The Blackmail Bride

Chapter 50 Part 1

*author peeking out at the angry readers*

By-Product

I think it finally caught up to me the next day—All the stress that I'd been going through.

My body felt like lead. And even before I opened my eyes, I knew I was shivering.

The blanket suddenly being ripped from me felt like punishment. I was awake but with my eyes closed. In the state I was, I forced my eyes open to look at the person who did it. A shock of gray eyes greeted me.

"Jace," I complained weakly, "Don't—"

A hand was pressed over my forehead. I instantly realized I was burning up. The hand was too cold, but I just knew that had to be the normal temperature. Was the air-conditioning on?

"You have a fever," Jace seemed to confirm.

The man wasted no time, pulling me up to a sitting position despite my protesting. I wanted to say I could get up on my own... but my heavy body wouldn't have let me. So, I was pulled up and into his chest, before settling me down on the pillows propped against the headboard. That position shift alone made me feel dizzy. Jace was sat on the edge of my side of the bed, and he was frowning down at me.

It felt like I had a mouthful of sand, my lips rough and throat parched. And as I stared eye-to-eye with Jace, alarm was etched into those drawn eyebrows. He didn't say anything before pressing the back of his hand over my neck. I flinched at the touch of his freezing skin and flinched again when his hand went to my forehead a second time. For a stretch of time, he remained mute. Scanning me over and over with his eyes.

Jace sighed, "You get sick a lot."

Not really, I wanted to say.

I rarely got sick growing up. But as I looked down at my wrists... I had to confess they were thinner, and my complexion duller. There was some truth to that observation. But my cooked brain didn't seem to want to admit it too easily.

"Lately, that seems to be the case." I finally settled on that reply.

Obviously, that wasn't the desired response. Jace's face darkened.

For my muddled thoughts though, his expression was humorous. I couldn't help the tug at the ends of my lips.

"It's not funny, Isla." Jace snapped at me. Immediately, he was standing up. He rounded the bed then picked up his phone from his bedside drawer. I took in what he wore—A white shirt and striped pajama bottoms, his feet bare. His bronze hair was messier than usual as he passed a hand over it, pushing it off his face.

Jace tapped at the screen before putting it to his ear and giving me another glance.

I carefully turned my head, watching as he walked a bit off.

"Who are you calling—?"

"Tristan," Jace spoke into the phone, "Yeah, are you available today?" Jace walked out of the room and the rest of the conversation was done out of my earshot. I stared at the door. It wasn't long before Jace was back into the room.

His eyes were automatically on me. And I stared back quietly until I felt the goosepimples on my skin and I had to pull the covers up to my neck to keep in some warmth.

Jace sighed heavily, returning to my side, and pressing his hand over my forehead. "Seriously, I don't know what to do with you."

I coughed—which earned me a pointed look.

"Water, paracetamol?" And I added because of the way he was staring at me so, "There's nothing to be angry about."

"Then don't get sick."