Page 46 of Broken Queen
I shook the black-haired man’s hand—Ernest—then shook Bloom’s hand too, my skin itching with needles. Fuck, I wanted to kill him. Bloom addressed the guests.
“Like Logan Astor, Boucher has shown so much promise already. And he comes with my daughter’s highest confidences.”
“But we haven’t seen him in action,” one of the members said.
“Yeah! Let’s host a Masquerade! Get acquainted with the fellow,” another member said.
“What an excellent idea. I’ll host it again,” Bloom said, adjusting his jacket. He faced me. “Is there anything you’d like to tell the group about yourself? I know it’s sudden, but my daughter is an excellent judge of character, and I trust that you’ll take the position seriously.”
I glanced around. These men looked like they had power. Crisp suits. Expensive watches. Oxford shoes. And at that moment, I looked like I fit in too. But everything I was wearing, besides my boxers, belonged to Zira. She had dressed me up like a doll to be a part of their world.
It wasn’t supposed to be me up here.
“Your daughter should have the position,” I said. “She’s the one who belongs on your board.”
Bloom chuckled loudly. “You are a dedicated man, aren’t you?” He smacked my back. “She’s very, very good for the Marked Blooms Syndicate, but what I need is a son.”
My chest crawled, bile forming in the back of my throat. He wanted a son? Like a son-in-law, or like he wanted me to fuck his daughter so that he would have a male heir?
All of it made me sick. Bloom saw me as an object to use, just like he used Zira. There had to be another reason behind it all.
Bloom handed me a small black phone. “This has the important information you need, including the contact for the security here. It only works with your fingerprints. Once you power it on, it’ll scan your fingertips.”
I nodded, but glared down at the thing like it was a bomb that might blow up any second. The whole thing disgusted me, but Zira bobbed her head eagerly, cheering me on, hollering over the chatter, as if she was a fangirl waiting in the wings. It wasn’t like her.
This had to bother her more than it bothered me.
A slew of members came over, asking me what I did for a living, what kinds of companies I owned, where I lived in Opulent Gates, and the lies that came out of my mouth were impressive enough for an acting award. There was exhilaration in that; all of these people, Bloom included, thought I belonged here. Or perhaps they knew I was full of shit and they wanted to see how much I could get away with. But my eyes kept following Zira.
This had to be heartbreaking for her.
She tapped her fingers against her sides, beaming at me like a beauty pageant contestant with petroleum jelly smeared on her teeth. I braced myself for the worst. It was the ones who hid their emotions behind a smile that were the hardest to placate. It was easier to get rid of the people who got in your way, or to avoid that shit all together. And yet, I had to say something. Had to figure out what she was thinking.
“You okay?” I asked.
“This is great,” she said, her voice higher pitched than usual. “This is exactly what we wanted.”
“We?” I said. “Did you put your dad up to this?”
A forced cackle burst from her mouth; it might as well have been a pre-recorded track for a crappy comedy. She tilted her head to the side.
“All I did was tell my father how amazing you are. He did the rest,” she said.
“But what about the board? That’s what you want. The seat I have?—”
“Don’t talk too loudly.”
I growled. “They know how I feel. This is stupid. You?—”
Zira grabbed my arm and pulled me across the banquet hall, down one of those long hallways. She steered us to a room off to the side with a sofa and a coffee bar, then closed the door shut behind us.
“We just have to get rid of Ernest,” she said in a low voice. “He’s the other key member. Once he’s dead, you’ll have fifty percent of the vote. You and my father can elect me.”
I studied her for a moment. Why hadn’t she attacked me? She should have accused me of being in on some grand scheme with her father, and instead, she was acting like everything was fine.
It was almost like I could trust her, knowing we could figure it out together, even when shit got real.
But it unnerved me. Why wasn’t she freaking out?
