The Billionaire's Unconventional Brides.

CHAPTER 5

Sydney.

Cara and I followed Clinton down the long, echoing hallways of the huge mansion. The butler walked with a dignified air, pointing out important locations as we passed them.

"This," Clinton said, gesturing to a large wooden door, "is the library. Mr. Ferdinand has an extensive collection should you ever need it."

I looked in curiously as we passed, noticing the high shelves of books lining the walls. Down the hall further, Clinton stopped in front of another door. "The kitchen is in here. If you want refreshments at any other time than mealtimes, you can ask for them.

Finally, Clinton halted at another corridor leading to a quieter wing of the house. "This wing has been prepared for your arrivals. These are your rooms." He gestured to two doors across from each other.

We looked down the hall and I pointed to a third door at the end. "And who does that belong to?" I asked the question I was sure Cara had in mind.

Clinton followed my gaze. "That would be Mr. Ferdinand's room."

My lips thinned, and Cara shifted uncomfortably beside me.

"Well," Clinton continued smoothly, "you may freshen up and rest. Dinner will be served in a few hours." With that, he gave a short bow and disappeared back down the hallway.

Once he had disappeared, I entered Cara’s room, pushing the door open. My critical eyes scanned the room. It was a soft, airy room in lilac, plush carpeting, and elegant silver. The bed was huge, clothed in silky sheets in hues of lavender. A chaise lounge in the same shade was positioned beside the high window. Delicate artwork lined the walls.

“Lilac," I muttered, turning to Cara. "Your favorite color."

Cara nodded, the tiniest of smiles tugging at her lips as she went inside and sat down on the edge of the bed. I followed her and we flopped onto the mattress, lying side by side, staring at the ceiling like always.

“This feels so weird," She whispered after a moment. "I don't know what to do. What are we supposed to do?"

I let out a sigh. "I literally have no f*****g idea." We giggled.

We lay in silence for a while, each lost in thought, until I finally spoke. "We should shower and get out of these dresses. They're uncomfortable as fuck.”

Cara nodded, sitting up. I stood and helped her unfasten the back of her dress then she did the same for me before leaving for my own room.

My own room was a mirror of Cara’s with shades of cream and brown. I huffed at the fact that he knew our colour palettes so well. I entered the en suite bathroom and turned the shower on. Then, my eyes fell on the large jacuzzi tub. After a little deliberation, I decided to prepare a bath. I poured in lavender-scented bath oil and let the tub fill with warm water. I got in once it was ready and let the water wrap itself around me. I shut my eyes and let out a satisfied sigh, soaking what felt like forever, trying to wash off the tension and unease.

Once my fingers pruned, I stepped out and wrapped myself up with a soft robe and back into Cara’s room.

Cara was already on the bed, fast asleep in her pajamas, her hair damp from her own shower. I quietly dressed in comfortable nightwear, climbed into the bed beside her and soon drifted off to sleep.

---

We were startled awake by a knock at the door. Clinton's calm voice filtered through. "Dinner will be served in fifteen minutes, ladies."

I groaned and rolled over. "Dinner, dammit," I muttered, rubbing my eyes. "Guess we can't skip it, thanks to his stupid rule."

Cara sighed and sat up. "Might as well get it over with."

We dressed separately and met in the hallway. Without a word, we followed Clinton to the dining room.

The room was elegant but not too formal. A medium-sized rectangular table sat in the center, adorned with a simple runner and a vase of fresh flowers. Large windows were veiled with heavy drapes, making the room cozy despite its size.

Pierce was already seated at the head of the table, an iPad in front of him as he worked. He didn't look up as we entered and took our seats.

I rolled my eyes at the lack of acknowledgment, but Cara nudged me under the table, silently warning me to behave.

When the food was served—steaming plates of roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables—Pierce finally set his iPad aside and began eating. The silence was thick and awkward, broken only by the clinking of cutlery.

I couldn’t take it any longer. “So,” I said, my voice cutting through the quiet, “why weren’t you ever married, Mr. Ferdinand?”

Pierce's eyes rose to mine, his mask unreadable. "It never felt right to me," he said coolly.

I snorted. "Right. But marrying two sisters at once? That felt just fine?"

Pierce's lips twitched into a faint smirk of his own. "It's pragmatic. You know what's at stake, Sydney. But if you'd prefer I annul the arrangement-“

“Oh, don’t act like you’re doing us a favor,” I snapped, cutting him off. “This isn’t exactly a dream situation for us either.”

Pierce leaned back in his chair, his tone calm but laced with a deadly edge that gave me the impression that he wouldn't tolerate my antagonism for much longer. “I didn’t force either of you to sign. Let’s not pretend you didn’t have a choice.”

My fists had clenched under the table, my face flushing with anger. The tension in the room rose to higher levels. I was just about to mess things up already, regardless of the fact that we signed a binding contract with this asshole.

Cara cleared her throat to break the tension. "Mr. Ferdinand," She began hesitantly, "what exactly is it that you do? Your work, I mean."

Pierce held my furious eyes a little while longer before he turned to her, the hardness of his eyes easing a little. "I majorly deal in cutting-edge technology, but I also manage several businesses and investments. Technology, real estate, logistics-you name it." He sounded curt, almost dismissive of what he had to say.

Cara nodded, obviously trying to keep the conversation going. "That must keep you very busy."

"It does," Pierce said, turning back to his food.

The rest of dinner continued in strained silence, except for an odd comment now and then, which seemed to forcibly break into the void.

When the meal came to an end, Cara stood first and muttered a hasty "Goodnight," and practically fled the room like she couldn’t stay a minute longer. As I watched her leave, I couldn't help but wonder how they were supposed to tolerate an entire year of this tense, bizarre arrangement.

The thought sparked my anger anew and I turned to Pierce, ready to start another roun

d of bickering just as Cara turned the corner.