Pampered Princess 소설 & 이야기

Just when it seems like we are about to come to blows, Sasha's scent begins to swirl within the room. Luis steps away, and I straighten my suit jacket. I look towards the doorway just in time to see my gorgeous princess enter. My eyes travel over her form hungrily. She looks like a walking moonbeam. The dress she is wearing is opal white and trails down to the floor. The V-neck is deep but covered in mesh. So while it gives me a great view of her chest, it is still modest. Her beautiful hair is in a low messy but controlled bun and her makeup isn't too thick. I am so glad I told her to dress fancy. She looks as if she is going to a human prom.

She has her father's pale gold hair - which is identical to mine - and the angry eyes that flashed at Lisa are definitely hers. " How's the restaurant going, Lisa? Flourishing, I presume." Dad spears a pea with a fork. Lisa offers a smile with the power to stop hearts. Dubbed 'Princess of Oakenville' by the locals, her famed, angelic beauty is the reason most of the patrons at her thriving restaurant, Duke's Table, consist of adoring fanboys, and why most women love to have her as a prime subject of their gossip. "Your presumption is indeed right. Did I mention there's a prospect of an interview with Women's Weekly? They want me to feature in a cover story."

“Exiles own the water, ma’am. Whatever your brother or the Captain told you was a lie. They have no idea what they’ll be facing. Exiles have granted us passage from time to time, but this ship is carrying two Royals. I doubt they’ll look the other way now.” “My brother has sailed these seas for years.” “He’s a Prince. You’re a Princess. Do you know what a pirate would do to get his hands on you? They’d defy every law in the book to capture a gem like that.” I felt queasy. “My sister has sailed this very journey. I think we are fine; all due respect.” He smiled and I realized why they called him Fang. His canines looked like they’d been filed into actually fangs. “Your sister is not you, Prin

she mumbled. "I actually do. My job is to get you prepared for the real world and toughen up your skin since it seems like you're far from there, Princess." Aurora was facing away from him and she could not help the smirk that made its way onto her face. Her number one rule of life was to always be underestimated. If her targets underestimate her then they would lower their guard and therefore make the job easier for her. She had been treated as Princess her entire life and grew up pampered and praised. But there was some point when she decided to change it up a bit. She still enjoyed being treated like one and acting like a baby sometimes but outside of the house, she was a completely diffe

To the world, I'm Sophia Romano—the family's wild, radiant princess. Vincent is the mafia heir—stoic, controlled, the very picture of restraint. But every night, he grips my waist, fucking me until my legs go weak while whispering my name over and over: "Principessa." He just doesn't know that in two weeks, I'm marrying someone else. The sheets are still damp with our shared heat. I lie in bed, catching my breath as Vincent rises to dress.

With a deep breath, she picked up her drink and toasted to a night of fun, leaving behind the image of Biden and all the drama that came with him. Underneath the dimmed lights of the luxurious hotel, Priscilla and Evanna, like a pair of playful kittens, huddled together, whispering and giggling at their shared fantasies about Biden Hali. Priscilla's eyes twinkled like the evening stars as she gushed about his commanding height and charming demeanor.

And then she arrived. Pamela moved through the room like it owed her something. Her dress was a slinky silver, hugging every inch of her surgically perfect body. Diamonds dusted her collarbone. “Sweetheart,” she said, appearing beside me like a curse, “how are you finding the room? Your first time dancing with sharks?” I tilted my head slightly. “I’ve been to galas before.” “Of course you have,” she said, her smile stretched tight. “Though this one’s a little different, isn’t it? These people don’t hang art on their walls for pleasure. They hang it to cover blood.”

I needed just this. "You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?" Princess Naomi's voice preceded her as my eyes caught her standing, hands on her hips, with her eyes locked to me. "Why are you here?" I asked from the pool. "What does he see in you that he cannot see in me? There's nothing unique or amazing about you. You're just a leech who wobbled here to suck his life away, but I'm not about to just sit around and let that happen!"

Liam then suggested as we entered the makeshift dance floor near the fire pit. I muttered mysteriously to him, “Well, there's not much to tell," and I let that idea vague, but actually there wasn't much to be told at all, as Olivia Mason didn't have much of a story, not even made-up stories. The person who had several stories to talk about in her life was Caroline Andermier, Princess of Tresoria.

The kind that seeps into your marrow. I almost giggled. What a stereotype. The mistress gets food tossed in her face in a fancy restaurant. I mean, Jesus — was this a bad soap opera? I looked in the mirror. My eyes were puffy. My complexion was blotchy. And all I could do was wonder how stupid I'd been to believe I ever belonged in that kind of life, sitting opposite Creed with gold-plated menus and lilac drinks. As if I were some kind of princess instead of an imposter in a red dress and too-good-to-be-true makeup.