Page 7

“I’m glad to hear it. Sleep, sweet sister, and when you wake we’ll be home.”
Home. Such a horribly permanent-seeming word, and I shiver a bit at the sound of it.
“Kerry, would you bring us a blanket, please? My little one seems to be a bit chilled.”
I’m not, but I must be more broken than I ever realized because something inside me softens as he tucks the blanket around us and presses another kiss to my forehead. The gesture is surprisingly sweet, almost loving.
But no. Men don’t gag and beat the women they love, and it’s important for me to remember that.
Still, Iamexhausted from my ordeal, and I’ll need my strength if I’m going to figure out how the hell to get myself out of this mess. So I do as he suggested and let sleep overtake me. And in my dreams, I am a real princess, running through the halls of my castle with a wolf nipping at my heels.
And even in my dreams, there is no escape.
Juliet
“Rise and shine, princess.”
Groaning at my brother’s far-too-cheerful voice, I roll over, yanking my blanket over my head to block out him and the sunlight streaming through the window. What the hell is Jasper doing in my bedroom anyway? Shouldn’t he be out conquering the real estate world?
Quiet laughter reaches me through the blanket, followed by the sound of something I can’t quite identify. A clicking noise I’ve never heard before. “You slept straight through the night, little girl. Time to get up and face the day.”
Little girl. The words tickle some memory in the back of my mind, but I can’t seem to access it through the fog of exhaustion clouding my brain. “Go ‘way,” I grumble instead, pulling the covers more tightly over my head.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, princess.”
Little girl. Princess.
Daddy.
Throwing off the covers, I scramble backward, pressing my back against the wall, barely noticing the hard lines that dig into my flesh as I glare at my brother. “Get thefuckaway from me, Jasper!”
One dark brow lifts toward his hairline in a look that should be stern. But that effect is ruined by the twitching of his lips. “Didn’t we discuss your language last night, little girl?”
“I don’t care what we ‘discussed’. I am not letting you touch me again. I demand that you take me home immediately.”
“You are home.”
I roll my eyes, even as my stomach twists at his words. “You know what I mean. Back to New York.”
“No.”
It shouldn’t be a shock. As the events of last night come rushing back, I’m reminded there is obviously something very wrong with my stepbrother.
And yet, I can only stare at him, my mouth slightly open in response to his simple denial. “What the fuck do you mean,no?”
“No, I am not taking you back to New York. You asked for my help, and you are getting it. On my terms. Now, are you going to get out of the crib like a big girl or do I have to get you out?”
Crib?The word freezes me in place and for the first time, I really take in my surroundings.
Like the soft pink of the sheets beneath me, with the playful teddy bears frolicking across the fabric. And the wooden slats to my left and right.
The feel of those same wooden slats pressing into my back.
Heart pounding, I let my gaze travel the room with its pretty pale-yellow walls, decorated with watercolor paintings of various zoo animals. There’s what looks to be a rocking horse in one corner, though it’s way too large for a toddler. Dark furniture provides a gorgeous contrast to the pale walls, and for a moment I’m charmed by the room.
Until I remember thatI’min this room. Sleeping in a fucking crib. After my stepbrother basically kidnapped me and beat me into submission the night before.
Charming, my ass.