"You've got five minutes to get ready," Clive said, his voice lazy but laced with heat. "Or I'll come in and help you dress - though I can't promise we'll make it out on time."

Paisley chucked a pillow at him.

"Get out! I need to change!" she snapped.

Clive left with a grin he tried to hide. Not long after, the butler approached him. "Sir, the bags Mrs. Hughes bought today... there's no space left in storage. Should we use one of the guest rooms for now?"

Bags?

Clive finally figured out what all that credit card swiping went toward. Ah, the good ol' healing power of handbags.

He nodded, then watched as the staff carried in luxury bag after luxury bag - each one worth tens of thousands - into a guest room.

Paisley stepped out just in time to catch sight of her precious collection being carted away.

"Hold on, keep three here. I'm taking them with me," she ordered. After all, they were heading to the Harrington family home, and Clive's three sisters-in-law were nothing if not cunning.

In her past life, she had suffered thanks to her bluntness - this time, she wasn't about to let them get the upper hand.

"You feeling the pinch yet? Emotional pain or just your wallet crying? Either way, it's your black card I used," she said, eyeing Clive and shifting into full taunt mode.

But he didn't take the bait.

"Husband makes money, wife spends it. That's how it's supposed to go," he shot back smoothly.

If Paisley was aiming to trigger him, she missed. Instead, she ended up being the one flustered by his teasing.

"What are you sitting there for? Be useful and carry those bags to the car!" she huffed, not bothering to hide her irritation.

She might play the villain today, but Clive clearly had no intention of backing out. And with the Harrington clan looming on the horizon, she had zero time to coddle his feelings.

Honestly, she should've bought more - next time she needed him to really feel it.

*****

"Sir, madam, this way please," the Harrington family butler said politely. He'd been waiting outside the ancestral home to greet them - they were newlyweds, and Clive was the current head of the family. Respect was mandatory.

It was Paisley's second time here, apart from the wedding. Clive had three older brothers, and not a single one of their wives was easy to deal with.

Paisley linked arms with Clive like the perfect newlywed couple. They looked like they were still very much in that honeymoon phase.

During dinner, Clive held up the gentleman act well - he even pulled out her chair. Honestly, Paisley had to admit, his acting was Oscar-worthy.

Still, she wasn't one to be outplayed easily. It didn't matter if the rest of the family didn't like her - if she could get on Grandpa Alfred Harrington's good side, she'd be golden.

But watching Clive so smug, she couldn't help whispering in his ear, "Wanna get scolded by Grandpa?"

She was referring to that lunch Clive had with his ex. If she decided to rat him out to Grandpa, he'd be toast.

Clive casually picked up a piece of beef for Paisley and, in a low voice only she could hear, said, "Easy now. I'll make it up to you with a limited edition bag later."

Thinking he'd finally panicked, Paisley smirked with satisfaction.

What she didn't realize was that every person at that table had their eyes on them - and from the way the two of them were leaning close and whispering, everyone just assumed this newlywed couple was totally smitten.

Clive's mom had health issues, so right after the wedding, they headed overseas for her to recuperate.

So after dinner, the men all put on a decent show - chatting and laughing their way out of the room. That left the tea-talk to be handled by the three sisters-in-law.

"Paisley, eat more meat, will you? You're way too skinny. It's not great for having babies, y'know. Grandpa's dying to hold his great-grandkid." That was Clive's eldest sister-in-law talking. She might be from a prestigious family herself, but her words? Syrupy on the surface, barbed underneath.

"Oh, come on. You can't say stuff like that. I can't afford to end up like you - totally wrecked my figure. Not everyone looks good aging like that, right? No offense." Paisley had been polite to them in her past life, figuring there was no point making waves since she hadn't planned to stay with Clive long-term.

But now? Different story. When it comes to women like these, if you don't show some teeth, they'll just see you as a pushover.

Everyone knew Clive's oldest brother had a bad habit of cycling through starlets like he was harvesting crops - nonstop.

"Oh, how things have changed. You used to be the picture of obedience and manners - your father never shut up about how well you knew your place. And now? After draining Clive's wallet to patch up your family's financial mess, you've finally wormed your way into the Harringtons. Though let's be honest, Clive's heart was never yours to begin with. But hey, with you playing house, I suppose he has to keep his little flings in check - for now."

This came from the second sister-in-law, who leaned hard on her family's backing and rarely thought before speaking. Basically, she was the kind of person you could easily throw under the bus.

She was flat-out implying Clive had feelings for someone else - and that Paisley only managed to "lock things down" because she could keep his wandering heart in check.

