6. Bree

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I slowly wakeup to someone bouncing gently on the bed, and when I look up, it's the dark-haired sister, Paige, grinning at me.

I jump and flinch, and then it all comes rushing back.

Oh. Right. I'm married to a fucking Burke, and his sister is here basically jumping on my bed like a little kid. Because they're all crazy.

Maybe I'm crazy too, given what I did last night.

"It's almost ten o'clock," Paige says in a whining voice. "It's time to get up. Marisol has made breakfast."

She stands and then looks down at the ruins of my dress on the ground.

"Oops," she says, wrinkling her nose. "Looks like I need to grab you some new clothes."

She disappears, and for a moment, I hope she won't come back and snuggle back under the covers. But of course, she's back in thirty seconds flat, throwing a huge amount of clothes on my bed.

"Take your pick!" she says, and then just stands there.

I squint up at her.

Her eyes widen. "Oh! I'm sorry. You must want some privacy. I'll be right outside."

Of course you will.

There's no mistaking that I'm still a prisoner, even if Paige is bright and bubbly.

She closes the door, and I stand up, stretching and yawning.

I go to the shower, realizing that all of these rooms must have a suite, or at least most of them.

Only this one is a bit bigger, and there are no hushed voices coming from the door at least.

I take a luxurious, long shower, putting my hair up. The smell of sex needs to be washed off, but my hair doesn't need the dryness that comes from washing it so often.

When I step out of the shower, I go into the bedroom and rifle through the clothes, picking through them to find something comfortable—a pair of high-waisted, white shorts and a comfy T-shirt with a graphic of the sun on it.

Paige is about my size, although the shorts stretch a little tightly over my ass. The clothes are high-quality, maybe better than what I have at home, so I can't complain there.

Paige and Lara have been kind to me, and it's not like anyone did anything to physically harm me so far, but I'm still on edge. I don't know what to expect next from the Burkes.

Taking a deep breath before sliding the door open, I hope that Paige has given up so maybe I can jump out a window or something.

But when it slides all the way through, she's leaned against the wall, looking at me, and I hold back the groan that wants to be set free.

"Breakfast will be cold," she says in a scolding tone, and starts down the stairs, clearly expecting me to follow.

And I do. As we go, I look around and try and get my bearings a bit more. When we get to the stairs, they are much longer than the ones at my father's mansion.

"I put a plate in the microwave for you," Lara says, sitting at the table as we enter the dining room.

"Thank you," I mutter, and sit down at the table, taking a small bite of a blueberry muffin. Sugar and tartness bloom in my mouth, and I almost want to moan. They really do have a great chef.

"I can't wait to show you the rest of the house," Paige says in a bubbly tone.

"She's probably tired," Lara pipes up. "Don't push her too hard."

"I'm not pushing," Paige pouts, looking at me. "Tell her I'm not pushy."

I can't help but let out a small laugh. I think, in another situation, I would have liked Paige and Lara. They have such opposite personalities, with Lara quieter and statelier and Paige so bubbly and sweet.

"Did you guys fight a lot as kids?" I ask.

Lara snorts. "Yeah, all the time."

"I'm not surprised," I mumble.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Paige says, still pouting, and Lara and I share a laugh.

I feel slightly lighter, my shoulders relaxing a bit, but I'm still on guard as we eat. I won't let their kindness sway me. They're still daughters of the enemy, and sisters to my forced husband.

If my goal is to get out of here, maybe they are the way to do it, but I can't risk getting attached or thinking at any time that I can trust them.

I'm on my own here, regardless of however well they might treat me, and I'll do well to remember that.

When we finish with breakfast, Paige leads me around the bottom part of the house. I look around, eyes wide and mouth ajar, at all the modern but comfortable-looking furniture, but then I see the ratty recliner with the peeling leather.

I pause, frowning. "What...is that?"

"Oh, God, that monstrosity." Lara groans. "That's our father's special chair."

"He keeps it because of Ma," Paige says.

