Les douze nouvelles nouvelles
Les douze nouvelles nouvelles
Ils valsaient avec emportement, mais avec abandon, ce qui est la grace suprême de la valse. Il y avait un peu de l'épervier qui enlève une colombe. On lui en voulait presque, à lui, de sa rapidité vertigineuse, mais on voyait bien que la jeune fille se livrait sans peur, enivrée par le tourbillon.
Et quand ce fut fini, elle lui dit, tout en se dégageant:
-Avec qui, monsieur, ai-je eu le plaisir de valser dans cette réunion selected?
-Oh! mon Dieu, mademoiselle, un nom ridicule; je ne descends ni des croisés ni de l'Oeil-de-Boeuf. Je m'appelle tout bêtement M. Arthur Dupont. Maintenant, si vous êtes curieuse de savoir ma profession, je suis auditeur au Conseil d'état, profession tout aussi ridicule que l'est mon nom.
Un physionomiste qui e?t étudié la figure de la jeune fille aurait bien vu passer un nuage sur l'enjouement passionné de la valseuse. Elle retombait sur la terre du haut de son envolement amoureux.
Arthur Dupont! porter dans le monde un nom qui n'est pas mondain, n'est-ce pas y para?tre dans un habit mal fait, avec une cravate mal mise?
La jeune fille reprit son fauteuil avec un sourire impertinent, se disant tout bas: ?Auditeur au Conseil d'état! En effet, il a de grandes oreilles.?
Parti pris, car Arthur Dupont avait de jolies oreilles. C'était d'ailleurs ce qu'on peut appeler un joli valseur, qui ne déparait ni le monde où l'on s'amuse ni le monde où l'on s'ennuie; profil à peu près correct, front lumineux, yeux vifs, bouche spirituelle.
Sa valseuse était sévère; on peut bien s'appeler Arthur Dupont sans encourir les foudres de la mode.. C'est que cette valseuse avait été élevée par sa mère à jouer les Célimènes, celles qui n'aiment que leurs robes, leur éventail et leur beauté,-même quand elles ne sont pas belles. Il est vrai que celle-ci était bien jolie: figure parisienne à donner le vertige à ceux qui n'ont pas couru les filles du demi-monde. Ce qui surtout couronnait son air impertinent, c'est qu'elle portait un grand nom, que je masquerai ici par celui de Laure de Montaignac.
Une de ses amies la félicita d'avoir si bien valsé avec un si bon valseur.
-Je ne m'en souviens pas, dit-elle d'un air distrait.
Vint une autre valse. Elle prit un mauvais valseur; elle en faillit briser son éventail. Aussi Arthur Dupont fut-il le bienvenu quand il se présenta pour la troisième valse. Elle s'avoua alors que le nom ne faisait pas l'homme. Ce fut un si joli spectacle de les voir, elle et lui, valser en tourbillonnant, que tout le monde applaudit comme si on e?t entendu chanter la Patti et jouer Sarah Bernhardt. Laure s'indigna.
-Me prend-on pour une comédienne? Je valse pour moi et non pour la galerie.
Ceci se passait à l'ambassade d'Espagne. Le lendemain, autre fête chez Mme Mackay; nouvelles valses; les oreilles parurent moins grandes, le nom moins vulgaire, tandis que le valseur parut plus entra?nant.
Cela continua toute la semaine, si bien que le bruit se répandit dans le monde que M. Arthur Dupont épousait Mlle Laure de Montaignac.
-Pourquoi pas? dit Arthur à Laure.
Mais Laure répondit à Arthur:
-Comment voulez-vous que je change mon nom contre le v?tre? Ah! si vous étiez tout à coup, par un miracle, un homme d'état, un ambassadeur, un grand poète, un grand peintre....
-Je ne suis, hélas! rien de tout cela, dit le valseur avec amertume.
Il aimait follement Laure, il ne se croyait pas à une si grande distance de l'idéal de la jeune fille.
-Encore, lui dit-elle avec un soupir, si vous aviez une écurie et un four in hands!
-Qu'à cela ne tienne, s'écria Arthur en lui saisissant la main. Vous savez que j'ai quelque fortune; dès demain j'aurai une écurie, co?te que co?te. Où la voulez-vous!
-A Chantilly, pour le plus beau rally-papers d'outre-Manche.
