Novelas y relatos de Our Glamorous Times

"I'll believe it when I see it, Mr. Billionaire Playboy." "Touché, Seraphina. Touché." We both laughed. Damien leaned back in his chair, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "So, Seraphina, have you ever attended the Golden Gala before?" I shook my head, my curiosity piqued. "No, I can't say I have. Is it as glamorous as they say?" Damien chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "Oh, it's more than just glamorous—it's the epitome of high society. Think dazzling ball gowns, sparkling chandeliers, and a guest list that reads like a who's who of the city's elite."

“Ms. Clarissa I have heard a lot about how hard-working and diligent you are. How about I take you out for dinner? The pay is on me to choose a restaurant. Clarissa felt nothing wrong with going out with him, so she accepted his offer and chose the glamour club. Driving their car out of the company’s parking lot, they headed to the glamour club. Glamour Club is a beautiful building; the whole building has lights of different colors, flashing and changing colors. Now that the night is falling, the lights are very beautiful. The place has been buzzing since last night, and everybody is returning from work.

“You’ll find out soon enough, baby.” The glass doors slid open with a soft chime, and immediately, a wave of perfume and luxury wrapped around me. The marble floor sparkled and three attendants dressed in black immediately approached us with warm smiles. “Welcome to Gorgeous & Glam, Mr. Darius,” one of them said. “Your private appointment is ready.” Private appointment? My eyes widened. I turned to him. “You booked the entire boutique?”

He was still as handsome and breathtaking as usual, and with his short, raven black hair, I remembered running my hands through them at intervals when he was asleep. His intense black orbs, which always seemed to look mysterious, ran across my body, and I felt hot immediately. He stood up from his chair, and I caught sight of his shirt, unbuttoned at the top and giving me a glimpse of his hot, muscular chest, which I ran my hands through whenever he made love to me. I let out a groan and immediately looked away, but I thought I caught a victory smile at the side of his lips. "Welcome to my humble corporation." He greeted me and offered his hand to both Adrian and me. He and Adrian shook hand

“Which is probably the best place for her, sis.” He scowled. “She’ll be able to get help there.” “Oh, God! Tell me you don’t mean that!” Didn’t he? Griffin didn’t know. But what he did know was that his morning had been a lot better before Emeline had rushed into his office, bringing to mind a girl he’d rather strip from it altogether. 'Gloriana "Glow" Templeton'. Currently considered one of the sexiest women on the planet and a very talented actress. He didn’t follow films but he’d seen her first one, some art-house rubbish made by a precocious upstart of a director about the end of the world.

Looking at Xander's handsome yet indifferent face on my cell phone screen, I felt only a deep chill in my heart. "Are you ready? We're the center of attention tonight. Come on, try on the dress I prepared for you." Gloria took out a red gown and paired it with a white tulle overlay, embellished with sparkling diamonds. As she gently swung it, it created a graceful arc. "That's nice. You'll look great in this," Liam commented, nodding in satisfaction as he stood next to her. "Trust my aesthetics. You'll surely catch their eyes tonight," Gloria said, folding her arms across her chest with a smug look on her face.

The tea set was edged in gold. Her grandmother, Aurelia Devereux, wore a peignoir and red lipstick at noon and referred to herself only as “Madam.” Madam had once run the most exclusive pleasure salon in Europe—discreet, decadent, and whispered about in embassies and royal families alike. “Tell me, my little diamond,” she purred, brushing Dominique’s hair with an ivory comb. “Do you know the difference between obedience and surrender?” “One is forced,” Dominique said. “The other is given.”

The gala pulsed with affluence. Chandeliers shimmered overhead, bathing the vast hall in a golden, deceitful glow. Strings hummed from a live quartet in the corner. The clink of glasses, the lull of laughter, the perfume of money and secrets hung thick in the air. Everything about the night screamed opulence—a perfect smokescreen.

Public Claiming The Grand Ballroom glittered like a cage made of gold and crystal. Chandeliers dripped light over hundreds of the city’s elite, politicians, old-money heirs, and shadowed figures who moved money and power in equal measure. Elena stood at Sandro’s side in a backless emerald gown that clung to every curve, the fabric whispering against her still-tender skin with every step. The faint ache from his punishment the day before served as a constant, humiliating reminder. She wore it like a secret brand.

Not in public. "Hi." A spunky voice called out and I frowned but waited just to be sure it was referring to me. When no voice engaged in a conversation with it, I turned and found Gloria, the major's mistress smiling at me. She wore a mask and had her silk gown cku g to her skin without a bra. She was pulling attention and that was the last thing I needed at that moment. Why did people keep coming when you did not need them? "Hi. Gloria right?" I said, plastering a stiff smile on my face. She smiled too, clutching her flute in one hand and her purse in the other. It was an Opera singing, people! Not a museum.