Page 22 of Vengeful Vows

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.

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