Tangled In Tinsel Novels & Stories

She gave it a small jingle, giggling like a child when the sound rang throughout the room, Holly chuckled despite shruggling with a long piece of tinsel. Sapphire watched in amusement as Holly tried to untangle herself from what was actually three lengths of tinsel. Holly yelped when she tripped and ended up in a heap on the floor, grumbling as she untangled herself. Sapphire burst out laughing right as the cousins came in, both with their coats scrunched up in their arms. "A little help?" Lydia asked, confused while watching Sapphire help Holly out of a mess of pink tinsel on the floor. Holly kicked the tinsel away and glared half-heartedly at her still laughing sister.

“Elena…” “Enjoy the ride, Graham,” I cut him off, sliding into my own car. “I’ll see you there.” He said something else, but the slam of my door drowned it out. ********** The Event was already a spectacle when I arrived. Golden chandeliers scattered light like diamonds, violins danced softly in the air, and laughter echoed like a rehearsed melody. The scent of champagne, roses, and ambition blended into something intoxicating… something rotten underneath all that luxury.

Opening the wrap, I caught the name Tiffany. ‘You know I don’t want anything from you. I... I can’t accept this. It’s too much’, I stuttered. ‘I want you to wear it when I introduce you as my girlfriend to the world. Accept it, Erica, please?’ That ‘please’ did it. What’s with him and pleading. I give in every time he pleads. I wish I had more endurance but then I couldn’t object to him when he asks like that. I opened the case and looked at a glittering necklace. This present is too practical to have romantic connotations associated with it. I hide my disappointment that he thought of giving me this as the first gift to me.

a man in a blindingly green elf getup informed me, jiggling the silver-wrapped horror in my face. I blinked at him. "She sings?" He nodded, much too enthusiastically. "Tchaikovsky's 'Waltz of the Flowers' in four variations." I blinked again. "You're frightening, you know that?" He just grinned like it was a compliment. I gave in and bought the accursed thing. For whom? No idea. Maybe it could be a decent present for . She seemed the type who would find an outrageously melodramatic decoration to her liking. The mall was replaying Mariah Carey for the tenth time in an hour, and each turn I took resulted in more glitter, fake snow, and wailing children. I was trudging along with four bags, rem

Bastard. His hand gropes my cardigan, about to pull it up when I grab his wrist. "Wait," I shoot out immediately. My mind flashes back to that night, the hazy, intoxicating touch of someone else. Fuck, this will ruin it. That memory. I turn my head away, my voice tight. "Give me one of your ties." He pauses, brow raised. "Yo, give me a fucking tie, okay? If we're gonna do this, I want to be blindfolded."

Sounds of soft music was been heard outside the building of the event. "You stay close to me always," I ordered Max and he nodded. He wore a bulletproof vest under his suit. We walked into the building and blended into the crowd, our eyes scanning the room. I walked towards a table with Max following me behind closely. Few people used masks on their face while some used sunglasses like Max. "Attention everyone!" An elderly man announced, his voice echoing through the room. Everyone turned their attention to him. "The main purpose of this party is to sell the most expensive gold which will worth hundred billion dollars by the end of the year," he continued.

Andre Winters was dressed in an Italian suit cut to perfection, the fabric a deep shade of green so dark it was almost indistinguishable from black under the chandelier’s warm light. He projected that kind of confidence that came from years of command. When he reached the microphone, he offered the audience a restrained smile, one that did not quite reach his eyes. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he began, his voice carrying easily across the hall. “Welcome to the Winters Corporation gala.”

The night of the Oakhaven Business Gala arrived with a biting chill that seemed to seep through the very foundations of the city. To the elite sipping champagne, it was just an unseasonable cold snap; to me, it was the first whisper of the eternal winter I had already died in once before. I stood before the full-length mirror in my penthouse, draped in a gown of liquid silver that clung to my skin like moonlight, moving with a heavy, expensive shimmer that screamed of power and untouchability.

I pretended I was completely blind to her trap. My foot hit her shoe. I let myself fall forward. But I didn't just fall. I pushed my arms out hard. I aimed the tray right at her chest. Crash. The plastic tray hit the edge of the table with a loud bang. The bowl of cold, sticky soup flew up in the air. The red juice splashed out of the cup. All of it landed right on Tiffany. It covered her blonde hair. It soaked her expensive white shirt. It dripped down her face and onto her lap. The thick soup clung to her skin.

The ballroom glowed with chandeliers and golden drapes, alive with soft music, clinking glasses, and the hum of wealthy donors who would buy overpriced items just to look like saints. Ava arrived on Xander’s arm, sleek in a backless silver dress that glittered in the flashes of the camera lights. Her smile was polite— too polite. She still felt Tristan somewhere behind her like a shadow she pretended not to search for. As the cameras flashed and couples were seen taking photos and chatting at the entrance of the building, Xander squeezed her waist. “Smile, baby. People are watching.”