روايات وقصص ضمن Mysterious Personal Shopper

She was to know the idiot who bought the new launch before her! Who gives the bastard the guts? She had made plans for the shoes and couldn't afford to lose them to whoever that bought the shoes. "Can you please tell me who bought all the shoes asked before, milady? " The secretary asked, before the shopkeeper could finish her words, She spotted a slender figure walking in with the company of five bodyguards and a shop worker. The lady quivers and lowers her head. "It... A crucial person. I can't be in the shoes to tell you that, madam” the shopkeeper said innocently. She was scared of losing her job!

“The doctor said that you can be moved in less than a week. So how about we just talk about how you want to decorate your living space.” “Decorate my living space?” she asked as she looked at him. She was confused by the way that he had described that instead of saying room like everybody else seemed to have here, she would have a living space? She knew over the past week, everybody had seemed to be a lot nicer to her. Even he had become more of a fixture in the medical Bay and not where he had been disappearing too beforehand. There was a lot of mystery around him, and right now, focusing on her mind, She was trying to figure out the mystery. She needed to find the mystery around herself

Four Years Later, "Let's go in." The click-clack of high heels echoed through the white building as a new figure stepped out of the car. All eyes were drawn to the dress that fluttered in the wind, its owner possessing a clear and serene face. This was Clara, the owner and ambassador of a world-renowned cosmetics brand. Clara was invited to an exclusive event for a fashion brand, celebrating the grand opening of their new building. As an ambassador, Clara, surrounded by a life of luxury, had captivated the world.

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.

Occasionally, she took on part-time work as a personal shopper. The job was demeaning, but at least it did not require her to show her face. Online transactions kept her identity a secret. Today, Nancy's customer wanted a limited-edition dress from a popular brand. After nearly three hours in line under the blistering sun, she finally stepped into the store. As she did, a sleek silver Pagani pulled up behind her.

“Someone helps you shop?” “I’ve dealt with two men’s clothing stores in Chicago for a few years. My personal shopper knows what I like.” “I’ve never met anyone with a personal shopper and wardrobe consultant. My God, you must be filthy rich.” He skirted the rich issue. “Do you think I’m a pansy-ass because I care how I look?” “No. Those shoppers are worth every penny because you always look smashing.” “Smashing?” Jack groaned. “Fuck. That word makes me sound like a metrosexual.”

The VIP fitting room in the exclusive luxury boutique was quiet and intimate — soft lighting, mirrored walls on three sides, and a plush velvet chaise in the corner. Sabrina stood in the center, tablet in hand, trying to stay professional. At 20 years old, she was one of the youngest personal shoppers at the boutique, and landing a private session with Klaus Reinhardt — the ruthless 38-year-old billionaire known for his impeccable taste and even more impeccable reputation — was a huge opportunity.

She said as she pushed her trolley close to his so that people could pass. "Yup. You should come have a taste sometime" "Well that'll be nice but I can't" "Why?" he asked.His brows furrowed. "Because, my stomach doesn't really sit well with people food". He just simply nodded and pushed his trolley and her's to check out. "What are you doing?" She asked. "I'm not done shopping yet". "You'll get them"he simply said. "Right now, I need to take you to my home so that I can-"

Working with a personal shopper reminded me of costume fittings. My shopper's name was Ilona, and she spoke with a thick Hungarian accent. She had pictures of me and already knew what colors went best with my skin tone. She guided me through the shopping district on the Strip. Each store we went into was expecting us with a glass of champagne ready. I would sit near the fitting room while Ilona worked with the women in the store. They would bring dresses, she would send most of them back, and the few we kept, I would then try on.

When she got one she stepped forward and introduced herself. Financial journalist. A publication I read regularly. Firm handshake. "I've been hoping to run into you," she said. "I'm working on a story." I waited. "There's something unusual happening in the private wealth space," she said. "Someone significant has been operating in this city for about eight months without leaving the kind of footprint you'd expect. A Zillionaire level individual who has gone to serious lengths to stay invisible." She looked at me directly. "Given your position I thought you might have heard something."