16. Bree

brEE

It's beena few days since Declan and I had sex. And it was even more confusing than the Vegas trip, to be honest. It was like he was making love to me instead of just fucking me, and I have no idea how to deal with the feelings it brings up.

Now it's Monday, and once again, Declan is out. In fact, this happens every Monday like clockwork.

Maybe this is something I can use to escape. It might be the only way I could get past him.

Gray isn't here on Mondays either, so they might be doing jobs together.

The sisters are almost always home, but often Lara will be in her room and Paige will be out with friends, especially now that she is looking for a place to move out.

Usually on Mondays, I don't see a single family member until dinner, when everyone comes together again, just like they do nearly every night.

They work together, eat together, and live together, and although occasionally I'll see Declan and Gray butt heads, it's not that serious or that often.

I can't imagine living in a household like that. I love my brother Rory, but he also drove me crazy, and we often argued while he was living at home. I know he loves me, and we are closer now, but I also know that he prefers to have nothing to do with our family business. I haven't seen him in so long now. Over a year.

My brain keeps telling me to formulate a plan, to run, escape, but my heart is saying something else entirely. My heart is saying that I may be falling in love with Declan Burke.

And what does that say about me? Have I developed some kind of odd Stockholm syndrome? He literally kidnapped me and forced me to marry him.

There's something broken inside me, evidently. Because otherwise, who would start falling for their captor?

And deep down, I know that Declan and his family plan to hurt my father. Maybe even kill him.

How can I want to be with a man that wants to harm my father?

He may not be the world's best dad, but he's been there for me, and since Rory moved out and distanced himself from my father and the business, it's just been me and him. He needs me. And without my mom, and my estranged brother, he's all I have.

Declan and his family talk about him like he's some kind of terrible person, akin to a monster. But he loved my mother so deeply, and I believe that he loves me and Rory, too, in his own way. He can't be a monster. Can he?

If I could just get a message to my father, I know that he'd come for me. That'd he'd save me from this place. And even though my feelings about the Burke clan have changed slightly, I still miss my family. Especially while Declan is away.

So, on Tuesday night, when Declan is finally home, it's time to take the first step in my plan.

I arrive at dinner before everyone else, basically because I have nothing else to do. It's not like I get to go out with my girlfriends or visit my brother or anything. I'm just stuck in this house. I spend most of my time either in the bedroom or at the pool. I'm developing a tan from swimming so much in the open air.

I stay mostly quiet at dinner, just forcing a smile when Patrick cracks a joke or Paige talks about the houses she visited that day. Apparently, she has narrowed her choices down to a couple already.

Declan keeps watching me, his brows furrowed.

I stand up before dessert. "I'm not feeling very well. May I be excused?"

I can feel Declan's eyes on me, but it's Patrick that I address.

He nods distractedly, deep in conversation with Gray, before looking up briefly at me. "Go on, sweetheart. I hope you feel better."

Declan stands, too, not asking to be excused, just putting his hand on my lower back, leading me up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" he asks close to my ear as we walk up to the bedroom, and I shake my head.

"Nothing."

He frowns harder, his generous mouth turning down at the corners. "Don't lie to me, Bree."

I huff out a breath. "Why shouldn't I? You lie to me all the time."

"What are you talking about?"

"You say I'm not in a prison," I whisper, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You say that I'll be well taken care of?—"

"And you are," he interrupts. "But yet, you keep sulking."

I bite my tongue at the sharp remark that comes to mind at his choice of words. I have to stay calm, or I'll never be able to convince him to let me talk to my father.

"It's my father's birthday tomorrow." I'm not actually lying. It's true. My father turns fifty-eight tomorrow, and we usually have a big celebration. I wonder if Rory will show up this time, since I won't be there. In fact, I wonder if Rory even knows or cares that I'm not home. Will he help my father save me? Or does he think I brought this upon myself when I refused to follow him out of this life?

I hope they are working together to bring me home.

Except for that pesky part of me that is an absolute fool for Declan Burke. I push that part down, deep inside me so that I can do this.

"Oh." Declan blinks. "Is that all?"

I glare at him. "Well, it's not like I can call him up and tell him happy birthday."

"You can write him a letter, send a card or something." Declan shrugs. "As long as I get to read it, and you don't give out any information, we have no problem getting it to him in time."

My eyes widen. I wasn't expecting that at all. I was expecting maybe a quick phone call from a burner phone. This is so much better.

I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly, and he chuckles, turning his head to kiss my cheek.

"If I had known a card makes you this happy, I'd have let you send him one a long time ago."

I smile. "You'll have it delivered on time?"

"Today." He smiles, as if he's done some big favor for me. And in a way, I guess he has.

Declan takes me into his office, handing me a sheet of paper and various pens in different colors.

"Just in case you want to draw some balloons or something," he mutters, like I'm a little kid making a card for her dad. It's kind of cute.

I smile. "Thank you."

He nods, leaving the room and giving me my privacy, and I stare down at the blank page for a long time. I'll have to word this carefully.

