Page 7 of Vengeful Vows

I wet my hair, dragging my fingers through it to finger-comb it and finding knots. I had been sleeping when Declan grabbed me right out of my bed, so it’s all messed up since of course it hasn’t seen a comb or a brush since yesterday.

I get to shampooing and conditioning with clearly expensive products that I find in the bathroom. It smells like lavender and rosewater and just... clean. I don’t know a better way to describe it.

I do feel better when I step out of the shower, and the towel is big and fluffy. At some point, Lara has opened the door and hung a big, pink robe on the hook.

I put it on after drying myself and towel-drying my hair and slowly open the door, hoping against hope that they’ve left the room so that I can figure something out.

Of course, Lara is standing right there, taking my elbow with a smile and leading me to the bed.

I sit down on it, defeated, and she starts putting glue on my newly-filed nails. I’m wearing simple French tips, and that’s the style of press-ons she’s brought me.

As she does my nails, Paige grabs a dress that’s on the bed and holds it up. She hums.

“This one is a size five, but I think you’ve got more hip than me,” she muses. “And this ivory color will suit you so much more than the white Da wanted.”

“Sure.” I have no idea how else to respond. I’m trembling.

I’ve always wanted to get married. Always wanted a big, white wedding with all the trimmings. But I never imagined it would be like this. This was a childhood dream for me that has now turned into a nightmare.

“You’ll look so beautiful,” Paige gushes.

Lara, less exuberant than Paige, looks at the dress.

“Can we style it off the shoulder?”

Paige gasps. “Oh, my god. That would be perfect.”

My nails have dried, and I look down at them. They honestly could have been done by my own nail tech.

“Stand up,” Lara urges, and I do as I’m told.

Paige pushes off my robe and I stand there, fully naked, wanting to cover myself. But I don’t.

I’m going along.

Relax, I tell myself, steeling myself for what will happen next.

But nothing happens. Paige just crouches to let me step into the dress, and she’s right, it fits perfectly. She zips it up and it hugs every curve just like it should. I look down at it.

There are embroidered flowers all over it, and a slit up one side that shows the long line of my thigh.

Paige positions the straps off my shoulders, and smiles.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says, moving my wet hair out of the way. “Lara, get the blow dryer.”

Lara does as her little sister says and starts to blow dry my hair as Paige begins to put on some light makeup.

So, we’re really doing this. They’re really going to marry me off to the Irish scourge.

“Declan is mostly nice,” Paige says, and it’s the first real mention of the wedding they’ve made, just focusing on dressing me up like some doll.

“He’ll treat you well,” Lara pipes in. “We’ll make sure of it.”

“This is crazy,” I whisper, unable to hold back.

Lara shrugs. “It’s unorthodox, I’ll admit. But so much of our lives is. I think you’ll agree?”

I suppose she’s expecting some kind of answer, but I just stare at her.

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