Vengeful Desires

Chapter 5

“Oh! That looks lovely, dear!” Britney Fowler beamed.

Dutifully, Mirabelle smiled even though her cheeks protested and ached. Two hours had already passed since they stepped into the bridal shop and the term ‘fake it until you feel it’ wasn’t working for her.

Sadly, there was nothing else she could do. She caught Britney’s genuine smile in the mirror and only hoped her smile looked half as enthusiastic as her future mother-in-law’s.

Hell, if a smile got her out of trying another dress, she would gladly stretch her lips into the required shape. Unfortunately for her, they weren’t alone, and it was the third party to this wedding dress hunt nightmare that had ensured what was supposed to be a short, simple task had turned into a test of endurance and anger management.

If Mirabelle had her way, she would have done this with Kara. It would have certainly been more fun. But of course, her mother would never have allowed that.

Clarissa Clem sat next to Mrs. Fowler on the wide, comfortable couch in the store with one leg crossed elegantly over the other. She was the epitome of a brooding witch. She sat there, lightly tapping her long acrylic nails on her raised knee as she regarded Mirabelle with a blank expression.

At forty-nine, Clarissa was a stunning woman with flawless dark skin. She kept her hair only an inch long on top and closer to the scalp all around but still managed to make the look work for her. But her most appreciated feature was her curves. Unlike Mirabelle, who must have leaned genetically more toward her Caucasian father, Clarissa had the kind of curves that made both men and women stop and admire. And there lay Mirabelle’s problem.

Mirabelle caught her mother’s studying gaze and asked the question even though she was sure she wouldn’t like the response. “Mother? What do you think?”

Describing Mirabelle’s relationship with her mother as strained would have been an understatement. They had never been close from the time she was little and Mirabelle wasn’t sure why. She had stopped wondering a long time ago and just accepted it, even though it had hurt. Especially when the woman hadn’t changed, even after Mirabelle’s father died.

Hence, as expected, Clarissa’s face morphed into a disapproving grimace. “I don’t think it shows off your best qualities, Mirabelle.”

By best qualities, her mother meant her cleavage and curves, which Mirabelle sadly had considerably less of compared to her mother, and would need a dress that was skin tight and cut so low it bordered on indecent to achieve the goal. That wasn’t what Mirabelle wanted to wear for her wedding.

The dress she had on right now was beautiful. Of the five she had tried on today, it was the best. The top of the dress was designed like a corset that hugged Mirabelle’s frame beautifully. It accentuated her narrow waist, flat stomach, and her small bust. Meanwhile, the bottom cascaded in soft flowing silk that looked like liquid moonlight and formed a two-meter train behind her.

Delicate-looking off-the-shoulder straps adorned with glistening beads, the same that covered the corset, added a touch of celestial charm. When she moved, the dress flowed and danced against her skin, catching the bright lights in the store in a mesmerizing way. It was simple yet exquisite and Mirabelle thought if she had a dream dress, then this would have been the one.

But of course, her mother wouldn’t approve. God forbid the woman actually liked something Mirabelle wanted.

Britney’s brows drew together in a contemplative frown, as though she were trying to see the dress through Clarissa’s eyes. After a minute, she spoke. “I think it compliments her body. It’s definitely better than the previous dress.” Smiling apologetically, she added, “We want people talking about the wedding. Not gossiping about how… inappropriate the bride was dressed, after all.”

Oh, god bless her soul, Mirabelle thought even as she fought hard not to let it show on her face how relieved she was. Clarissa wouldn’t appreciate it if Mirabelle looked even the tiniest bit agreeable with Mrs. Fowler.

“She still needs to look her best for Dwayne,” Clarissa argued.

Unfortunately, whatever Britney was going to say was suddenly cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. With another apologetic smile, the woman rose and stepped out of the fitting room the store had provided for them to try on the dresses.

Predictably, as soon as Britney was gone, Clarissa stood and walked over to Mirabelle, her expression hard. Mirabelle expected her mother to criticize the dress some more or make a comment about not supporting her opinion. Instead, her mother asked a question she hadn’t been expecting.

“Why are you so unenthusiastic?”

“What?”

“Don’t what me. You are acting as though you are at the dentist’s office for a tooth extraction appointment instead of a bridal shop buying your wedding gown.”

Mirabelle blinked in shock but quickly recovered. She knew better than to allow her mother too much time to talk. “Maybe I’m just tired, Mother. We have been at this for days and this is the sixth place we are trying.”

Clarissa scoffed. Then, seemingly temporarily distracted, she took a step back and actually looked into the wall mirror Mirabelle had been using, running her hands over the curve-hugging dress that had the same color as pressed olives.

“It’s not my fault that we can’t seem to find the right dress for your body,” she said, still admiring herself in the mirror as she turned first one way and then the other. “Really, Mirabelle, you should have taken me up on my offer and had a boob job or something. It would have made such a difference.”