For three years, I documented the slow death of my marriage in a black journal. It was my 100-point divorce plan: for every time my husband, Blake, chose his first love, Ariana, over me, I deducted points. When the score hit zero, I would leave. The final points vanished the night he left me bleeding out from a car crash. I was eight weeks pregnant with the child we had prayed for. In the ER, the nurses frantically called him-the star surgeon of the very hospital I was dying in. "Dr. Santos, we have a Jane Doe, O-negative, bleeding out. She's pregnant, and we're about to lose them both. We need you to authorize an emergency blood transfer." His voice came over the speaker, cold and impatient. "I can't. My priority is Miss Whitfield. Do what you can for the patient, but I can't divert anything right now." He hung up. He condemned his own child to death to ensure his ex-girlfriend had resources on standby after a minor procedure.
She came to survive. He was born to rule. Fate made them mates. And that's where the nightmare began. Evangeline has spent her whole life on the edge, unwanted, unclaimed, and surviving in the shadows of Crescent Moon Pack. A omega by blood and an outcast by choice, she's learned to keep her head down and her scars hidden. But when her dying uncle asks her to enroll at Blackclaw Academy, a school built on bloodlines, brutality, and unforgiving rules..... she agrees. For him, not for herself. She expected whispers. Glares. Even cruelty. What she didn't expect was Ronan Nightbane. The future Alpha. Cold. Untouchable. Worshipped. Feared. And the one the Moon Goddess bound her soul to. Being his mate should've meant protection. Belonging. Destiny. But Ronan wants none of it. He rejects her in front of the entire academy. Mocks her. Marks her as nothing more than a mistake. A threat. A girl born of nothing, who means even less. But Evangeline? She doesn't break. Not for him. Not for anyone. Because the power buried inside her was never meant to be found. The truth behind her blood could burn the entire pack system to the ground. And Ronan, no matter how hard he fights it.... can't stay away. Their bond is poisonous. Addictive. Dangerous. And when war creeps closer and secrets claw their way into the light, he'll have to make a brutal choice: Reject her... or ruin them both.
After five years of playing the perfect daughter, Rylie was exposed as a stand-in. Her fiancé bolted, friends scattered, and her adoptive brothers shoved her out, telling her to grovel back to her real family. Done with humiliation, she swore to claw back what was hers. Shock followed: her birth family ruled the town's wealth. Overnight, she became their precious girl. The boardroom brother canceled meetings, the genius brother ditched his lab, the musician brother postponed a tour. As those who spurned her begged forgiveness, Admiral Brad Morgan calmly declared, "She's already taken."
Rachel used to think that her devotion would win Brian over one day, but she was proven wrong when his true love returned. Rachel had endured it all-from standing alone at the altar to dragging herself to the hospital for an emergency treatment. Everyone thought she was crazy to give up so much of herself for someone who didn't return her feelings. But when Brian received news of Rachel's terminal illness and realized she didn't have long to live, he completely broke down. "I forbid you to die!" Rachel just smiled. She no longer needed him. "I will finally be free."
"My sister threatens to take my mate. And I let her keep him." Born without a wolf, Seraphina is the disgrace of her pack-until a drunken night leaves her pregnant and married to Kieran, the ruthless Alpha who never wanted her. But their decade-long marriage was no fairytale. For ten years, she endured the humiliation: No Luna title. No mating mark. Just cold sheets and colder stares. When her perfect sister returned, Kieran filed for divorce the same night. And her family was happy to see her marriage broken. Seraphina didn't fight but left silently. However, when danger struck, shocking truths emerged: ☽ That night wasn't an accident ☽ Her "defect" is actually a rare gift ☽ And now every Alpha-including her ex-husband-will fight to claim her Too bad she's done being owned. *** Kieran's growl vibrated through my bones as he pinned me against the wall. The heat of him seared through layers of fabric. "You think leaving is that easy, Seraphina?" His teeth grazed the unmarked skin of my throat. "You. Are. Mine." A hot palm slid up my thigh. "No one else will ever touch you." "You had ten years to claim me, Alpha." I bared my teeth in a smile. "Funny how you only remember I'm yours... when I'm walking away."
It took me five years after my son was born to finally realize the truth-he never loved us. To end this painful marriage, I decided to take my son and leave. But fate played a cruel trick on us. During a rogue attack, I lost my wolf spirit, and my son lost an eye. Just as I was drowning in despair, my usually cold and distant husband knelt before everyone, begging for forgiveness and swearing he'd be our rock for life. So, my son and I gave him a chance-a 100-day trial. If he proved himself, we'd stay. But on the 99th day... fate shattered everything again.
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