I raise an eyebrow.

"He says that he and our mother used to sleep together in it when they lived with her parents back in Dublin," Lara explains. "He won't have a single thing about it changed."

I find myself feeling a little bad for Patrick. I know that his wife died in an accident, but he clearly isn't over it. How does someone get over a thing like that, though?

It doesn't matter. He's still the one trying to kill my father, destroy my family. Just because he misses his wife doesn't mean he's the good guy in this story. I mean, he had me kidnapped and married me to his son.

Lara leads me out to the terrace, and there's a beautiful garden all around it. Roses, lavender, honeysuckle, all the scents mix in the air and float by me on the breeze.

Looking all around me, I can't help the sense of peace that falls over me. "It's beautiful."

"All Ma," Lara explains with a wide smile. "But we keep it up. I do most of the gardening myself. Just don't trust anyone else to keep Ma's flowers alive."

Again, a pang of sympathy hist me, and I push it away.

The Burkes are the bad guys. They're evil and crazy, and I shouldn't like them.

We go past a small office, but neither of the girls makes much mention of it, so I assume it's one of Patrick's. Upstairs, they lead me past the area where Declan and I stayed and into the left wing.

"You'll have to pick out a suite." Paige grins. She is almost skipping as she goes.

"What, why?"

Lara nods. "Yeah, Declan's room is too small, and all the other rooms are technically guest rooms, so they're not all suites. You'll want a bigger space as a couple."

I want to argue, but I don't think it would do me any good. The Stepford sisters don't seem to have any clue what's going on. They act as if I chose this, as if I'm really their sister-in-law instead of a prisoner. As if Declan and I are a happily married couple and all of this is just normal.

I slowly trail into each of the suites. They are like little apartments.

The one I choose has a small kitchenette, a sitting room, the bedroom, a huge bathroom with a big clawfoot tub, and a huge walk-in closet like the one in Paige's room.

"It's perfect," Paige says.

It's beautiful.

But I don't say it. If I'd actually gotten to choose my husband, actually chosen for love instead of being forced, I'd probably be the happiest ever thinking I found my perfect home.

"And of course, we'll send the stylist right up," Lara says. "We'll let you get settled."

"What do you mean, the stylist?" My eyes widen.

"What do you think I mean? You'll need a whole new wardrobe," Paige says. "You can't keep wearing my hand-me-downs." She looks me up and down. "Besides, you'll have to get your measurements done, you have a lot more junk in the trunk than I do." She giggles, and I can't help but smile.

"Yeah, we're a little jealous," Lara admits. "We wish we could get a new wardrobe without Da freaking out about how much we spend."

"Thirty thousand a month isn't that bad, I keep telling him," Paige says.

Thirty thousand dollars? A month?

My breath catches in my throat, and I almost choke on air. I know that I probably spend a good deal, but thirty thousand? The Burkes are crazy but also loaded, it turns out.

"Melissa will be right up," Lara says, and she and Paige leave me in the suite to get settled.

I'm not sure what to do, especially since I don't have any of my things and am not likely to be able to get them, so I just sit on the bed, bouncing slightly.

The thread count on these sheets must be insane. Everything in this house is insane, including the people. But Lara and Paige are at least good crazy, and they make me feel a little less alone.

Instead of knocking on the door, a woman I assume is Melissa bursts right in, wheeling a huge clothes rack behind her. I have no idea how she got it up the stairs.

"Girly!" she says, with a heavy Slavic accent. "It's time to get you all dressed up."

She pulls a measuring tape out of her purse and quickly starts to take my measurements as I stand there, gaping at her.

"Ooh, you have Marilyn Monroe waist," she praises, and I laugh a little.

"Maybe Marilyn with a few extra pounds," I argue.

"You look wonderful, girly. Aunt Melissa will take good care of you, don't you worry."

She's probably about forty years old, but she looks amazing, long, white-blonde hair, baby blue eyes. Maybe she's had some work done or maybe she's younger than I think, but either way, she looks great.