My father and I have a code. We always have, since I was little, because he was paranoid that anyone would read something important. This code has been engrained in me ever since I learned how to write and even more when I started helping him with the books on business matters.

A different person's name for each day of the week. Thursday is Tony, Saturday is Salvatore, and so on.

I know exactly what to say so that he'll know when to come for me.

Yet for some reason, I have a hard time putting my pen to paper.

What if my father comes and saves me? What happens then? Will my father want blood?

My breath catches in my throat when I imagine something happening to Declan or my father. I don't want any of the Burkes to be hurt, but I know my father, and he can be vengeful. Ruthless.

I have to get out of here.

Just because Declan isn't the Irish scourge people made him out to be doesn't mean that I should stay in a forced marriage. Maybe if things were different—maybe if we'd met and fallen in love, maybe if I'd chosen this...

I can't think that way. I have to focus on the present, and on my future, and I'll have no type of future being trapped here with the Burkes.

I draw in a sharp breath and force myself to start to write.

Daidí,

I'm doing okay. I am well taken care of.

I hope you are okay too.

How's Molly? Give her a big cuddle for me and tell her she's a good girl.

There. This will be enough to let him know Monday is the best day.

Are you having a good birthday? How is your back? You need to rest it more often, especially after your injury.

And this will let him know to be careful and bring backup.

Take Molly on a long walk as a surprise from me.

I love you and happy birthday.

Even though being here has felt more like home than I ever felt with my father, I do miss him.

I reread it and sign it.

It's short and sweet and enough to let him know I'll be waiting.

I don't think Declan will have any qualms about delivering it or sending it.

Everything in the note is somewhat true. Except Molly died eighteen months ago from old age.

My palms are sweating, the hair standing up on the nape of my neck.

What if he knows? What if he suspects?

And why do I feel awful about this? Don't I want to be rescued? Because I sure keep thinking I don"t need to be.

I am doing the right thing. Right?

I can't overthink this, so I draw a few balloons in the corner and a big birthday cake on the bottom along with a few hearts, using the multicolored pens that Declan brought me.

Just as I'm finishing up, he knocks lightly on the open door before walking back into the office.

"All done?"

I nod slowly, standing up and handing him the letter.

His eyes scan it quickly, and he glances back up at me.

"I didn't know you had a dog."

"Had her since I was a teenager." I had Molly all my life, a little thing who jumped all over me when I returned home from school or from being out. I do, in fact, miss her. And my father really does have a back injury, so maybe Declan won't think anything is amiss.

He smiles. "That's cute. What kind?"

"Cocker spaniel," I say. "She's an old lady now."

Declan nods, something sympathetic around the corners of his mouth. "I had my own dog, Slick. He was a puppy when I was born."

"Oh?" Guilt washes over me.

"Yeah, he died when I was a teenager," Declan says tightly. "Poison bait."

I swallow hard. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Declan shrugs. "I took care of the bastard who did it."

Fear rockets through me.

Would Declan take care of me just as easily as whoever killed his dog? As much as I'm feeling toward Declan lately, I need to remember that he's the Irish scourge, that he has a reputation for brutality.

What will he do to my father if he comes after me?

Part of me wants to lunge forward, take the note out of Declan's hand, throw it away. But then he'd be suspicious, and I'd never get another shot to get a message out.

"This all seems fine." Declan turns to the door and whistles, putting two fingers in his mouth.

The sound is so loud I wince.

One of the twins, Finn, if I remember correctly, comes to the door, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes, boss?"

"Deliver this to Niall Murphy," he says. "And be quick about it. Bring a reply if he sends one."

Finn looks down at the note, which Declan has slipped into an envelope.

He nods and leaves the room, and Declan and I are left alone.

"Is this your office?" I ask dumbly, wanting to change the subject so I can stop feeling so guilty. I have no reason to feel that way, after all. I am a prisoner here, and everything I'm doing is just to save myself.

Declan nods. "When I was sixteen, Dad gave it to me and moved his office to the end of the hall. The other one was bigger, anyway. Gray has an office downstairs."

"This house has so many rooms," I murmur, looking around the office.

There are books everywhere in the wraparound bookshelf, some of them are law books, but most of them seemed to be autobiographies and fiction—mystery and science fiction, mostly.

I walk over to the bookcase, fingering one of the more well-loved titles.

"You like to read?" Declan asks.

"Sometimes," I agree. "Mostly girl stuff."

He snorts. "And what's girl stuff? I like a good bodice ripper from time to time."

Declan walks up behind me, putting his hand over mine and dragging it to a lower shelf, and sure enough, there's a series of Victorian romances.

"You can't be serious," I mutter, taking one of them out and looking at it, mouth ajar.

It's full-on bodice ripper, like he said, too, with a huge drawn man on the cover wearing a flowy tunic and a woman with heaving bosoms in his arms.

"There's nothing like Victorian era sex," Declan says, almost as if he's defending himself. "I mean, think of all the clothes they had to remove just to do it."

I laugh, turning to look at him, and he's smiling at me. His eyes are so tender.

My heart feels like it might fall out of my stomach.

What have I done?