Page 35 of Their Cruel Love

I blush again. “I’m not foolish.”

“You are. You are.”

Sir Greg keeps his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Tell me more then, oh wise stepmum.” My sarcasm has returned, a vestige of years of her haranguing me, insisting I do this and that. About the only thing I am glad she made me do is to learn how to shoot a gun. If only I had one now.

“I know you hate me, and I’m not terribly keen on you, Phoebe, but give me a moment while I itemize what has just happened.”

I frown and wait. The long-ago days of returning home from school to have my offences recited are coming back to me.

“Homework time?”

“Near enough.” She inhales, smooths the lap of her red dress. “Right. One.” She taps a finger, counting. “You march in here expecting this board to pay heed to your flimsy ramblings. Two. You have no real evidence. Three. You plan on making threats that will result in unknown punishment, for you. We can be ruthless.”

My eyes are wide, and I’m probably looking stunned. “What do you mean?”

“You think that we cannot punish people who make threats?”

“You can’t be serious?” Except I know she is deadly serious.

“Shush, girl. Four. You signed an agreement without reading it thoroughly. None of the fee you paid has to be refunded, even though you cannot be a board member. Three million, down the tubes, as you might say.”

“I wouldn’t ask for it.” I’m protesting just to seem defiant. This is exactly like homework, but worse. Three mill gone for nothing is just fucking horrible, even to me.

They punish nuisance people? My face contorts in anger.

“Are you saying Milli became a nuisance to the board and you all…vanished her? If that?—”

“No, I am not. Sir Gregory?”

“No. We didn’t,” he says.

I barely remember him from when he last attended one of Father’s affairs. His eyebrows are sharp, gray wedges, his face lean and long. He’s tall, perfectly British, and handsome. Suddenly I’m imagining him as a sugar daddy. Not my kink, but he might be someone’s. After today, I may need therapy, again.

I pinch my lips. How can I believe them? I have fucked upthough. I’ve lost millions and am no closer to solving this.

“So. Back to business. I am actually mildly impressed that you are doing something to help your friend.” She what? My stepmother continues. “Whether she is alive or not is currently unknown. But I do know that the fraternity may have a problem that appears to be linked to similar unauthorized disappearances of young women. If you want to find out more, if you are willing to do some dirty work, and by dirty, I mean put yourself into dangerous situations?” Her mouth forms a fleeting smile, and she leaves that question dangling.

I must wonder if me dead or hurt amuses her. “If?” I prompt, my interest is stirring.Mildly impressedis a huge compliment, from her.

“Then I and the three other founding members, of which Sir G is one, will employ you. Tell me this. Is there anything else you can contribute to this meagre pile of evidence you brought?”

“Well.” I hesitate because I’m sure she will throw me into an asylum if she wishes to. If she can. It is entirely possible she’s planning to get rid of me through this exercise. “I’ve been having these nightmares of a woman being sacrificed by men. I think it’s a snuff film. I think it’s what happened to Milli.” Though I really don’t want to believe that. “Every night for weeks and the room it happens in, it matches the image that Seth found.”

I press my lips together even more firmly. I wait for her to call it nonsense.

Instead, she blurts out, “Fuck.”

I lean in, my hands clasped between my thighs, wondering what provoked this burst of swearing from her. “I’m not a psychic. I don’t know why I’m seeing this.”

“Of course you don’t.” She pauses, and the stillness on herface betrays a new-born concern, then she adds, speaking carefully as if afraid to miss something, “I am filing that as an absurd coincidence and so should you. It changes nothing. However, there is a short segment of a film that we have obtained, and only the four of us have seen this. It appears to be a snuff film showing the death of someone who came to a CNC event then vanished. Do you still want to be involved?”

I nod, soberly, all too aware of her scrutiny. “I have never wanted your approval. I do noteverwant it. I’m doing this for Milli. Only her. What do I have to do?”

Even as I volunteer, questions remain in my mind.

Is she trying to get me killed?

---