She flips through the clothes. "Pick out ten outfits." She tilts her head toward the rack. "At least for the week. I'll come back and bring more, but I don't think I have more than ten that will suit your figure."

Ten? For a week?

"What about pajamas," I ask meekly. "I really like pajamas."

She scoffs. "Pajamas, I have," she says, opening up a drawer at the bottom of the rack and revealing short and tank-top sets, lingerie, all manner of underwear and bras.

I pick out several items, throwing them on the bed, and eventually, with Melissa's help, I pick out ten outfits.

She snatches the last one back from me. "No white," she says, and I huff out a breath.

"What is wrong with me wearing white?"

"You don't have the complexion for it, girly. Yellow. You'd look good in yellow." She hands me a dress in yellow, and I have to admit, it looks better.

Melissa abruptly leaves after I pick things out, muttering about tailoring some new clothes for me, and I blink as she closes the door.

I feel like I'm in one of those princess movies, where an ordinary girl finds out she's royalty, but this time the princess is kidnapped, and all of this is against her will.

I slowly start to put up the clothes and change into a pair of tight shorts and a gray tank top, not wanting to continue wearing Paige's clothes.

After getting everything squared away, I look around at the cream-and-gold-colored walls.

It's pretty, the best suite that I've been shown, and I like the furniture. It seems more comfortable than modern, which I enjoy.

I walk to the right wing to Paige's room and knock softly on her door.

She opens it immediately, having changed into a bright blue cocktail dress, and she grins at me.

"Oh, you look...comfortable," she says, and it doesn't even seem like a slight.

I smile. "Just wanted to return your clothes. I don't know where the laundry is."

"We send it out, of course."

"Of course." We do, too, but I still wash some of my own delicates just so I won't have to wait for them.

Apparently, Paige doesn't do that. Doesn't seem like the girls lift a finger around here, which is a little enviable.

I help my father with the books and take phone calls for him sometimes. Of course, he doesn't tell me anything. There's no information I have that could implicate him, and I can't help thinking that's on purpose.

"I know this is hard on you," Paige says softly, and I look up at her, shocked.

"You do?"

She nods. "I can imagine how I would feel if Da did this to me. But Declan really is a good guy, deep down. He'll treat you right."

"Don't you understand why that doesn't matter?" I can't stop myself from being honest.

She shrugs. "I don't know. It's not so bad, is it? You have built-in sisters, and Gray is kind of a drag, but he's a good big brother."

I remember Gray's slate blue eyes, glaring into me when he told me in no uncertain terms that I had no choice in any of this.

"I'm sure," I drawl, but she seems to take it in stride.

"Finding love is hard." She sighs. "Maybe it's better if it's been chosen for us."

"Maybe, but wouldn't you at least want to make that choice for yourself? To choose to try and find it or ask to have it chosen for you?" I sigh. "You know what. Never mind. It's done, so let's just move on from this."

It's not that I disagree with Paige. I've had my bad experiences with men, and I know how hard it is to want love and a family and have that constantly out of your reach.

I've always wanted someone to come home to, someone to confide in, someone to just hold me when the world is falling apart.

Now, I'll never know that. I'll never have the chance to find my person. I'll never be truly free to choose love. Because along with my freedom, I've been deprived of a happy, loving future when my husband was chosen for me. A husband I only know from his less than stellar reputation. A husband I know nothing about. A husband who is my family's sworn enemy.

But Paige doesn't seem to get that.

"I should go. Think I'm going to take a nap."

She touches my hand. "It's been an ordeal, but it will be okay, you'll see."

I nod because I'm tired and I don't want to talk anymore. Making my way back to my new home, the suite, I crawl under the covers.

I try my best but sleep eludes me.

All I can think about is last night, how urgent and rough the sex was.. I groan, flipping over on the bed, my skin feeling hot.

Maybe I need another shower. A cold one. Otherwise, it might sound like a good idea to do it again even if just to pass the time more quickly until someone comes for me.