Sharp Nails Palace Novels & Stories

"You handle it however you see fit, Evelyn. Don't let random nobodies ruin your mood. Our salon is a luxury club, not a garbage dump." On the other end of the video call came Stellan's familiar voice, but his words sent a chill through my entire body. "You hear that, pauper? Stellan said I can handle it however I want." Evelyn Scott looked at me smugly, then snatched the phone from my hand before I could react and tossed it straight into a nearby bucket of water.

Her carefully crafted image of innocence crumbled against the weight of cultured wit and poise. Even Ethan was stunned. His eyes locked on me with shock, as though seeing me truly for the first time. The silence was broken by a laugh. An elderly man with silver hair, dignified and imposing, leaned on his cane and replied in French, his tone warm and approving: “Well said! A fine quote indeed—‘beautiful outside, rotten within.’ This lady’s insight is truly remarkable.” I recognized him. Mr. Renault, a major shareholder of a European luxury brand—and one of the most sought-after business partners of the Caldwell Group.

Salara’s POV The palace is eerily quiet. I slip off my sandaled shoes and begin to make my way through the quiet halls with my bare feet. The palace is breathtaking to see, but I don’t take the time to admire the beauty around me as I follow some unknown path through the maze of hallways.

It was going to slow her down. She also bought a cute bag to go with her outfit. "Is that all you would be needing?" The shop owner asked. She had a smile on her face as she felt Hazel to be very direct with what she wanted plus she had the money too. "Yes, I would like a pair of shoes," Hazel said. The ones she had stolen from this shop were not heels and were not suitable enough for a party at the palace. She got a new pair that looked like they belonged on a princess' feet.

I heard the click of heels on the staircase before I saw her. Selene descended like she was walking a runway, one manicured hand trailing along the banister. She wore a cream cashmere sweater that probably cost a month’s rent, paired with white designer jeans that hugged her slim figure. Her honey-blonde hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders—the kind that required a two-hour salon appointment. Her almond-shaped nails were painted a soft rose color, and diamond studs sparkled in her ears. She looked every inch the beloved daughter, the princess of this cold palace.

I swallowed hard, picking up the ballet pink polish. I painted her nails carefully, making sure each one was perfect. Thea held her hands still, watching with rapt attention as the nearly-nude polish transformed her fingertips. Just for fun, I added a touch of glitter to the top of hers, and added some to mine as well. When I was finished, she admired them in the lamplight, turning her hands this way and that.

“It’s, like, a scientifically proven mood booster. Probably.” I looked from the nail polish to her expectant, friendly face. It was such a small, frivolous thing. So normal. And for some reason, the sheer absurdity of it, sitting in this gilded cage learning to be a weapon while considering glittery nail polish, almost made me want to smile. Almost. “I— I guess?” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “Excellent!” Rachel exclaimed, already unscrewing the bottle. “Okay, pick a hand, any hand! This purple is called ‘Galaxy Dreams.’ Prepare to have your mood boosted Selena!”

- I like the shape of your lips! The stylist couldn't help but pay her a compliment by putting the lipsticks on her lips. The final step was putting on the dress and shoes. A pair of silver high heels was prepared for Mia. They were encrusted with countless broken diamonds, and the entire pair of shoes was shining. Caroline couldn't help but exclaim: - They look like crystal shoes. The young master is this prince. The stylist wanted to ask her if she had ever seen a prince in a wheelchair. However, she swallowed the words with the tip of her tongue. If she said something bad about Raphael, she thought Caroline would go crazy.

“Yeah… thanks for the ride.” He nodded, still unsure, but didn’t push. Sienna waved at me from the window, and then they were gone. I turned to face the massive doors ahead of me. This was it. --- Inside, the palace was even more intimidating. Polished marble floors, tall crystal chandeliers, and walls decorated with old royal paintings. It smelled of fresh flowers and something expensive. I barely had time to look around when a sharp voice cut through the air. “You must be Liora, we've met before.”

I just stared at the ceiling like, “Lord, is this what being loved by a billionaire feels like?” They seated us with champagne, for Anastasia, and gave me sparkling water, then tiny bite-sized pastries, and goodie bags while stylists fussed over our hair. My curls were shampooed, treated, diffused, and styled like I was about to walk a runway I didn’t know I’d signed up for. Then it was on to Tenorkoven for our nails — sleek, pristine, and just as over-the-top organized. And of course… “Reservation under Marion Whitfield,” the tech confirmed.