The Blackmail Bride

Chapter 45

Sleep when you can, people.

Fired

"Jace..."

His head turned to my voice at once. And when those gunmetal gray eyes found my face. Those were smoldering—the rage in them was at par or even greater than that of Zeke Garcia. But there was also something else there. Something akin to fear or frustration—

"Isla, what are you doing here?"

"Call security!" The chairman turned to Sierra who immediately nodded. She pulled a phone out, watching Zeke with a pale pallor.

"Let go of me!" Zeke continually pushed against the people holding him back. He laughed manically, "Did you see what he did? That's Jace Black for you! That deranged, self-absorbed hypocrite who married that Porter brat so he could—"

I wasn't even sure why I knew, but I grabbed Jace's arm just has he turned back to Zeke, readying for another punch. My eyes pled with him as my heart raced.

The boardroom in total chaos, we stared at each other. He was scanning me. Looking up and down my body and returning to my face. Was that relief? But it was immediately replaced with anger that could no longer be contained in those gray eyes.

He grabbed me by the wrist and in the next second, I was being pulled out of that room.

"Sir Jace!" Sierra's voice was cut off by the closing door.

A storm was coming. And as I tried my best to follow Jace's pace. He was dragging me. I tried calling out to him but it was as if he didn't hear me.

His office was also in the 32nd floor. I was pushed into the room and the heavy wooden door closed with a thud. I was pulled into the middle of the room. His grip let go of me as we faced each other.

"What the hell were you doing there, Isla?"

And it was just us now. Me, shaken up by what just happened, and Jace, who made his fury palpable with just his eyes.

It was as if all my bravado was sucked out of my head with the events. For all my easy eloquence facing the boardroom, I was finding myself mute in front of Jace Black.

But the glare he was giving me demanded answers that I had to give.

"I was standing in for you," I replied.

Disbelief. "Who told you you could do this?"

I shook my head, "No one." And as if on reflex, I added, "You just seemed to need the help, so I gave it."

Telling a livid person that the action you took was for him must have had to be the worst thing to do because it was as if he exploded on the spot.

"Help me? Who told you I needed the help?" The glare was piercing.

And with great effort, I blanked my expression. "Your plane was delayed. I was buying you time so you could present your findings on your own—"

It was as if the words from my mouth were becoming more and more ridiculous the longer he listened, "Did I ask for your help?"

Staring straight at those angry eyes, I asked the obvious—"Would you have asked?"

"No!" Jace raged, "Do you think this is helping my cause? It's chaos out there!"

Was I wrong?

For all the ground I thought I covered in that boardroom, it took my infuriated husband's words to question whether I was right or wrong with what I did. I had more confidence in that meeting hall earlier than I did at the litany of angry questions by Jace Black.