Perfect. “Maybe she’ll be a little more forthcoming with how Summer’s doing,” I retort, standing by the SUV door.
Moments later, a willowy brunette steps out from the rear door of the black Lincoln Town Car. Mrs. Anderson steps from around the door, thanking the driver before ascending the stairs. She doesn’t spare us a glance.
I chase after her. “Mrs. Anderson.”
She stops, her right stiletto-heeled foot landing on the step as she turns in my direction. Brown shades protect her eyes from the sun’s glare. I note that they match nicely with her cream cashmere coat.
“How can I help you, Miss Bradford,” she sighs.
I close my eyes to prevent her from seeing my eye roll. My annoyance with that dismissal is mounting.
Plastering on my customer service smile, I begin. “I-we,” I correct, pointing to Shay. “We wanted to check in on your daughter. No one’s heard from Summer in months, and we’re a bit worried.”
Mrs. Anderson returns my fake smile with a saccharine one of her own, her scarlet-painted lips tip up, exposing her white teeth. “Summer has decided that Calloway is no longer the place for her to be, and after all the death that’s occurred since your arrival, I’m inclined to agree.”
Is she trying to say this is my fault?
“What are you implying?” I challenge, arching a brow.
Pulling the belt of her coat tighter, and stepping up so that she’s now towering above me, Mrs. Anderson replies, “Simply, that since you and your family wormed your way into our town, there’s been nothing but chaos.” The accusation is made more evident by the sneer on her face.
“Funny, I always thought it was the fucked up rules this town was founded on that caused this. Considering they’re the ones that initiated it all,” I seethe. Because fuck her and this bullshit town for always trying to pin all this on me.
Mrs. Anderson’s lips thin, and she’s about to speak when Shay interjects, saving this woman from my wrath. “Listen, we understand this whole process has been taxing. No one blames Summer for not wanting to participate. We just want to be sure that she’s safe and nothing’s happened to her.”
“Summer is finishing her senior year at a private school abroad,” Mrs. Anderson says dismissively, turning and walking up the remaining steps.
“You’d think she was hiding something,” I mumble, loud enough so only Shay can hear.
She elbows me before following behind Summer’s mom. “And we wish her the best. Can you confirm the last time you spoke with her, please? I promise this is the last of our questions, and then we won’t bother you again,” Shay says, adding the last part and tipping her head in a far more welcoming smile than my earlier one.
I swear I need more lessons from Shay.
She’s playing Summer’s mom like Paganini’s Caprices.
Mrs. Anderson waves her hands in dramatic fashion and turns, sighing as she pulls her phone from her Celine bag. Her fingers work the screen, then stalks over to us before turning her phone and showing us her call log. “Are you happy now? I spoke with her about an hour ago.” She gives us enough time to see the call log and the duration of the call before yanking her hand back and shoving her phone into her coat pocket. “Now, if you two could be on your way. I have better things to do with my time than entertain either of you.”
She’s turned around and slamming her front door closed before Shay and I are even back to the car.
“Now, you can stop worrying,” Shay murmurs, climbing in the backseat.
We both buckle up before I say anything. “It’s still weird that she’d just up and leave and then stop talking to her friends.”
Shay meets my eyes, “Were they really her friends, though?”
Rubbing at my temples, I acquiesce, “No. I don’t suppose they were.”
“I say she’s better off,” she replies.
Nodding, I huff, “Leaving Sam is always a great option.”
We sit back, both silent on the drive to my house. Shay’s texting on her phone, and I’m guessing she’s talking to Brendan, by the smile on her face.
I, on the other hand, am lost in my thoughts. Even though I’ve seen the pictures and her parents have both confirmed she’s alive and well, I still can’t shake the feeling in my gut that there’s more to Summer’s disappearance.
“Don’t you have a date to get ready for?” Shay’s question distracts me from all thoughts of Summer. I can feel my face flush.
I have a date with Sebastian.
SEBASTIAN
“Why didn’t you leave after finishing at LWU?” Emma asks from across the dining room table.
The candlelight highlights the soft glow of her makeup. She looks radiant, and for the umpteenth time this evening, I question my acceptance to have our date here in such an intimate setting.
I know we all agreed to keep our dates with her in as controlled of an environment as possible, but nowhere in my agreement did it dictate what the date should consist of.
I chose this setup. It’s why the deep silver eyes of a girl whose very presence threatens my control stare at me from across the table.
My eyes flit across the room filled with candles and fresh bouquets before taking in the table, I had my staff set for an intimate dinner for two, and my chef prepared shrimp scampi with asparagus tips and a chocolate souffl?.
Emma’s eyebrow arches, reminding me I have yet to answer her question once my focus returns to her.
“I always knew I would be coming back home. The Selection just sped up my timeline,” I finally say.
She nods, grabbing her glass of sparkling wine, and I smile. Each time she sips, I watch her cute nose scrunches from the bubbles. Then, I watch as she swirls the angel hair pasta onto her fork and places it into her fucking delectable mouth.
The sound she makes has me clear my throat and try to shift my focus.”What made you go along with the Selection process without putting up so much of a fight?” It’s something I’ve been wondering since we found out she was August’s choice. Emma doesn’t strike me as the type of person to fall in line.
She finishes chewing, grabbing another sip of her drink before she answers, “It’s simple, really. My siblings. My parents weren’t around, and I needed to take care of them.” She stares me straight in the eyes before she says the next part- all softness and light leaving her features. “When your back is against the wall, you’ll do whatever it takes to survive. Even playing in the weirdo version of pick your bride.”
“We’re pawns in this game of chess,” I reply.
She snorts, “You only remain a pawn when you refuse to fight your way across the board and become a queen.”
That answer piques my interest.
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.