Socialite Synonym Novels & Stories

She traded amused, cruel glances with her two affluent friends, Harper and Sloane, who stood flanking her like high-priced guards, their expressions hardening into pure, elitist malice. "Oh, please. Look at her," Genevieve scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, intentionally stepping closer to match Sophie's aggression, her heavy diamond ring flashing aggressively. "A junior partner at a hedge fund? Sweetie, my husband is a managing director. We practically own the building your little apartment is in. Who is your quiet friend anyway? Some low-tier mistress trying to hide a bastard bump in a dead man's t-shirt?"

"Not at all. Annette and I were just having a casual dinner." "Are you working with a charity organization now?" Sophia asked, a sly smirk tugged at her lips. "What do you mean?" Hudson arched a brow at her. "Is she not some less privileged woman? That's why you're having dinner with her, because she is not your usual type," Sophia said, seizing her up with her venomous eyes. Annette felt her blood boil at the woman's insinuation, there was nothing wrong with being less privileged but the way she said it made it sound like an insult.

She'd bombarded me with details about the Thorne family, Andreas's work, and even their bizarre obsession with poetry (a fact I found interesting). "Just think of it as a crash course in being a socialite," Ashton had quipped, a hint of desperation lacing her usually carefree tone. A wry smile touched my lips. Socialite. A word that felt as foreign to me as the designer sunglasses currently perched on my nose. Ashton had raided her closet, transforming me from a bookworm in a comfy sweater into a vision of designer labels that felt stiff and unfamiliar against my skin. "They expect a certain look, Ash," she'd explained, her fingers flitting across the expensive fabric of a dress I wouldn't

A few socialite women whispered: "She looks like some old man’s toy, she came alone!" Her curly-haired friend, who was dressed like a North Coast dangdut singer, sneered: "Yeah, sugar babies are trending these days, Sis. Watch out for that guy, don’t let him turn out to be a sugar daddy on the side!" "Eww ... that’s such bad luck!" gasped a group of women with long, bleached hair that was straightened so flat it looked like ironing boards, and fake, fluttery lash extensions. "That’s why I get treatments regularly so I don’t get wrinkly!"

"A pleasure to meet you. Thank you for looking after Caitlin all these years." Shane smiled and extended his hand toward me, his handsome face showing not the slightest trace of ill will. "People always say the two of them look alike, but now that they're actually standing side by side, the difference is just staggering." "Right? How does the same suit look so tacky on Terry? He can't hide that shabby, low-class air of his no matter what." The guests covered their mouths, sizing me up and snickering. I stood awkwardly in the center, like an ugly duckling exposed under a spotlight.

I bought all of these with my own money. The contempt on Marlene's face deepened. "You bought them with your own money? And how exactly did you earn that money? By pretending to be a socialite and scamming men out of theirs?" I let out a laugh. My family's motto had always been never to use the family name to throw our weight around, but this was the first time I had ever been called a fake socialite to my face. I had completely run out of patience and turned my gaze straight to Hugo.

"Go fetch me a pack of cigarettes from the bar, I forgot them." "Sure, I'll go now." Once the door closed, Alyssa turned to Sophia immediately. "So, what do you think of this little brother?" Sophia shook her head lightly. "He's quite the actor." Alyssa: "An actor? I don't see it." Sophia chuckled. "I know a green tea when I see one because I am one." "I've used those tricks more times than I can count." Hearing this, Alyssa rolled her eyes. "You've been in the high society too long, you see everyone as scheming."

Sophie raised her eyebrows and gestured to Scarlett to follow her as she began walking upstairs. Sophie was just that type of girl– she didn’t care that her boyfriend, Jeff Richards, was some big businessman in the area and that Sophie herself was basically a nobody. Sophie didn’t let that sort of thing get to her– no matter what anyone around her said. At last, Scarlett and Sophie got to the banquet hall. Sophie was a social butterfly; she could talk and become friends with practically anybody. Scarlett watched her popping up here and there. She was entertaining the guests as though she were the hostess of the party herself!

Anyway, I told Sophie I was going to come to the small gathering of socialites so I could give the women in her circle the opportunity to play bully. Immediately I entered the room, the conversation halted and instead, murmurs rose as they eyed me while they judged. Like I said earlier, children. I smiled, unbothered by their veiled disdain and envy and walked to the middle of the room where I had Sophie book me a table at the function. The person I had bet my money would be the first to speak approached me and took a seat beside me. Marjorie Sinclair, wife of Nathan Sinclair, a powerful man with an even bigger shipping company but not bigger than the Blackwells.

Sophia, her smile laced with venom, approached me with a group of socialites, her words dripping with false sweetness. "Isn't it remarkable how someone like Bella can rise above her station?" she said, her voice carrying just enough volume for the nearby guests to hear. "A poor girl from the streets, now rubbing shoulders with the elite. I wonder how she managed to secure her place in Xander's life."