Page 68 of Cruel Devotion

“Why would I allow that?”

Duck spoke, “Because on the journey up, I will make her laugh so much that a good bit of her anger will disappear.”

“But can I trust you?”

“Of course, Mountain Master. I told you that I was stepping aside.” Duck groaned in annoyance and headed off.

Chen scowled. “Work with us, please.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I want this feast done fast so Monique and I can talk.”

“Then, after you, Mountain Master.” Chen moved out of my way.

I began to walk forward and watched Monique up ahead.

With a resigned sigh, she lifted her dress slightly and gracefully lowered into the chair.

As she settled in, the men bowed slightly in respect. She gave them a polite nod, her poise never faltering, even though I sensed her discomfort.

She was made for this.

In that moment, she reminded me of my mother.

Chen hurried off and clapped his hands. Due to that, the four men took their positions by the poles and lifted it up from the ground.

A small shriek came from Monique, but she regained her balance and went silent.

Duck got on the left of her.

Hu went to the right.

And I. . .unfortunately. . .remained several feet behind with Chen walking on my side.

Chapter eleven

Impossible

Monique

Last week at this exact time, I was waitressing at the strip club, almost blinded by harsh neon lights and gaudy decor.

Every time I looked up at those lights, I’d dream of a brighter, different life, but knew that the chances of anything more for myself was very fucking dim.

Impossible, even.

Carrying heavy trays loaded with drinks and oversized bowls of salted popcorn, I remembered this one regular—a man that could have been my grandfather—who’d once whispered in my ear, “You don’t belong here.”

Always I wondered in my head. . .

Was he right?

But bills needed to get paid and my sisters had to eat and I was determined to give them better days. They could go to college. I would do double shifts half-naked in those heels to make it happen.

Their future success served as my motivation.

So nightly, I navigated a floor littered with leering eyes and outstretched hands. There was Carl, the club’s manager, who never missed an opportunity to demean me. Yet, I’d always bite back my retorts, reminding myself of thebiggerpicture.

And every glance felt intrusive.

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