All Chapters of My Dismissive Fake-Love Marriage: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The last collection is from Beatrice, and it’s quite well done too. Of course, that’s likely because it’s very Parisian. The dresses are short but appropriate, the skirts are long and flowy, and the tops are cotton bustier-typecamisoles under oversized linen shirts. It’s mostly solids, with a color palette of mostly pale blues and navy, though her finale maxi dress is a floral print that combines the two with a pop of red. After the show’s conclusion, he gives his notebook with his evaluations to his aunt. “A good start, don’t you think?” “I think there was a lot of promise in some of the pieces,” she answersevasively. “I look forward to seeing what another week produces.” Jackson watches as she leaves, Albert at her side, as always. They were deep in conversation, and he wonders what they were saying. Which designer theyfavored, which pieces they loved, and also, which they didn’t care for. Knowing he will be expected to make his way to the after-show cocktail hour to mingle and

“It’s something I want to focus on with my designs—making everyone feel they are accepted just as they are,” Jackson says fiercely. “An honorable goal,” he agrees just as fiercely. “But make no mistake, what Jacqueline prefers on the runway and what I prefer in my bed are not one and the same, Princesse.” She can see the fire in his eyes, the possessive appreciation, and it settles some of the concern churning deep in her gut. His words reassure her, and she was able to relax a bit, though it takes a while before she was comfortable enough to enjoy the wine, cheese, and meat again. But Jackson doesn’t seem to notice one way or the other, playing tour guide and telling her about the history ofthe gardens. Though Monica was not sure his stories are in any of the gardens’ literature. “Once, I must have been about eight, would guess . . . I was here on a school trip and we were allowed to rent the sailboats. I chose one in red and green and readied it for entry. There was another child

“We have a charity event coming up. I will have to discuss it with Jacqueline first because it’s a gala, with the highest of society attending to see and be seen, but it would be perfect to highlight the competition’s designers.There is an auction of donated pieces and vintage House Corbin pieces, even some of Jacqueline’s personal pieces, and the funds are donated to the orphanage.” “Wow, that’s amazing. You are doing so much for the boys here,” Monica tells him, touched. Monica wonders if anyone else knows Jackson’s personal connection with this cause and the way he gives his all, especially to those boys. “I was one of the boys here. For a short period compared to some of them, but it just as easily could’ve been me fighting with anyone who offeredhope because there is nothing scarier than losing hope . . . the second time.” They have made it back to the building, and he pauses at the steps. “This is where my mother left me. Or so I have been told. I don’t have any memories of

Jackson gives her a moment to adjust, to feel him stretch her, but the sensation of her velvety grip on his massive manhood ignites the animal passions inside him that he has held back for so long. In moments, he pushes forward more, sinking every bit of himself into her until they were pressed together tightly. “Oh, my beautiful Princesse,” Jackson says, but then he slips into French as he pulls back and thrust again. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, your pussy stuffed fuller than you have ever felt before. And after you come all over me, searing my name into your soul, I’m going to fill you with my hot cum . . . you are going to be mine.” “Yes,” Monica moans, even though she can’t possibly understand everything that he was saying. She just feels his hips driving into her, the thickness of his cock, the power of his thrusts as he gives her pleasure in a whole new way. “Yes.” Jackson grabs her wrists, pinning them above her head as he speeds up, holding her helpless as he takes and giv

“Yeah, sorry. Things went great with those designs I was telling you about.” Monica glances at the other girls, hoping she haven’t been busted. Thankfully, Nora seems to catch on, and she quickly switched from speaker to normal phone. “Monica, is everything okay?” Nora asks. “You can use code if you want. I’m alone here at the office.” “Yeah, yeah. No, those little worries I had about . . . skirt length, I think they worked out. We had our first show and I feel good about it.” Nora makes an unconvinced sound. “Okay, I just worry because I want you to succeed. You’re so talented. Please don’t end up messing up a good thing.” “I hear you.” “Okay, then on to me . . .” She pauses, and Monica swears she can hear her feet tippy-tapping through the line, but maybe it’s static. “I also called because I have got great news. You know all the gas and upset stomachs?” “Uh, yeah. Are you okay?” “Well . . . the doctors figured out what it is. I have got a parasite.” “A parasite?” Monica yells l,