“We’ve discovered that the person the Senator has been meeting with is a woman. We’re working on identifying her now,” Rowan starts.
Liam continues, “We still haven’t been able to gain access to any real information. No one has logged into the account that paid for the attempted abduction of Emma Bishop.”
Mr. Calloway’s jaw flexes, a sign of his displeasure with our lack of new developments. “You have a month. If you don’t bring us something by then, none of you will like the outcome,” he declares.
My dad takes the opportunity to move us along, “You’ve all made your choices. You will make your selections official on Saturday,” he begins, standing from behind the table and retrieving an aluminum briefcase. Snapping it open, he retrieves what we’ve been called here for. “Once you’ve made your selection announcement to the town and have pinned your potential bride, all dalliances will cease,” he says, staring Rowan and Seb in the eye.
Sebastian, never one for decorum, shrugs and says, “Fine, Taylor was getting boring to torture anyway.”
I choke back my laugh. Miss Taylor will be hell to handle now that she’s being cut off.
“Sebastian, you’ll take this seriously. We’re under fucking attack. You’re the oldest of the heirs, fucking act like it,” my uncle shouts from his end of the table.
I pinch him, urging him not to argue. The faster they talk us through this, the quicker I can go and see Riri.
My dad interjects, “Sebastian, you’ll finish up your last week as a counselor at the school and then return to your responsibilities.”
Sebastian nods, opting to keep any further comments to himself.
“Now, you’re all expected to begin the courtship process with each girl and decide on your final pick at the end of the school year. You must all agree on the same girl.”
Rowan’s dad interrupts him this time, “This part is important, don’t fuck it up.” Clearing his throat, a vein protrudes from my dad’s forehead, signaling his waning patience. He restates, “You must all agree on the same girl. Failing this task is not an option. There’s too much at stake, and too many futures hang in the balance. So, whatever reservations any of you have don’t matter. You’ll do what you’ve sworn to do or mete out the consequences. Is that understood?”
We all concur, our agreement instant.
“Good, you’re dismissed,” my dad says. We begin to depart when his voice stops me, “August, we’re going to need you to stay a moment longer.”
The guys give me varying looks of concern as they exit and I wait to be addressed.
Liam’s dad says, “August, we wanted to make sure you understand the importance of getting all the boys to choose Emma Bishop.”
Blinking, I shake my head, trying to clear it, unsure if I heard them correctly, “Did you just say you want them to pick Ri- I mean Emma?”
“Yes,” is the only response I get back from Liam’s father.
Hoping for clarity, I ask, “Can I get more details as to why?” I quickly followed up my question, “Not that I’m complaining.”
“No,” comes from the council, in unison, sounding like a choir.
I’m not surprised to receive a directive with no apparent reason for why it has to be done. It’s the council’s favorite way of operating. Something that will change under our leadership. However, I had every intention of making Riri the final pick. They’d have to kill me to say otherwise.
“Understood,” is all I say in response, not wanting to give away my genuine elation with the task I’ve been given.
If the guys thought I was bad before, they haven’t seen anything yet.
Understanding that I’ve been dismissed, I turn and head for the exit, greeted by four inquisitive faces as I cross the threshold.
“What did they want?” Rowan asks.
“Not much. Just making sure I understand what’s expected of me,” I share, continuing to walk for the door, not stopping for further discussion.
I need to see my girl. I hear feet behind me, and I know without looking who it is, “Ready?”
Karl nods, and like men possessed, we seek out our salvation.
EMMA
I stare at myself in the mirror, not believing it’s truly me. I mean, it’s my face but not really my face. There’s this level of sophistication to my makeup. It’s so natural, enhancing the height of my cheekbones, the olive of my skin. The light, smokey eye brings out the silver in my gray eyes.
My gaze travels down the black floor-length Oscar de la Renta floral embroidered with velvet guipure lace gown. Its modest plunging scoop neckline and long sleeves kiss my skin subtly, accentuating my figure without being too revealing. When I saw this dress, I instantly fell in love. I told the stylist I wouldn’t look at another dress. She paired it with a black Margaux crystal ruche leather clutch, a Robert Demeglio eighteen karat rose gold and champagne diamond matte ceramic bracelet, and a pair of black Jimmy Choo Saeda crystal strapped heels.
My reflection has me mumbling, “Bish, you my boo.”
I laugh at my silliness, but it’s true. I look fucking amazing. My laughter brings a smile to my face.
After I kicked Sam’s ass earlier this week, I went home so drained I slept until Thomas woke, informing me that the video of my mother being tortured was a fake. I was equally relieved and pissed off. I was relieved she wasn’t in danger but pissed that no one had heard or seen my mom in months. If she had at least kept in touch, I wouldn’t have to rely on outside sources to verify she’s not tied up somewhere.
So, while I’m not sold on tonight, I’m looking forward to getting to party with Shay, Wy, and Karl. I was hoping to ride to this stupid event with Shay, but apparently, as a selected,
I have some specialty transportation picking me up.
The sound of running pulls me out of my musing, and I turn to see my siblings gawking from the door.
“Wow,” they all say.
Screaming far too loudly, Ky says excitedly, “You look like a princess, Riah!”
Jamie’s mouth has yet to close. I smirk at her, “I know I look like some debutante Barbie with curves, right?”
“No, Riah, you look far better. Barbie is an unrealistic characterization of patriarchal standards of beauty. You look like the real thing.”
I can’t help but laugh. “What the hell are they teaching you at school, Jamie? Can you even spell half of what you just said?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she retorts, “It doesn’t matter if I can spell it. All that matters is that you know it.”
I love this girl. She’s amazing and snarky rolled into one medium-sized human.
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.