Perfect Lady Novels & Stories

“A business merger with vows attached.” The chandelier glittered above us, cold and merciless, as my world quietly shattered into a cage I hadn’t chosen. I was trading one cage for another. I was Elena Moretti, the socialite all Manhattan either wanted or wanted to be. Where Damien Davenport was called the Golden Prince, I was called the Frozen Princess. I was a doll who smiled in front of the cameras, never stepped out of the house without make-up, my clothes were tailored to my body... Whether I was picking up weight or losing it, my clothes were always fitting to my body.

“I would never understand how a beautiful woman like you can stay single for this long amount if time. How do you do it?” She grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip, shrugging. “It's easy. I want an Hallmark movie type of love, you know? Nothing short of the perfect Cinderella moment. A man that'll come along and sweep me off my feet. Literally. So, until then, it's just me, myself and I.”

A large air conditioning unit blew out cool air. Gen and I took a seat and waited. And waited. And waited. "How much longer? I'm becoming hungry," Gen asked. I was becoming irritated. I tapped my nails on the surface of the table and looked at my wristwatch. The door finally pushed open and an elderly man appeared. I stood and Gen did the same. "Good afternoon. I'm King Charles the Third. Welcome to Conovia." "It's a pleasure Your Highness. I'm Emily Hollen, and this is Generosa Sky."

I tell her as she nodded, Tomi entered my office as Blessing turned to leave. “Why are you not at your place?” Tomi snaps at Blessing. “Tomi, you are not the madam here oh.” I tell her as she rolls her eyes at my words and allowed Blessing to pass by her, Blessing didn’t even bother to spare a greeting for Tomi. “Yes, the madam is Stella and I have noticed that neither of you called to wish me congratulations.” Tomi pouted in an affronted look on her face. “Tomi, I am not in the mood for your trouble this afternoon, normally I see it as cute but not this time. I have a lot of my mind.”

I just let her because I can not even finish it. “Yes, that is the person”. Mariquita confirms her statement. “He looks very attractive”. Andrea says. “With a nice body”. I add. “And luscious lips”. Mariquita completes and we all giggle like a bunch of middle school girls fantasising over a hot male actor.

Jeff reached up and gently touched her hand. “Angelie,” he said. She looked down at him. “Thank you for saying that.” She nodded, brushing a loose curl from his forehead. ******************** Patricia was stepping out of her mansion, dressed in all white. Crisp pants and a clean jacket, every inch of her screaming elegance and purpose. Her dark lipstick was the only color on her, bold and confident, a symbol of the fire she carried within. She moved toward her Lamborghini, her heels clicking against the tiled driveway, when she heard him.

Something about the way she looked, the pure bliss that played on her face; she looked like she was living for that very moment like it was the only thing that mattered in her life. “That’s Camilla. She’s a waitress here. See her band?” My eyes trailed down her perfect skin to her wrist, and sure enough, she too had a ribbon band. A yellow one just like Kara’s. I nodded. “And you see this one?” She pointed to the other end. My jaw hung open as I took in the sight of a… Goodness… the woman was old enough to be a grandma. But a posh, luxurious grandma with a diamond necklace around her neck. Four men stood all around her, two pumping into her rear hole and front hole, while she held two cocks

Third Person's POV The mirror reflected a woman who looked perfect. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect smile. And yet Miley Perez hated the person staring back at her. She sat at the vanity table in her apartment bedroom, gripping a lipstick tube so tightly her fingers hurt. Perfect. The word had followed Astrid Woods her entire life. Perfect daughter. Perfect heiress. Perfect friend. Even perfect fiancée. Miley let out a bitter laugh. “Perfect,” she muttered. The word tasted like poison.

I stare at the message for a few seconds, then throw the covers off and march to the closet like a woman on a mission. I show up at Platinum Connections in a dress that doesn’t just flirt with the line between professional and devastating, it pole vaults over it. Deep red. Clean silhouette. Subtle slit. Hair pinned to look effortless but lethal. I don’t do it for Marcus. I do it to remind myself who the hell I am. Sophia Sterling. Heiress. Charmer. Enigma. A woman no man gets to dismiss like a bad decision. Preston is already waiting when I arrive. He stands near the reception desk, looking every inch the polished billionaire.

She regarded me like someone reading the price-tag on a stolen fur. “Welcome,” she purred. Her voice was smooth and trap. It rolled across me with the casual cruelty that made me want to spit. “So this is the platinum girl.” One of the women with a narrow-faced aristocrat’s smile clapped slowly, like a metronome. “She’s even smaller than the pictures,” the woman said, as if that were a compliment. “Delicate. Look at how she keeps her hands folded. Don’t you think she’s useful, Veronica?”