Novel & Cerita The New Yorker Candace Bushnell

"Apologies for being late, everyone. I'm Cynthia York—Yves' wife, the largest shareholder of Golding Group, and the original creator of this proposal." Yves' expression turned alarmingly gloomy while Melissa's face reddened and then paled. I ignored them and focused only on Queenie's dissatisfied expression. "Hello, Ms. Reed. I'm Cynthia York. I've heard so much about you, and I'm finally honored to meet you in person." I extended my hand, smiling. Her expression softened noticeably at that. Most people would usually address her as the "bureau chief's wife" or "Mrs. Yates". Of course, no woman liked being defined by her husband's surname.

The prison was loud—a constant cacophony of shouting, metal clanging on metal, and the buzzing of the fluorescent lights. He crawled forward to the next section of the floor, near the guard station. A newspaper had been left on the desk. The Daily Star. Lysander tried to ignore it. He tried not to think about the outside world. But the headline caught his eye. It was printed in bold, triumphant letters. BUSINESSWOMAN OF THE YEAR: VESPERA HALE REDEFINES THE MARKET. Lysander froze. He stopped scrubbing. Slowly, terrified of what he would see, he looked up.

A small opening appears high above, between the glass counters. I watch, fascinated as the opening produces a smaller than usual, iPad looking television. Okay, cool! Damon deftly swipes through the remote until he gets to a channel currently streaming entertainment news. The flawless, blonde lady on the screen smiles at the camera as she divulges tidbits of whatever is happening in the lives of celebrities around the world. Where the hell is Mason? "...and in other, very exciting news, New York billionaire and seven time winner of most eligible bachelor, Mason Lachlan, is rumoured to be in some sort of love triangle…"

“Mr. Sebastian Hughes III, I’m Anna Walsh of Women’s World Magazine. We would be delighted if you could grant us an interview. Since you’re voted as the Sexiest Billionaire, we’d be honored to put you in our cover for next month’s issue.” “Call my PA Elle to arrange an interview.” So my ego fluctuated when I heard the news, but unfortunately, it made my life miserable. I mean who would have thought your haircut would be big of a deal? And even the coffee you drink, and verywhere I go, people took pictures of me.

At first, she was enjoying watching cartoons, but as time went by, it’s becoming less interesting, so she started switching network after network, trying to find something that’d pique her curiosity. Just as she’s about to stop the search, thinking of reading some online books, a certain news channel caught her attention. A man, wearing a suit and horn-rimmed glasses, was speaking fluently, his hands clenched together on a counter. There was a headline propped in the upper part of his head that stated, ‘New York is a City of Suicide.’

Poured another whiskey. His phone buzzed. Vanessa. Did you see the Post? That woman from the gala is all over Page Six. "Mystery CEO Steals the Show at Cross Charity Event." They’re saying she’s the most interesting person to hit New York since— He didn’t finish reading. He set the phone face down on the desk.

NARRATOR In a gorgeous private restaurant with an incredible view of the city, two people were having lunch at an elegant table for two as they chatted mainly about business. Opposite Rock was a glamorous looking woman, who seemed to be in her early forties. She was no other person but Nora Jones. She was a famous renowned actress and the CEO of Nora cosmetics. She was also the author of Hidden Secrets; The Heart of Man. This is a book that was as widely known as its author.

"She's an attorney at a prestigious law firm that probably has more dead partners than living ones and offices in Papua New Guinea and a few dozen other places you've never heard of. I'll be right back." "You are a nut," Nicole bumped me as we weaved our way to her buddies. "Ladies, this is Cáel Nyilas. I think I mentioned him once." By the looks on their faces, once had been enough. "This is Zelda, Marsha, Phyllis, and Rivka -- Rivka Feinstein, ADA for New York County," (that's Manhattan for us hicks). "Ah crap," I exclaimed. That wasn't what they expected. "I confess," I looked at Nicole, "I saw the name in an article on the back of the Village Voice. Sadly, they had R. Feinstein and I stu

Cassidy’s Domain Cassidy Vale’s office was a symphony of control — glass walls, cold marble, everything gleaming under the sharp city lights. The woman herself sat behind a wide desk of dark oak, a glass of deep red wine resting near her manicured fingers. Before her, a newspaper lay open — the latest edition, its front page screaming the words she had written through proxies: “COUNCIL INQUIRY TO EXPOSE QUINN’S TRUE FACE.”

Rachel replied. "Bloggers are going to print these juicy story first thing at 12 midnight," Yandel laughed. "Oh tell me about it," "Something like...Billionaire's fiancé abandons her in the middle of a red carpet for a strange woman...that would have been the end of it, but no, Yandel had to be in the story too, CEO of the Baldwin Ink tech enterprise (BIEE) abandons date and goes to save secret love interest in the middle of the red carpet…"Lovers in Feud!"...The perfect heading for tonight's drama" Rachel spoke with a newscaster's voice putting her hands together making Yandel burst into a fit of laughter.