Rachel Suits Hot Novels & Stories

It had been a difficult time for all of them and Rachel still worried about their vulnerability. Rachel smoothed a hand down the silken fabric of her signature black cocktail dress. She always wore black, convinced it minimized the flaws in her figure. She saw her hips as too wide, her thighs as too chunky, her tummy as too rounded, especially for someone as short as she was. Now she wished she could kick off the four-inch heels she used to boost her five-foot-two-inch height. Her thick honey-colored hair was pulled up in a sophisticated arrangement that added yet another inch or two. Anything to make her feel less like a chunky miniature lost at an adult function.

Noah's POV "Rachel Houston," Juliet’s voice echoed through the room, calm but ringing with finality. The moment she said it, I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. Rachel Houston, the woman behind RA Lavantado, the brand everyone had been talking about for years. How could this be possible? Rachel, of all people? The same Rachel who had been a ghost since that one night, the same Rachel I had thought was out of my life forever, was now standing before everyone as a global fashion icon.

I had never seen anything like it. I had lived my life surrounded by fakes, men in suits who bowed to me with teeth that dripped with lies, women who offered smiles only because of my last name and my bank account. At home, at the office, everywhere I turned, it was all the same fake royalty, polished masks. But Rachel was different. Even with her overly casual look, she carried a quiet charisma. An innocence that didn’t need decoration. She didn’t know how to play a role, and maybe that was why she felt so real to me.

“Er, no. Why would I be jealous of them? They’re idiots fawning over a man like that. No thanks. Besides, we are stepsiblings. It can’t go anywhere even if we did like each other. Which we don’t.” “Yeah, yeah. It sounds to me like you’re a teensy bit jealous. Now, tell me how good looking he is these days. Is he all muscly with big pecs and biceps? Does he have those abs we dream about from our smut books?” God, my bestie is the worst. I let out a little sigh. “I’m obviously not blind and I am a red-blooded woman who likes the sight of a fit man.” “Oh, my God. He is ripped and jacked, isn’t he?” Rachel is practically jumping up and down on the purple, velvet sofa she is partial to. Me person

“I’m really bad at picking clothes for myself. I’ll have to trouble you to help me, Mrs. Hunt.” Rachel smiled, a look of pure bliss on her face. “I have no choice but to pick some outfits for you. You’ll still have to see if you like it. We’ll get it only if you think it’s good.” “No problem. I’ll be your mannequin for today. We’ll take whichever suit that catches your eye.” She led Tyler to the men’s section, where she found a shirt with gold patterns down the collar and cuffs. It looked sharp and elegant. She made Tyler stretch his arms out so that she could gauge the fit. Her eyes lit up.

She grins playfully, the light reflects on her beautiful face. For a second, Rachel's jaw drops, and so do other people whose attention is fixated on her from the very beginning. She's adorned in a striking purple suit with matching pants, the fabric gracefully enveloping her figure. The richness of the colour complements the assertiveness of her style. Dark, meticulously applied makeup accentuates her features, adding a touch of mystery and sophistication to her overall appearance. This particular fashion, bold and eye-catching, resonates with Rachel's long-standing desire for a style that commands attention from her unknowingly.

"It wasn't pretty. Nightmarish things happen when I try to sew." "Hmm, I guess that's job security for me," Rachel said with a chuckle. I ducked into the changing room and threw on the purple shirt. It was just a silk button-up blouse, but I could imagine it doing well in the desert heat. I stepped out and did a little catwalk. "I like it, but not with those pants," Rachel said with a laugh as I struck a model pose. Emma nodded. "Maybe with a khaki skirt?" Emma's face became thoughtful.

As she walks, I watch her, noting how different we are even down to the way we dress. Rachel has no qualms about showing off her body, which is understandable because her years of doing track and field in high school and a sprinkle of God’s favor have gifted her with a figure most girls would kill for. She’s wearing a short black dress with nothing but slips of material and prayers covering the entirety of her back. It’s a far cry from the jeans and cropped top combo I’m sporting. But even though we didn’t plan to coordinate and our clothes are very different, we do somehow complement each other… not unlike our personalities. Two very different peas that were lucky enough to find themselves

She felt sad and helpless. "Harry, I'm fine. Don't be so nervous. It's just a little burn." Rachel smiled slightly. She was wearing a tight black dress, which made her figure look very curvy. She wore a suit jacket on her shoulder. Harry was wearing a white shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing his strong arms. He said with a worried look, "If it's not handled properly, it will leave a scar." Rachel leaned into Harry's arms. "If I have a scar, will you still like me?"

Trish’s POV: Despite the fact that I got to the restaurant in twenty-five minutes, I found Rachel seated at a table at the far corner of the room. She looked every bit as imposing as she always did. She was dressed in a power suit, with a penciled trouser that stopped at her ankle. She sat with one leg crossed over the other, phone in hand and sunglasses sitting on top of her nose. Her brown skin was spotless and if you did not know her, you might mistake her for a thirty years old lady, despite the fact that she was almost fifty-five.