Why did no one tell me explicitly about all the jitters one could easily get while meeting their husband’s family?
I had met enough of Chase’s family already, so why did I feel so anxious? Surely, no one could be worse than Uncle Bedford and his son, Ryder, now, could they?
“Madam, do you like your hair?” I heard the soft voice of a woman.
“Sorry, what?”
“Your hair madam. Do you like it?” I heard the voice again and almost immediately, I was pulled out from my questioning and consuming thoughts.
Looking up, my eyes met my reflection. Behind me was my s*x-ed tutor of a maid with a tail comb, carefully patting my hair, although it was already in a perfect position.
She had done an excellent job, in all honesty. As carefully as she could, she styled my hair into a low sleek bun and l
