Mysterious Personal Shopper Novels & Stories

Her teeth shine as she smiles and waves her hand excitedly in Edna's face. Edna doesn't return her warmth or even greet her. She stares at her from her head to her toes with a stand-offish glare. "Yes?" She raises her brow. " What can I do for you?" "Hi, my name is Emily. " Emily smiles a lot. " I'm a fashionista and a personal shopper and I have been sent here to assist you in shopping for some clothes. " "Clothes?" Edna tilts her head as the frown on her face grows, she doesn't remember either Malik or Mary saying anything about this to her. She smells foul play.

Tila, my personal shopper at the luxury department store greets us with hugs. She has been Mom’s go to personal shopper for years. Mom always said having a woman like Tila in your corner is clutch. A good relationship with someone like her can help you look like a million bucks on any budget or blend seamlessly into a crowd if you’re trying to stay incognito. Tila has so many high end clients that she’s learned the art of keeping secrets. The things women must have told her in confidence over the years could probably make front page news a hundred times over. “Tila! Good to see you!” I kiss her cheek. “Can we get some water and maybe a cheese plate? We’re going to be here a while?”

I asked. I didn't exactly have this part of the impromptu client on his schedule. “A personal shopper,” he said casually and began to walk forward I frowned in confusion. “What?” I ran after him. “You dragged me here to get a personal shopper? What happened to Bethany?” As far as I knew, he already had a personal shopper and she was pretty good at what she did. “She's my shopper. We are here for you.” He said, walking into an expensive looking clothing store.

I instructed suddenly. My driver pulled to the curb without comment. The store was closed, of course, but the side entrance for personal shopping appointments had a discreet buzzer. I had an account so they'd open for me. I stepped out into the cold, coat unbuttoned, breath fogging and stepped Inside, the night security recognized me immediately, called up to the personal shopping manager on duty. Within minutes, a woman in a sleek black dress appeared, her hair perfect despite the hour, smile professional and warm.

Her expression clearly showed that she was shocked at that revelation, but the interviewer only smiled as if he didn’t realize what he had done. She released a smile and swept her hair behind her ear, “Yes, you are right. I am the secretary to CEO Tom Holland”, she confirmed and a series of gasps filled the room. “But is that a problem?” she questioned, and the interviewer hesitated before asking her what was on his mind. “You must have heard about the ripped clothes incident that happened yesterday. What is your thought about the carelessness of Shellhouse Mall, which is considered the biggest mall in Chicago?” he questioned further, and the expression on her face turned dark.

I smiled at them, and they nodded. “Hey Maya, this is your new personal shopper and stylist.” Alexander said with a smile. I didn’t even have time to protest at this new development before I was ushered outside to Alexander’s car. We were going shopping. I was a little apprehensive as I climbed into the back of the sleek black car with the driver, my personal stylist, and my personal shopper. The car smelled of fresh leather, and I fiddled nervously with her hands in my lap as the driver pulled away from the curb and headed toward the store.

“To feed you, then we talk, and fuck later.” She smiled. “So what happened is reversed. Now tell me who’s that woman?” I looked at her. There was a trace of jealousy in those hypnotic eyes. My heart swelled. “Personal stylist. I always called her if I need a personal shopper. That’s why I was texting her earlier, asking if how long would it take to finish the job because I wanted to have you all by myself.” “Hmm. Rich people.” “Hungry?” Her stomach grumbled, making her giggle.

They did leave an impression alright, just not the good one. “You know, I’m curious too,” Helen says from behind me. The young woman had grown tired of me talking and actually started walking away slurping her bowl of soup while walking. Or to be more specific, because of her huge belly, it looked like she was waddling to an empty seat. “With the amount of things you have to spend money on, how could you still have enough to spend on shopping?” “Time management and smart shopping mostly,” I look up and tap my chin. “I’ve searched the internet for the jobs that paid well. I work as a personal shopper, a math tutor for Thomas, and as an entertainer at Ardere.”

One of the maids stood there—a slim woman in her thirties with dark hair pinned neatly back and a tray balanced on her hands. “Good evening, signora,” she said, voice lilting. “Macarons. From the kitchen.” The pastel shells glowed faintly under the light. She set the tray down on the side table and gave me a polite smile. “I’m Anita. I’ll be looking after you this weekend. If there’s anything at all you need—tea, laundry, shopping—you just call, yes?” “That’s very kind of you, thank you.” Anita lingered a moment, eyes flicking toward my half-unpacked suitcase. “I’m also an excellent personal shopper,” she said lightly. “So if any last-minute events come up, I’d be happy to help you pick the

A tall man in a black suit stands beside it, white dress shirt crisp, his face carved into something unreadable—like he’s guarding a king. “Hi,” I say, unsure how else to greet him. “Hello, ma’am,” he replies, voice clipped and professional. Ma’am? That alone feels surreal. “Mr. Ravelli asked me to take you to a boutique and a hair salon. Stephanie, his personal shopper, will see to it that you’re fitted for everything you need before I drive you to him.” “What?” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. My brain scrambles, tripping over itself. A boutique? A personal shopper?