Chapter 25 Fit for Mrs Rutherford
CHAPTER 25: Fit for Mrs Rutherford
Natalie
I adjusted the lapels of my cream blazer, checking my reflection in the gilded mirrors of Laurent’s VIP lounge as I ended the call with our prospective client.
The space was an architectural wonder, a testament to old-money luxury and understated elegance.
A soft classical piece played in the background, mixing with the heady scent of expensive leather and French perfume.
“Yes, that works,” I said into the phone. “I’ll have legal send the revised draft by morning.”
I cut the call and tucked my phone away, just as the heavy oak doors swung open, and Silas walked in.
Beside him, looking like a ghost caught in a spotlight, was his new wife, Vera.
She looked pale, her skin almost translucent under the harsh chic light of the lounge’s lighting.
The moment she saw me, she didn't just tense, something shifted. Her fingers knotted tightly over her purse as an unmistakable wave of discomfort rolled off her. Her timidity was a stark contrast to the rigid commanding aura of the man whose arm remained firmly snaked around her waist.
“Natalie,” Silas acknowledged. He didn’t wait for a greeting. “Get started now. She's ready.”
He turned to Vera, “Natalie has already had a dress commissioned for you. It’s for the event I told you about. LutherCorp’s anniversary.”
Oh, wow. He was just informing her now.
Vera looked like she didn't understand a word, but she still nodded.
I offered a small, practiced smile that didn’t reach my eyes.
“Hi, Vera.”
“Hello,” she replied in a low voice.
I wondered for the umpteenth time why Silas had picked such a pale insipid girl for something as crucial as this. And now, he was even getting affected by her.
I couldn’t understand her appeal, except her resemblance to his late wife.
I approached them in unhurried measured steps, my hands clasped behind my back.
“It’s a custom piece, Vera. You'd love it. Chloe’s really good at what she does. It’s the perfect dress to ensure the Rutherford name is represented with the appropriate... gravity.”
She looked toward Silas, but he was already busy on his phone.
Before she could offer more than a shaky nod, Chloe, the house’s lead designer and owner of Laurent, a woman I had kept on retainer for years, glided out from the atelier.
Chloe was a shark in silk. She drove her fashion empire with the same ferocity that I had for my career. Maybe that was why we got along so well.
Her eyes scanned Vera with a clinical, almost predatory sharpness.
“Mrs. Rutherford, I presume?”she chirped, leaning in for an air kiss, though her gaze was already dissecting Vera’s silhouette.
“Yes,” Vera replied.
I watched her stumble through what I presumed was her first brush with the high society style of greeting.
Chloe made a face of disapproval.
By now, Silas had moved further away to answer a call.
“We didn’t meet during the wedding. But I must offer my congratulations and…well-wishes.”
Vera tucked a strand behind her, her timidity evident. “Thank you,” she replied. “The dress was beautiful—”
Chloe was already on the move.
“Come with me. We must hurry. We have much to adjust if we want this to be…perfect.”
As Chloe led a reluctant Vera who kept looking back at Silas toward the fitting rooms, Silas stepped into my personal space.
By the look on his face, I knew what this was about.
The air between us turned icy in a heartbeat.
“I want a word with you, Natalie,” he said, his tone devoid of the polite veneer he used for the public.
I raised a brow, smoothing the front of my slacks. “You sound quite intense.”
“Don’t play games,” he snapped, his eyes darkening to a lethal shade of obsidian. “The reporters at the hospital. The flashes of cameras in the hallway. You were behind that. Don't you dare fucking deny it,” he seethed icily.
I didn’t flinch, despite the small chill that crawled up my spine. I simply met his gaze with the same cold practicality that we both possessed, the same that had made our relationship endure through the years.
“It was necessary, Silas. We need the narrative to be airtight before the gala. Before the entire world, too.” I tilted my head. “Tell me, what better way to paint the picture of genuine domesticity than the random photo of a devoted husband accompanying his pregnant wife to a check-up? That isn't just news; it’s a shield. It makes it real. I'm just tightening up loose ends.”
His jaw ticked.
“And that's just the problem. My life is not a fucking PR problem that you fix,” he snapped. “I told you I would handle the image.”
“It didn't seem that way to me—”
“Don't…” he cut in cleanly, stepping closer until I could feel the heat of his suppressed fury. “Do not go behind my back again. My life, and my privacy is not your playground for PR stunts. Am I clear?”
The sting of his rebuke burned, but beyond that, I was genuinely confused and pissed.
