Romancing Mister Bridgerton Book Cover 소설 & 이야기

Then Jayden leaned in, whispering something that made her laugh, and that dark feeling returned, sharper this time. I tried to convince myself it was nothing, that I was just being protective and had it all under control. Then Mira pinned the final sketches onto the board and stepped back. One drawing captured my attention: a navy evening dress with elegant lines and a confident cut. It was stunning. Before I knew it, I had pulled my phone out, snapped a photo just one, without any sound or flash. I slipped the phone back into my pocket, my heart racing.

The shade sticker read Crimson Vow, and someone had tied a narrow rose-gold ribbon around it with suspicious care. I stared at it. Then translucent comments slid across my vision, like live reactions on a serialized romance app. [@BookTokAfterDark: Oh, she has no idea what that lipstick does.] [@SteamQueen: I can smell the spice from here. I am seated.] [@KindleKiller: He really put his weak spot in a velvet box. Sir.] [@RomanceGremlin: Buckle up. This is about to get messy in the best way.] I almost dropped the box.

They applied makeup, turning my face into the image of a perfect bride—a flawless illusion hiding the storm raging inside me. As they helped me into the Valentino gown, the fabric glided over my skin, hugging my figure in all the right places. The dress was stunning, crafted with intricate lace and delicate pearls, its soft ivory hue glowing against my skin. The veil was placed atop my head, and I stared at myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the girl staring back. Her face was calm, her eyes vacant, as though all the life had been drained from them. “There,” Miss Beatrice said, stepping back with a satisfied smile. “You look perfect.”

I walked over and looked at the titles. My eyes went wide. "Alpha Dominic? What are these?" He opened his eyes and looked over. Instantly, he jumped off the chair and lunged forward, reaching for the books in an obvious attempt to hide them from me. But I was faster. I picked one up. It had a picture of a man and a woman hugging under the moon. My eyes widened as I realized what it was. "Is this a romance book?" I asked, unable to hide my surprise. I felt a giggle bubbling up in my throat. "The Alpha’s True Love?" I read out the title in amusement.

If I failed at this then I would have to face him in a negotiation where he had all the power and all the experience and I would probably lose everything Tobin had left me. On the morning of the third day a package arrived at the penthouse addressed to me and when I opened it I found a dress and jewelry inside along with a handwritten note. My hands were shaking as I unfolded the note and read the message written in elegant script that must have been done by Marco himself.

“She’ll probably spend the whole holiday in here if you let her.” I walked the aisles slowly, trailing my fingers over the books. Classics. Thrillers. A whole section of contemporary romance—Mirabel’s doing, mostly. She’d started collecting them in high school, said they were “escapist but smart.” I’d never read them. Too many happy endings. Too much hope wrapped in pretty words. I pulled one down at random. Dark cover, brooding man in a suit, and title written in gold foil: Claimed by the Billionaire. I snorted softly, then slid it back.

The kind of café that attracted regulars rather than foot traffic, which meant the staff knew their customers and strangers were noticeable enough that anyone following Elena in would be visible. She had chosen well. I arrived eight minutes early. Ordered a coffee. Chose a table near the window but not directly against the glass. Watched the door. She came in at exactly eleven. She looked different from the wedding photographs. I had been prepared for the gala version of Elena Cross. The silver dress and the precise handshake and the smile that matched mine in its calibration. The woman who moved through rooms with the practiced ease of someone who had been raised to move through them. The w

She was pretty, but she kept bowing her head, as if she's trying so hard to disappear into the shadows. Meanwhile, the man wore a general's uniform with dozens of medals pinned on it. Judging by his arrogant stance and condescending tone, he did not earn those medals. I smiled tightly. "Ah, pardon my manners. I'm Duke Anton Fontaine of Michestershire. I thought you would have known me, but clearly you didn't take the time to memorize the faces of your soon-to-be family?" He tsked, but held his hand out to me and looked like I should be grateful to be in his presence.

Do I care if she knows my name? “Whatcha doin?” She bats her eyelashes at me and stops in front of the shelf that contains a bunch of romance novels. She pulls one off of the shelf and flashes the cover at me. It looks like the kind of book Reece would love, one of those bodice rippers, with a pirate on the cover and a woman with her boobs hanging out the top of her gown. Now, even the imaginary woman on the cover is making me hard…. Thank goodness I wasn’t sitting in here reading a romance novel, or I’d be in all kinds of trouble now.