The Makeup Queen Novels & Stories

When I’m not. These women probably ran the whole supernatural world. While the men were always roaring and yelling in each other’s face about who is who. I know women are the key players in that game of chess. If the queen is protected. Everything is going well and you can make great moves. And when shit goes south, the queen protects the king. I’m guessing this is where you get your warriors and foot soldiers for protection. “The one and only,” Daciana smirks proudly. “Wait, I have heard that he was with someone. The daughter of that small pack’s alpha.” She stares at me with widened eyes. “It makes sense now. I have never seen someone as pretty as her.”

“You should have done your research beforehand. Perhaps you won’t fail stealing from another mafia.” He grunted. “Who are you?” She finally withdrew her gun and squatted down to his level. The confidence of this woman was beyond me. “Allow me to introduce myself. La regina. The queen of the mafia.” His chuckle was taunting yet with desperation. “There is no queen in the mafia.”

I would let the people know that the Queen was here. I put on a brown sleeveless dress that hugged my body in all the right places. It had a belt attached to it and I clasped it around my waist. I packed my hair in a low bun, leaving a few tendrils to fall at the sides. I had large eyes courtesy of my mother and I lined them with mascara before applying the rest of my makeup. For jewelries, I donned a silver necklace and earrings, hoping that would be enough. Finally, I was ready.

"She hates everyone, so don't take it personally." I didn't even get a chance to process that before I saw her. Adrian was standing near a massive fireplace, looking so tall and effortlessly handsome that it made my knees tremble. He was holding a glass of champagne, and listening to a woman whose presence seemed to sucked all the air out of the room. She looked like the queen of England, with jet black hair that was swept into an elegant chignon, and a dress that probably cost more than my entire college tuition. She looked absolutely terrifying as her eyes scanned the room, probably looking for some sort of imperfections.

THALIA ISABELLE I am in front of my board of members right now inside the company. The room went silent when I announced my decision and they are all staring at me, giving me their looks and I can sense that they are strong against my decision. “You are going to leave your company behind?” one of the female members asked me. I crossed my arms above my chest. “I just announced it,” I answered her. She blew out and fake her smile at me. “This decision is to be held urgently, our decision doesn’t matter to you, Ms Thalia?” she asked sarcastically.

Didn’t care though… “Definitely not!” The magazine Delilah read, came down and she stared at me awkwardly. “What, why?” I asked. “You have to look your best as would-be Queen, Maya.” she spelled out. “I’m my best.” I groaned. “Okay, let me put on some makeup.” I walked to the dresser, putting some eye liner, powder and tangerine lipstick. I smudged it, applying some lip gloss. In a way, my face was out. I looked pale, however.

“I will take this one, now move along. I will call on you when I need you.” The maids walked out of the room hastily as the Queen put her gown on. Once she was done, she called her maids back. They did the makeup, hairstyling, fingernails, jewelry choosing, and everything else. An hour later Octavia wasn't the fake woman she once was. Her looks were faker and everything about her screamed this is not the real me! The maids noticed it but saying a word was a death sentence. There was a light knock on the door.

Breakfast of champions, honestly. Meanwhile, chaos in the glam department. My makeup artist was fluttering around, all focused, brushing powder on me like she’s painting a masterpiece, which she is. The hairstylist is over there, babying each curl like it’s royalty, and the designer keeps popping in, fussing and rearranging the dress like the world’s ending if a strap is off by half an inch. I couldn’t help thinking, “So this is how you make a queen.” All eyes on me, like I’m some kinda deity. They’re practically drinking me in; totally obsessed, like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.

Rara asked, confusion clear as she was seated at her makeup table. Mayonne’s lips curled into a mischievous smile as she retrieved the ornate box from the car and placed it on the table. Rara’s face paled at the sight of the familiar box, and she shivered with apprehension. Mayonne’s eyes sparkled with determination. Five minutes later. “Mayonne, it’s just dinner. Why do I need to wear makeup?” Rara complained as Mayonne hurried her down the stairs. “You are a Chosen Lady, and the queen said that your appearance reflects on her,” Mayonne explained, her tone both firm and sympathetic.

She lifted her head, her eyes looking around the room, that had been well remade to not have any traces of Daniel. If Raees thought she could use her, fine. If the shadowy caller thought she’d burn, fine. She’d burn, yes, but she’d at least burn bright enough to blind them all. Cecelia Monroe stared at her reflection in the glass window. For the first time all night, she saw not the secretary, not Daniel’s accomplice, not Raees’s pawn. She saw something else, fragile, dangerous, inevitable. A queen in the making. And whoever it is this Queen will submit to, she’ll make sure she does so fiercely, enough to make herself stand by herself, not leaning on any single pillar.