The Blackmail Bride

Chapter 15

I had a spurt of inspiration so... here's to the next chapter.

Agreeable

"They're here!"

Rosalie Black stood at the entrance of the fashion house in one of those six-inch Louboutin peep-toes that I personally would not recommend. From experience, it was never comfortable as graceful as it looked. But Jace's mother strutted in them with the grace of a born socialite. She was poised in a brown leather pencil skirt, white ruffle blouse and belt glinting with the Chanel logo. Bronze hair pulled back in a perfect chignon and her dimples seeping real warmth into her serene smile.

Jace opened his car door for me, grumbling under his breath, "Mom, the whole building doesn't need to know."

I suppressed a smile as I took the extended hand offered and stepped out of the passenger side.

Jace's face was carefully blanked and I wasn't sure if I should do the same. However, it became automatic upon seeing my mom pop out the same entrance Rosalie Black currently stood in. Mom looked a lot like me. Although she was blonde, tall and tan, we had the same blue eyes. Blue eyes who scanned me critically at first sight.

I stiffened beside Jace. Automatically reaching out my hand to place it in the crook of the Jace's arm.

That earned me a nod in acknowledgement.

I believe Jace noticed the exchange. It brought that wry expression to the stoic face and he said to me, "I want this over quickly."

He started walking and I stumbled to follow.

"Jace," my mother smiled triumphantly with a raised eyebrow.

It was embarrassing, to be honest. And I stepped up, knowing Jace's dislike for my family. I leaned in, kissing her on both cheeks, "Hello, mom."

I wore my best smile for the benefit of our audience. And for her part, my mother eyed me with the look that said behave.

Jace seemed to ignore my parent entirely, turning to his own mother, "Let's make this quick. I have work to do."

Rosalie Black pouted like a child, glaring at her only son. "You're just an accessory for this booking! We've planned this whole thing to make sure Isla shines on her birthday. Isn't that right, Isla?"

My wince was quelled in time, as all eyes shifted to me. They were waiting for a reply. I blinked at Jace's mother, "O-of course, M—" I stopped myself in time. Do I call her mom in front of Jace? Mrs. Black seemed most appropriate—

"I told you to call me mom, dear. We're family here."

Jace dramatically turned his head in my direction. He widened his eyes at me. I gave him a split-second glare even as my face colored.

"Mom."

Rosalie Black gave me one of her radiant smiles. My mother was pleased, satisfied.

My mother cleared her throat, "We should get in. The designer is waiting for us."

It was the same fashion house we visited for my wedding gown fitting. And the designer, with her gay assistant who helped me the last time, waited for us in the receiving area. The greeted us with just the right amount of jubilance.

"We're almost done with your gown. I swear you'd love it!"

I nodded, appreciating their warm welcome but Jace snorted, already unimpressed for some reason.

"This better not be like the last dress. That thing had to be at least ten pounds. You almost killed her with suffocation."

The designer, a brunette in her forties wearing plain jeans and a shirt, laughed awkwardly, glancing at my side, "Well, we were simply following the specifications of the mother of the bride—"