Mirabelle gritted her teeth. “I’m perfectly happy with my body, Mother. And if you stopped looking for a dress that screams ‘seduction’, we would have found a dress weeks ago. I already got the man. I don’t need to seduce him.”

Abruptly, Clarissa turned and glared at Mirabelle. “Don’t tell me you are that stupid?” she demanded sharply. “Do you have any idea how many women would want to be in your position? Dwayne is a catch. You should thank your lucky stars he saw you and even went as far as to propose to marry you. That means you have to do all you can to keep his eyes on you.”

With every word that fell out of her mother’s mouth, Mirabelle’s stomach twisted more and the bitter taste of bile tickled the back of her throat. Clearing her throat and swallowing, she said, “That just sounds desperate, Mother. I don’t think I can do desperate. Actually… I’m maybe thinking I can’t do any of this.”

Clarissa’s reaction was immediate. All manner of civilized mannerisms were dropped. She grabbed Mirabelle in a vice-like grip around her forearm and dragged her closer. “Don’t even think about getting cold feet, Mirabelle!” she hissed.

Mirabelle flinched. Sometimes she forgot how cold and manipulative her mother could be. Thankfully, Clarissa was always quick to set the records straight. What had she expected her mother to say? Certainly, Clarissa wouldn’t have asked why she was getting cold feet. If at all she could call what she felt cold feet. Mirabelle thought she was finally having an awakening of common sense and self-preservation. But was it already too late for it to make a difference?

“Mirabelle!” Clarissa hissed again when Mirabelle didn’t speak.

Ignoring the pain where her mother still gripped her and dug painful nails into her flesh so hard that she feared her skin would break, Mirabelle forced a smile. “I think I’m just tired. Let me get out of this dress and sit down.”

For a long second, Clarissa didn’t look convinced and didn’t release Mirabelle. It was as though she feared Mirabelle would flee and leave everything behind if she let go. The option definitely had its appeal. Not that Mirabelle would tell her that.

When Clarissa finally released her without a word, Mirabelle only nodded and walked out to where the store assistant was waiting to help her out of the dress. To Mirabelle’s credit, she even managed a smile for the kind woman, even though she wanted nothing more than to scream and run out of the store.

It took another hour before Mirabelle left the bridal store. Without a dress, of course. But she wasn’t the only one pissed by the matter. By the end of that unsuccessful dress hunt, Mirabelle had seen flashes of frustration on Mrs. Fowler’s face, but the woman was too sophisticated to openly speak up and tell Clarissa where she could stick her fashion critiques. Shame.

Mirabelle sighed tiredly. Who knew trying on dresses could be so exhausting? She certainly hadn’t known. And she was sure Kara would sympathize with her. Hence, it wasn’t a shock she wanted to see her best friend as soon as possible. But first, she had a book to collect from the bookstore.

A few minutes later, Mirabelle walked into the bookstore and felt more alive than she had all day. With a wide smile on her face, she walked toward Marsha, the bookstore clerk behind the checkout desk.

The kind, older woman immediately chuckled and shook her head. “I should have known you wouldn’t waste time coming for it,” Marsha said, still chuckling.

Mirabelle shrugged unapologetically. “I have been waiting for it for two months. I had to come. This is the best thing to happen all week. I can’t wait to sit down with a glass of wine and dig into it.”

Marsha’s smile was immediately sad. “Sweetie, if a book on drug metabolism and pharmacology is what gets you so excited, you need to revisit your life choices. That’s just sad.”

Mirabelle’s mouth fell open before she quickly snapped it shut and pouted at the woman. “I thought you would be the last person to judge me. You are surrounded by books and actually love your work.”

Standing, Marsha smiled mischievously. “Yes I do, but even I know I wouldn’t drink my wine with science. That’s what romance novels are for.”

Ha! A laugh burst out of Mirabelle. “Okay. If I promise to also grab one of the romance novels you love so much will you stop pitying me?”

“I have a better idea,” Marsha said more excitedly. “I will pick the novel for you. Heaven only knows what you would end up with if we left it up to you. I’ll be right back with both.” Then she was gone before Mirabelle could beg her not to pick something too erotic or dark.

Whatever. Mirabelle shook her head. She would read anything Marsha brought. The woman had never led her wrong.

Prepared to wait a while for Marsha to find her the perfect book, Mirabelle leaned her hip against the desk. She was just getting comfortable when suddenly she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand. Her senses screamed danger.

Not bothering to play it cool, she spun on her heels and swept her gaze over the large store with shelves overflowing with books of every genre. The smell of books was heavy in the air, mixed in with the aromatic scent of coffee. Light poured in from large windows and artificial bulbs, making every passageway between the tall shelves easily visible. She didn’t see anyone out of the ordinary. Only two other individuals were in the store, and both seemed particularly engrossed in whatever they were reading.

Mirabelle almost dismissed the feeling as a fluke or her paranoia getting the better of her, but just then a voice she hadn’t thought she would hear again spoke behind her.

“The angel loves books. Who would have thought?”