Mr Fashionable の小説・ストーリー

she asked softly, her eyes searching his face, hoping for a different answer. Maurice turned, fully facing her now. His expression wasn’t harsh, but firm, as if carrying the weight of a father talking sense into a daughter. He stepped closer, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. “Mia, listen to me carefully. You don’t need to wear clothes like this to be beautiful. True beauty is not about showing everything to the world. It’s about grace, dignity, and the way you carry yourself. I don’t want you mistaken for the kind of girls who believe they must expose themselves to get attention. You are different, Mia.”

The first one was a lace high-neck long-sleeve midi dress, while the other one was a classic white with a square neckline. “Either way, it’s the person who wears it.” I smiled, turning around. “Wow. You look hot.” Mad was already wearing a white crisp shirt and dark pants, and he looked like he had just walked out of a men’s fashion magazine photoshoot. I closed the distance between us, tiptoed to kiss his lips carefully, not to leave a lipstick stain. “And you’re gorgeous.” His hands came to my waist, traveling down to my ass. I was wearing underwear inside the robe, but I felt naked through his intense gaze. He then takes my hand. “Come with me.”

He looked perfect in his navy suit. But then she saw it. Franklin reached out to adjust his cufflink. As his sleeve pulled back, Aria saw the edge of his shirt cuff. It was frayed. Just a little. A tiny unraveling of thread at the seam. Franklin Stone never wore frayed shirts. He bought his shirts from a tailor on Savile Row who flew to New York twice a year for fittings. He was a man who believed appearance was the only reality that mattered. Aria looked at her mother. Eleanor was wearing her signature pearls, but her ring finger—usually adorned with a five-carat solitaire—was bare.

She was still not over with Miliani's hair when Jessica along with Tulip knocked on the door. Both Mili and Willa could not figure out what to do with Mili's long, wavy hair. Jessica silently observed Miliani's limited edition custom-tailored dress - a floor-touching elegantly black gown with a deep front slit. But her makeup and hair weren't up to the level of her attire. Minimal and basic accessories, unruly hair and amateur makeup made her look miserable in Jessica's eyes.

“You’re not still clinging to that cheating excuse of a husband, are you?” I scoffed. “Please. I’m done with his sorry ass.” “Good, that's my girl,” she said firmly. “Then I’ll see you tonight.” And she hung up. By evening, it was almost time for the social banquet, the annual elite dinner attended by the city’s wealthiest figures. Millionaires. Billionaires. People who smiled too much and meant too little. I was still at my penthouse, debating my dress choices, when the doorbell rang. Madison stood outside, already dressed to impress, with a makeup artist beside her. She didn’t waste time. Within minutes, I was seated while the artist worked magic on my face. Madison helped me pick a dress

Begrudgingly, she replied [“Fine”] Later that evening, Mirable arrived at the upscale restaurant Franklin had chosen. She was dressed in a tailored navy blazer and pencil skirt, professional as always. Franklin stood waiting for her near the entrance, his usual stoic demeanor in place, though there was a flicker of something softer in his eyes when he saw her. “Franklin” she greeted, her tone clipped but polite. “Mirable” he said, gesturing for her to follow him inside.

He replied. “OK,” Cora hurried to the counter to get the coffees. “Get me flat white too!” The rich lady yelled. After Cora and Mr. Clem left, Anamika moved her gaze to the rich lady, only to find her rolling some strand of her blond hair on her finger while looking at her man with a coquettish smile. The lady instantly regained her composure and smiled at Anamika. “CEO Mika, the new Mikatin lipstick is so elegant. Because of the love I have for it, I bought five sets. I gifted my friends three sets and they haven’t stopped praising me since.

I let the breeze tangle my hair and pretended I wasn’t completely unraveling inside. Macey flipped the visor mirror down. “I have exactly two zits and zero dresses for Milan. I’m a walking emergency.” I smiled. “You’ll be the hottest one there. Milan won’t know what hit them.” She winked. “That’s the goal.” We hit every store that had lighting kind enough for selfies—Zara, Mango, that fancy boutique with the velvet sofas and water in wine glasses. Macey tried on a dramatic red dress that made her look like an expensive scandal. I found a pair of soft denim shorts that hugged my hips in the kind of way that made me feel hot.

It was a place where morality went to die, and for Madison, it was the perfect hunting ground. She stepped through the heavy doors of the bar up west, and the atmosphere shifted instantly. She was a vision of lethal elegance, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders in loose, glossy waves that caught the strobe of the dim lights. Her red lipstick was applied with surgical precision—a bold, defiant crimson that made her teeth look startlingly white. Her clothes were deliberately alluring, an outfit made from sheer fabric that hugged her body provocatively and did not leave much to the imagination.

Which means speaking my mind and putting anyone who dares try to degrade me in their place. ***** “Wow! Beautiful,” Mason’s voice came from the door of my suite. He leaned up against the door frame to my bathroom, wearing a three-piece suit. His muscular arms stretched the sleeves of the black jacket. His dark eyes took me in appreciatively. I took one last look in the mirror. My hands smoothed down the sheer fabric of the sheer gold dress I had picked out from the boasting closet that had been picked for me. “You don’t look so bad yourself” I replied giving him a once-over. Mason was tall, then again everyone was tall to me. A handsome werecat, with a killer smile and dimples that made you