"Oh, you're so right," Paisley replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "As long as Clive spoils me, I'm good. Just before we got here, he even asked if I had enough spending money - and then handed over his secondary credit card."

Right now, her biggest leverage was Clive's affection, and she had zero intention of letting that go to waste.

Noticing the skeptical look on Second Sis-in-law's face, she called out casually, "Jane, bring up the gifts I prepared for them. If any of you aren't digging the ones I picked, feel free to swap them in my room. Honestly, the storage's overflowing. Some are still stacked in the guest room. Don't be shy!"

I mean, who doesn't love a good handbag?

Sure, buying one with your own money is one thing, but buying loads using your husband's card? Now that hits different.

Third sister-in-law was the sharp type, though. She kept a cool distance and didn't join the mean-girl energy.

Later, needing some air, Paisley stepped outside to the garden. All that small talk had really frayed her mood. She stared up at the pale moon for a long while, trying to settle herself.

"Out here moon-gazing, Mrs. Harrington?" Clive's voice teased gently as he strolled over. Talking to his brothers had been just as exhausting for him, by the look on his face.

"Please don't bug me. I'd like some peace." The second she saw him, the irritation flared again - especially after Second Sis-in-law had said her dad patched his debts with Clive's money. The nerve.

Not that she could say it outright.

"Grandpa says to come in for some food he had the kitchen make," Clive said, casual but sincere. Grandpa Alfred really did like Paisley a lot - enough to send Clive out to fetch her personally.

"I'll pass. I might accidentally tell Grandpa you've got a mistress on the side." Paisley's tone was deliberately sharp.

Yep, she wanted to call out Clive's sweet little first-love romance as what it really was: cheating. Let's see if he liked that.

And if things blew up over it? Even better. Perfect excuse for a clean break.

"So, you're jealous now?" Clive never played by the script she laid out.

Every little trap she thought would catch him? He dodged them all like a pro.

Jealous? So was this him basically admitting he had something going on with his precious first love? And he still refused to divorce her? Classic jerk move - textbook gaslighting.

Paisley took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. If not, she might just lose it and punch him right there.

"Clive, you rejected all my proposals before, so how about this - I'll pay back that money you patched into my dad's company. Deal?" Paisley tried to sound reasonable. "Please, just divorce me already. That way, your dear first love won't have to carry the mistress label. Makes sense, right?"

She kept bringing up his beloved first love just to slam reality in his face.

And what happened?

Clive acted like she hadn't said a single thing. He walked over slowly, grabbed her hand like they were some lovey-dovey couple, and said near her ear, "You've got one minute to fix your resting face. We're going home for soup."

Seriously?

Paisley thought he was absolutely nuts and had no interest in humoring him. She started walking off on her own.

But he didn't let go. In fact, the guy even started counting down. "Eight, seven... three, two..."

Paisley was fuming, but she didn't dare actually start a full-on fight with him. After all, she'd been locked up by him in a past life - she'd had quite enough of that. So, pissed off and puffed up, she followed him back inside for soup.

Naturally, once they were at the dining table with Grandpa Harrington, Paisley wore her best graceful-wife face. Played the part well, even called Clive out with a sweet passive-aggressive twist, and Grandpa totally laid into him. He got chewed out like crazy.

After they got back to the villa from the Harrington family estate, Clive moved his stuff into the master bedroom.

Said it was because real couples don't sleep separately. Before, he let her have the master because she insisted they had no romantic connection. Now? Not only was he moving in without asking, the man had a key and everything - just barged in with his stuff.

Paisley thought about switching rooms, but he shut that down fast and even threatened to follow her into whatever room she tried to escape to.

So now, here they were, sharing a bed. Didn't do anything, didn't talk. Paisley just straight-up ignored him.

If there was one upside to living with Clive, it was that the man could cook. The next morning, he went into the kitchen and made a full breakfast of all her favorites, then came to wake her.

"You're coming to the office with me today," Clive said like it was totally reasonable. "Didn't you tell Grandpa last night that I was messing around at work? As my wife, you better supervise me properly."

Paisley didn't move.

When he came back from the kitchen, she was still hiding under the covers, dead silent.

Clive didn't get worked up or anything. He just said, calm as ever, "Lobster omelette with parmesan's getting cold. If you're not getting up, I'll eat it all. Don't worry - I'll tell the housekeeper to toss you a sandwich later."

Lobster vs. sandwich? No contest.

Muttering bitterly under her breath, Paisley dragged herself out of bed, shot Clive a death glare, rushed to wash up, and then headed straight for the lobster omelette.

Clive, meanwhile, was kind of offended. He felt like he was actually jealous - of lobster omelette.

Apparently, in Paisley's eyes, he ranked lower than breakfast.