My cheeks puff as I huff out in exasperation- more answers, but always even more questions.
Leveling him with a glare, I try a different approach. “So, you’re telling me you had to do this too, and with Elise?”
“It was a bit different. We didn’t have to choose one wife to share between us. We each were able to make our choice. It wasn’t anything like what you’re going through now.”
I observe him, trying to gauge how my next question will be received.
“I know you’ve told me some of how you and that woman met.” My stomach still roils whenever I think of my mom and how she was never who I thought she was. “But tell me again,” I implore.
He stares as if he’s replaying how they met in his head, his gaze almost wistful before he finally looks at me and answers. “She should’ve never been on my radar,” he snorts. “You know that? Your mother-Elise,” he quickly corrects when he sees my nostrils flare. “She was the help’s daughter. She was never supposed to be eligible, but I fell for her so hard.”
I remember this part. My supposed grandparents worked for his family, the Bishops, who until now I thought were dead. I have so many questions. I want them all answered immediately, but I know he won’t because of some stupid grand plan.
“She was different. I fell hard and fast. Elise was the center of my world until she wasn’t,” he grits out, his teeth clenched so hard the sharp muscles of his jaw flex, and I think he’ll pull something. “Elise was a plant, and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around how the woman who owned my heart could so easily drive a dagger through it.”
Me too, Dad. Me too. I hurt for him. His pain is far different but similar to mine. He chose her. We had no choice in the matter. The betrayal hits differently but just as profoundly.
I see the uptick in his heart rate on the monitor. I know my quest for answers is coming to an end, so I try to see if I can push for more before time runs out. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”
He looks around before responding, “It was, and still is, for the best that you don’t know all of what’s to come. This can’t seem forced, or it won’t work.” He squeezes my hand and continues, “But this isn’t something we should discuss any further here.”
I nod in agreement. He’s right. Damn this town, and fuck all of these secrets.
Frustrated that I, once again, am in the dark and that it, once again, all surrounds my arrival to this town, I try to move to a different topic I think he’ll answer. “What is going to happen during this Selection process?”
“Donald will explain all the finer details. Just make sure you follow all of the rules, Emma. This part is important. You must follow all of the rules,” he reiterates, emphasizing the ‘all of the rules,’ part.
“Donald?” My eyes narrow in confusion.
“Mr. Calloway.”
Huh, I didn’t know that was his name. He looks more like a Chad or Preston to me. He does always seem to be quacking like a duck.
I guess it’s fitting.
Recognizing that he won’t give me anything else, I move to a safer subject. “When are you officially out of here?”
He smiles, sensing the obvious change in subject. “Next Friday. Now go on up to the meeting. I’m sure you’re just itching to find out all that comes with being the potential Calloway heirs’ wife.”
Slanting my eyes, I scowl in his direction. “I think they’ve got you on the good stuff because you have to be high out of your mind to think that.”
He chuckles and grunts, still sore from being shot. I know he’s trying to make light of the situation, but I’m still pissed at the whole damn process.
* * *
I step into Mr. Calloway’s office. It’s warmer than I imagined it would be. With his prickly personality, I expected sharp edges and uncomfortable furniture. Instead, there are brown leather sofas, colorful paintings, and pictures of Rowan, a woman I assume is Rowan’s mom, and Mr. Calloway.
I itch to take a closer look at a younger looking Rowan. He’s in a hunter-green Chaps cable-knit sweater, standing in front of what looks to be a log cabin of some sort at a ski resort. A bright smile plasters his face. He appears to be about six or seven because he’s missing teeth in the photo.
Who knew the big grouchy ass could smile.
Turning from the image, I make my way over to the table, taking in the group of men. Outside Mr. Calloway, I only recognize one of them, Mr. Grant-Alex. I keep forgetting he prefers Alex.
“Emma dear, I’m so pleased to have you back and safe.” His smile reaches his eyes, warm and genuine, and I wonder for a moment how someone so even-keeled has a son like August.
Returning his smile with one of my own, I reply, “I’m thrilled to be back.” I cut my answer short as Sam’s scowl beats into the side of my face.
Why does she always look constipated?
I wonder if I should secretly gift her Miralax or something. And because my pettiness is still rearing its ugly head, I smirk and give her a knowing wave. The frown on her face looks like it’s deepening, but between her nose brace and botox, I can’t freaking tell.
The deep voice of Mr. Calloway fills the room, pulling my attention away from Sam’s bared teeth. “Ladies. Thank you for joining us this evening. Before you, you’ll see a folder outlining the entire Selection process and what is expected of you. Please turn to page one where the preliminary list of rules is located. This is where we will begin.”
I scan the rules, and like the meeting with the lawyers, my head begins to pound and my palms start to sweat.
Each Selected must go on at least two dates with each heir
The Selected are required to wear their pins at all times
The Selected are required to receive a birth control implant
The Selected are required to plan and attend two societal events, one of which must be the engagement ceremony, and three fundraisers
The Selected must maintain a 3.5 GPA or higher
The Selected is required to attend Lincoln-Wood University
The Selected may not date anyone but the five original bloodline heirs
That’s cold blooded, having us all plan and attend an engagement party that only one of us will be the one proposed to. Yikes, talk about awkward.
He reads each rule out loud, and as they pass his lips, it feels like a collar tightening around my neck, and not the type that makes my pulse race.
If I’m being honest, some rules aren’t truly an issue. It’s that the choice has been snatched from me in a modern-style bridal hunt. I want to shout and ask why I have to participate since I’m supposedly an original bloodline, but I feel like I’ve already pieced the answer together.
I have a vagina, and of course, that will not do in this males only fucked up boys’ club.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.