“What are you talking about? This is all part of our plan,” I reminded him. “None of this is real.”
“That still doesn't justify going behind my back and making decisions on your own. Don't forget, I'm still in charge. I call the shots,” he seethed. “You’re still my employee. Friend…or not.”
That stung. A lot.
I had no idea why, but it did.
Silas and I had been a team…partners, for a long time. Even when he was devoted to his late wife, he never lost his temper with me.
The first time that Silas was speaking to me in that manner, it was all because of her.
Vera.
Still, I kept my expression a mask of professional indifference.
“Perfect. But remember, Silas,” I said, my voice dropping to a sharp whisper, “you can't lose sight of the plan. We didn't come this far to let it all crumble because you've suddenly become sensitive about your…privacy.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned sharply on my heel and walked toward the fitting rooms, my heart drumming a rhythm of pure irritation.
Losing my restraint was something I hated, and if I stayed any longer, that might happen.
I needed to see how our ‘investment’ was fitting into her new skin.
I pushed open the heavy velvet curtain of the fitting suite and stopped.
Vera was standing on the pedestal, draped in a sheer, unfinished gown of midnight blue that I had chosen.
She looked so miserable and out of place that one might pity her.
But not me.
First she was just an inconsequential pawn on a chess piece…a means to an end.
Now, she was becoming a cause for alarm. If she was affecting Silas just barely hours into this arrangement, then she had to be viewed as a potential threat.
Chloe was kneeling at her feet, pins between her teeth. I was about to fully walk into the room, but her commentary caught my attention.
“My, my,” Chloe tsked, her voice carrying a veiled, snide edge I had heard her use for clients she deemed unworthy of her service.
She yanked the fabric tight around Vera’s waist. “You’ve certainly filled out rather quickly, haven’t you? This midsection is... problematic for the silhouette I envisioned. And the breasts…everything is so much heavier than the measurements I worked with for the wedding dress which Natalie provided.”
Obviously, the extra weight was as a result of her pregnancy.
But Chloe didn't know that.
A slow, cold smile spread across my face. I leaned against the doorframe, watching as Vera’s face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson. She looked small, her eyes darting to the floor as she recoiled into her shell.
It wasn’t a bad idea for her to understand the standard she was stepping into as early as now.
I strolled into the room, a small smile on my face.
“Chloe, be nice,” I interjected, though my tone was light, almost mocking. “Vera’s in a delicate condition, after all.”
Chloe snorted, rising to her feet to adjust the shoulder straps. “I’m just being honest, Natalie. I know bodies change often, but this is a whole leap,” she threw out her hands in a slightly exaggerated manner.
Vera lowered her gaze, awash with shame and humiliation.
“It’s a tragedy to model such a stunning piece on a frame that’s losing its lines. Now, if I were fitting you,” Chloe continued, casting a long, admiring look at my own figure, “the drape would be effortless…phenomenal.”
I laughed, softly, waving away her comment. “You're flattering me. Either way, I'd still patronise your stunning couture pieces.”
She beamed. “I always thought you and Silas would be the ones standing at the altar in the end. You both just make sense,” she said. “And you my dear, have the stature for it. The grace.”
I let out a soft, melodic laugh, watching Vera’s knuckles turn white as she gripped the fabric of her skirt.
“Oh dear, you flatter me way too much. Stop being ridiculous, Chloe. Silas and I are just old friends, work colleagues. What we have may not be the bond of matrimony,” I paused, casting a glance at Vera, “but it's just as strong, if not stronger, seasoned by years of mutual respect, trust and admiration.”
“The best lovers most times begin as friends.”
I laughed.
“Not us. I'm afraid we're not suited as a couple. At last, he made his choice, and I must say, it's a worthy choice in the end,” I finished with a smile in Vera’s direction.
“A strange choice,” Chloe muttered, her eyes narrowing as she poked a pin a little too close to Vera’s skin, causing her to flinch. “To go from someone like... well, to this. It’s quite the leap. I can't begin to make sense of it,” she added, shaking her head.
Vera’s eyes were glassy at this point, a thin veil of tears threatening to spill over as she stood there, vulnerable and pelted by the barely veiled insults in a room full of women who viewed her as unworthy and insufficient.
“I suppose most times, men like Silas Rutherford prefer something… mundane,” Chloe added, her voice dripping with mock pity and disgust.
Immediately, the sound of the heavy curtain being ripped back with a heavy force, shrieked across the room.
“That's enough.”
Silas stood in the doorway, his voice like a blade of ice cutting through the tense atmosphere.