Page 2 of Hero's Heart

Sloane nodded. “I gave them to Nathan. He’ll?—”

“You gave them to Nathan?” Marissa interrupted, her voice rising an octave. “I told you to take them straight to my room. How hard is it to follow basic instructions?”

Her half sister was a year younger than Sloane and looked so much like her they could’ve passed for twins. Had, in fact, on occasion.Not that any of them would ever claim Sloane as a blood relation, despite the fact that their genes fairly screamed it.

“I was carrying fifty pounds of the other stuff youneeded,” Sloane shot back before she could stop herself, her patience wearing thin. “Forgive me for not personally delivering your gowns on a silver platter.”

Clarice’s icy voice cut in before Marissa could reply. “Watch your tone, Sloane. If you can’t handle simple tasks, perhaps we need to revisit your…position here.”

Sloane’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. Herposition. They loved to remind her of her place, as if she didn’t already feel the weight of it every single day.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” she said quietly, scooting in her chair.

“You’re not eating yet,” William barked, his gaze finally snapping to hers. He didn’t hide the irritation in his tone.

Actually, Sloane was surprised he said anything at all. More and more in the past year, William had been silent and agitated during meals, often excusing himself for angry phone calls or not even showing up for dinner.

William turned to Marissa. “Have you given Sloane your list of needs for Paris yet?”

Sloane’s head jerked up. “Paris?”

“Next week. My graduation trip.” Marissa said, her lips curling into a smug smile.

Marissa was still at least four more classes from graduating college with her communication degree. She’d grown bored of the whole process ofdoing actual work, so Sloane doubted she’d finish at all. As a matter of fact, if Sloane had money to bet, she’d place it on the fact that Marissa had only gone to college at all to rub in Sloane’s face that she wanted to go but couldn’t.

An art history degree wasn’t in Sloane’s future.

She knew better than to point out any of that. “I hope you’ll have a good time.”

Her heart twisted with a mix of longing and bitterness. Paris—the city of light, art, and romance. She’d dreamed of going there ever since she was a little girl, poring over her mother’s collection of travel and art books.

“You’re going too,” William added, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

For a moment, hope flared in Sloane’s chest. But it was extinguished almost as quickly as it came.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Clarice said, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin. “You’ll be there to assist Marissa.Carry her bags, fetch her coffee, make sure she’s on schedule. That sort of thing.”

Pretend to be her if she gets into trouble and take all the blame for it.

Nobody said it, but they all knew it was the case. It had been Sloane’s role more than once.

“Exactly,” Marissa chimed in, her smile widening. “Think of it as a working vacation. For me, at least.”

“Understood,” she murmured, staring down at her food. She forced herself to eat it, even though it was barely a step above gruel—plain chicken breast and rice.

She had no idea why William and Clarice insisted the cook prepare Sloane a different meal from what they ate. Obviously, they did it to reinforce Sloane’s status in the household, and they made Sloane pay for the ingredients. But it was probably costing them more to have the staff prepare entirely separate, if tasteless, meals for her.

Pettywas more than just a word rhyming with the family name around here.

“Good,” William said, turning his attention back to his meal. “Make sure she’s prepared, Clarice. I won’t have her embarrassing us. And you two are to stay together at all times.”

Marissa leaned forward, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Oh, and Sloane? While we’re there, you’ll need to steam my outfits every morning. I can’t be seen with wrinkles.”

“Of course,” Sloane said tightly.

“And polish my shoes,” Marissa added. “I have a new pair of Louboutins. You can’t let the soles get scuffed.”

Clarice nodded approvingly. “It’s about time you learned how to be useful, Sloane. Organization has never been your strong suit.”

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