietly. “So what exactly are you saying?” He stood, moved around the table, and lifted her gently to her feet. His hands slid around her waist. “I am saying I want you to be mine. And I want to be yours. Not for a season. Not for a holiday. For as long as you will have me.” Mitchelle’s throat tightened painfully. “Jonathan,” she whispered. “That sounds like a confession.” “It is,” he said softly. “It is my Christmas Eve confession.”

Christian asked, a sly note back in his voice, and I was glad to get him out of whatever introspective funk he'd fallen into and back into something that sounded more like himself. “Yeah,” I told him. “Hawaiian pizza. Can't beat it.” Christian looked for a moment like he wasn't sure if he should believe me or not. Then, he burst out laughing. “And then, I curl up on the couch and watch all the Christmas specials that I can find,” I continued. “The best way to go.” “Maybe I'll have to join you,” Christian said, grinning fondly down at me. “Maybe you will,” I said.

Up in Chloe's room, she was glued to her phone screen, her face lit by the glow of whatever rom-com she had queued up. The door was open, so I walked in without knocking. She didn't notice. "What rom-com are we watching?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt. She pointed at the screen, grinning. "When Christmas Gets Romantic!" My breath caught. Of course. A movie about falling for someone you shouldn't. About crossing lines you can't uncross. Just like me and Silas. Except I wasn't some innocent heroine stumbling into love. I was the girl getting finger-fucked in a wine cellar by her best friend's father—and going back for more.

I've been ignoring him, but his persistence is becoming problematic. I deleted the message without reading it. The Christmas gala is in two days. The annual event where the city's elite gather to see and be seen, to make deals and alliances over champagne and caviar. I'll need to bring Ava, show her off as my devoted wife, maintain the illusion that everything is fine. She'll smile and play her part because she has no choice. Because I've made sure she has nowhere else to go and no one else to turn to. And I'll stand beside her, touching her waist, playing the role of perfect husband, hating myself a little more with every passing moment.

However, as I turned to leave, Louis took my hand and said, "No matter what your mom says, I'll only believe what I see. "Our wedding will go ahead as planned. Don't you dare think about leaving me." My eyes stung with unexpected tears. This was the first time anyone had chosen to believe me despite my mother's words. … After the disastrous Christmas dinner, Louis noticed my lingering gloom and suggested that we go on a road trip for a few days. We chose to go to a nearby small town. The festive atmosphere here felt much richer. The food was also wonderfully fresh. Louis and I had a great time.

On Christmas Eve, I finally dragged myself out to beg for food. The giant screen outside the mall was blasting headlines about Leon and Chloe. Apparently, to welcome Chloe to the family estate, Leon had dropped a ridiculous amount of money lighting up the entire city. Everything would go off at midnight. Under the screen, a kind shop owner handed me a bread roll. I scarfed it down, thanking him again and again. Didn't matter that I stayed tucked in a corner. Security still came over and chased me off. Night fell. My whole body shook as the last bit of warmth drained out of me.

The Christmas lights outside were still blinking, but all I could see was Finnick Carson and his picture-perfect family of three. I never would've imagined this. The man who once promised to protect me for the rest of my life had turned around and built a family with someone else. When I got back, I collapsed onto the couch, curling into myself as the sobs finally broke free. We had been together for years and married for five, and I had always believed we would be together forever.

Whispers followed me everywhere. "I can't believe she's that kind of person." "The more innocent they look, the wilder they are." "That coat she's wearing? It's Chanel's latest. The rumors on the campus forum must be true." I retrieved my phone to check the campus forum. My entire body was shaking from anger. Sharon actually spread dirty rumors about me on the campus forum. [A Golden Apple on Christmas Day Exposed Our Fake Friendship!] She accused me of flaunting wealth with a golden apple on Christmas Day and scamming them out of an expensive meal.

The night before Christmas, my husband makes it official with his 49th mistress. "Love of my life, @TiffanyVale." "Love of my life, @RomanBlackwell." Then he turns to me and tries to smooth it over. "She lost a dare. Don't take it to heart." Everyone laughs at me, but I don't make a scene. What they don't know is that I have a deal with the System. Every time Roman cheats, a year of his life transfers to me. By now, his 80 years are down to just one. All I have to do is make it past New Year's, and he drops dead of natural causes. Then I can take our three children and inherit the Blackwell family's trillion-dollar fortune.

In order to be believable, what you need to do was to stick to your story. “He keeps it in him all the time,” I bantered closing the door behind me with my foot. “How could I get it? It’s impossible! I’ve been with every business meeting possible and I couldn’t get a hold of it.” Mikhail roused from the bed, he scratched his bird’s nest of hair then grabbed the basket and fresh bedsheets from my hands. “I heard there’s going to be a big party before Christmas.”