Veneer X Ritz Novels & Stories

EVE I took a deep breath, brushing off the non-existent lint off the long velvet sleeves of my dress, and straightened my shoulders. Grabbing the handle of the door, I pulled it open and walked inside, the smell of coq au vin and calvados hitting my nose and making the hunger that sat in my stomach ten times worse. I then noticed how different the place had looked since the last time I came here, although that had been in the daytime. Beingeam dark out already, the place went from a brunch-time bistro to a candlelit rendezvous for honeymooners.

the blonde said quietly before the elevator door clicked shut. He took off his shades and tucked them in his pocket before immediately heading for the door in the middle of the small space that seemed like another lobby although it was totally empty. He pushed it open without knocking and he was once again welcomed by the well designed office. The colours, black and gray dominated the room with the dark red rug acting as the only different shade. The furniture was well arranged and he looked to the floor to ceiling window at the far side of the office to see the streets of Manhattan below and rolled up against the ceiling were black coloured Venetian blinds. To the opposite side of the room

Silks, satins, and lace whispered against the polished floors, parading before them like a private fashion show meant for their eyes only. “I wonder why Rios hasn’t made an effort to talk about the wedding yet,” Beatrice mused, twirling the stem of her champagne flute between her fingers. Her voice was casual, but the sharpness in her eyes betrayed her irritation. “Here we are, bonding over wedding gowns, but my supposed groom hasn’t even spoken to me about it.” “I’ve heard about your visit to my father, Don Felix,” Rita said quietly, her gaze focused on examining the fabric before her.

The pressure of it made my spine straighten and my lungs fill up all weird. The Ritz-Carlton South Beach was dressed up like a bride. White florals everywhere. Crystal chandeliers, cold AC blasting through the lobby like it was January, not June. It smelled like lavender and money and some kind of expensive wood I didn’t know the name of. I was still wearing my sunglasses when we walked in. Anna had the entire top floor of the hotel reserved. Suites for her bridesmaids. A penthouse for herself. Another for Professor King. One for Miles and I. Of course.

It's better not to get in his bad side. Veena looked around in awe of Mr. Rossenov's apartment. It feels cozy with a mix of warm and cool interior colors. "Which room I'll be staying?" Veena asked Abby. "Over there, Miss Harrison. Mr. Rossenov has reserved you a seat at Piazza Deluxe. He won't be able to join you since he has a meeting to attend to." "Okay. Tell him my thanks." The maitre d’ led her to the reserved table with a breathtaking view of Geneva’s seaside. All of the pain, suffering and sacrifices in her heart fell down the drain and replaced by a sense of relaxation and relief.

"We'll just start in a minute." "You haven't started? God! This is heights, " said Jaxon and Ralph could hear everyone chuckling in the background. "Okay, bye, see you soon," said Ralph with a faint color on his cheeks. After he had disconnected the call, he picked up Raven's coffee and pulled her along to the dining table. "Eat up and we'll leave," he said, pushing the food towards her. Raven nodded shyly and ate up. After ten minutes, they left their apartment and Ralph's chauffeur drove them to the wedding venue. After twenty minutes, they reached Pier Sixty which was one of Manhattan’s most spectacular wedding venues offering breathtaking views of the Hudson.

The Vanderbilts were old-money billionaires, a stark contrast to Raven’s self-made success. With Irene’s assistance, I blow-dried my hair and applied a touch of makeup—something I rarely did on my own. Raven presented me with a sleek black dress that complemented his casual yet elegant outfit. I sighed, longing to lounge in comfort, but I knew I had to rise to the occasion. After all, this was the perfect opportunity to use the Golden VIP Pass my grandmother had entrusted to me.

I found myself turning my face to the window, letting silence blanket the rest of the ride so I could get myself under control. Verve & Vellum was located on one of the quieter, more exclusive streets in the city. where the buildings were elegant in that timeless European way, all clean white stone and discreet gold plaques. The glass doors to the couture house were opened for us before we could even reach for the handle, and a poised hostess welcomed us with reverence usually reserved for royalty.

Shawn Reid The penthouse had transformed into a war room of white and gold. Swatches of silk, floral arrangements from the top Manhattan designers, and architectural renderings of the venue covered every surface. I stood at the center of it all, sleeves rolled to my forearms, reviewing the final guest list on my tablet while the city lights of New York sparkled beyond the windows like a jeweled backdrop.

BANKS POV Her boutique is less expansive than the old-money heritage houses I typically frequent. It's operating instead as a highly focused, stringently controlled workspace of emerging high-end ambition. The air lacks the oppressive weight of centuries-old privilege, but it carries the sharp, clinical scent of raw textile potential and intentional luxe. "We have a selection of vintage Amarone, a limited-reserve single malt, and champagne crisping," Rita says, maintaining a precise two-step distance beside me as I scan the bespoke racks. Behind her, an assistant seamlessly presents a polished silver tray displaying the exact bottles she mentioned.