Page 61 of Bride By Initiation
"Please tell me," I beg.
He sits back, folds his hands on his lap, and says nothing else.
I decide not to ask any more questions. What's the point? It's clear he's not going to answer any of them.
We drive and drive until we get to a private airport. There's a jet on the runway.
The car stops. A moment passes and then the driver opens the door. He points to the staircase on the plane.
I don't ask questions. I stay silent and get out, then carefully make my way up the staircase, my pulse skyrocketing.
A bit of relief hits me when I get past the door and turn the corner. Sylvia sits on a plush leather chair. In a sweet tone, she says, "Zara, it's nice to see you again."
"You too," I reply.
She pats the plush leather next to her. "Sit, darling."
I don't argue. I sit down and wait for her to speak.
It doesn't take long before the jet's door closes, and we're in the air. Anxiety electrifies my veins, intensifying every minute she remains silent. I finally blurt out, "Where are we going?"
Sylvia puts her hand on my thigh, replying, "I can't tell you, but don't worry. You'll be safe."
"Why can't you tell me?"
Amusement fills her expression. "You seem so naive, Zara, but I know you're not."
"No?"
She shakes her head. "No. And it's time for you to make a forever choice."
Fear hits me. The word forever scares me for a lot of reasons. I admit, "I don't understand."
She smirks.
I add, "I hate it when you talk in riddles."
"Everything will soon make sense." She hands me the binder that was in my house.
I gape at it, then ask, "How did you get this?"
She raises an arrogant brow.
"Never mind, that was a stupid question."
She softly laughs. "Ah, now you're seeing how this works." She points to the binder. "Which one do you prefer? I've been wondering since we last met. I know you've been studying them."
My face heats. I hate the fact that she seems to know what I'm doing. I searched my entire apartment for cameras or microphones and found nothing. But she and John seem to know everything about me. I don't like it. I don't understand it. It makes no sense to me, no matter how hard I try to figure it out.
When I don't answer her, she adds, "Don't worry, Zara. It doesn't matter who you select, so stop stressing over it. Whoever you end up with will be the right one."
The hairs on my arms rise. "Why is that?"
She flips through the book slowly, so every man appears, and then shuts it, pinning her challenging stare on me. "They have to choose you first before you choose them. So whoever you commit to, will be the correct one."
Commit to.
My stomach flips faster. "Choose me for what?" I demand, but I'm scared of the answer. It's another mystery that has kept me up at night. I can think of too many bad things about what these men choosing me might mean.
