Page 34 of Their Cruel Love

I look around as Queen O raps the table then again flips up her hand. “Stop there. I wish to discuss aborting this meeting before information is revealed that may compromise us. Granted?”

“Granted.” The intoned answer echoes across the room and seems unanimous.

“What? Why?” Frantic, I whip my head around, scanning the members then whatever or whoever is behind me. Nothing has changed. Only the staff member in a black suit remains at the door, hands clasped before him, behaving as if this were normal.

I return my focus to the table and the members are staring at me, in silence. “What are you doing?” Maybe if I yell my information?

“Robard! You will not speak further, Phoebe Bartholomew, or this will go poorly for you. An adjournment, please. Remove her from the room, Robard.” Queen O stands.

Objecting is an option, until it is not.Go poorlyseems ominous because this is a boardroom of millionaires andbillionaires. I let Robard guide me out the door and stay there for about six minutes, while they debate what to do with me, I assume.

When I’m allowed back in, Queen O, she of the medusa headdress, approaches me, along with Mister Gray Hair, my theoretical head of the board.

“Can I speak now?” I ask loudly. The chairs are emptying, and the members are exiting using a rear door. After selling my apartment and using the funds to buy in, now this? Was it wasted? More to the question, can I get a refund? Where do I go from here?

“Stay silent!” Queen O points at me as she strides, as if her hand is a rocket she plans to launch.

The sounds coming from behind tell me Robard hasn’t left. I back sideways, wary of what he might do.

“Gag, Queen O?” he asks.

“If she talks when told not to, yes. It would give me great pleasure to have you gag her.”

Her and this…Fuck.The man from the top chair is Sir Gregory. As he comes closer, he removes his white mask and tosses it away.

They stop before me. With Robard to my left, looking ready to do whatever they ask of him, I subside. I raise my hand in confused protest, and I’m breathing raggedly, despite not actually running anywhere. I’m not made for this kind of angst. The rest of the board leaves. The rear door clicks shut. At least I know Sir Gregory.

I take a step backward. What do they think I am about to say? If they fear my message from Seth, then they know what it is. How though? I gave up my phone, but it is passworded and locked with facial ID.

The snakes on Queen O’s elaborate headdress writhe asshe pushes the attached mask higher. Animatronic snakes in a headdress is overkill, even for this board of kinksters.

I let my gaze settle on her face as the mask clears it. Slowly, she sets aside the mask, smiling enigmatically as she sees my expression turn to shock.

Her!

Oh shit oh crap.My expert credentials for identifying masked people have just been downgraded. Emma Bartholomew—the viper queen, my friends from school called her. The medusa mask is so apt. Her thick red hair is arranged in a bun, else I might have grasped her identity earlier.

“Mother? Really?” I scowl at my stepmother, then the door guard. “And you are a long-lost uncle, I suppose? Half my family and friends are here, why not you,” I say bitterly.

“You may leave, Robard.” Sir G nods, and the man retreats, closing the door behind him.

“Just us then. Fuck this. I’m sitting down. I don’t think I can take more standing up. I might say I’m disgusted,Mother, but that wouldn’t be new.” Even as I sit on the chair, I shudder, recalling the event with Razor and Marcus. “I pray you weren’t there, in Spain?”

She may not be a blood relative but imagining her watching me almost come while sitting on Razor…ewww.

“Of course not, dear, thank heavens. I rarely go now, not since your father passed. I know thetechnicaldetails of your attendance. If anyone shows me pictures, I’ll have them shot.” She pulls up a chair and sits. Sir Greg chooses to remain standing.

If she was the dominant partner, Father was her submissive. Or perhaps a switch? It’s an uncomfortable revelation.

I bend over my lap and rub my hands across my face. “What the fuck are you doing here then? Why stop that meeting?Stop playing with my life!Thisis a real problem!” Tears try to flood my eyes. I stiffen, and for once I hold them back. “My friend,” I say quietly, “she may be dead. I want this fraternity of yours to fucking find out what happened to her!”

“Demands, Phoebe?” She tsks.

I’m studying the floor, unwilling to meet her eyes. The main doors open, and Robard scuttles smoothly in, judging by his passing shoes, then he leaves again.

I grit my teeth and raise my head, glaring, and discover Queen O, my stepmother, brandishing the bright screen of my opened phone. “Oh.”

“Yes.Ohhh, Phoebe.” She snaps shut the lid of the small lockable box that must have held my phone and places it next to her headdress. “This message from Seth is dangerous. I had word.” She taps her ear. “You, shouting at the board that the police might investigate us if you tell themthings.” She winces then waves a hand dismissively. “You’re such a foolish girl. They can own you a thousand times over. Easily. With small change.”

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