Page 41 of Cruel Love
As I ate my meal of beef Wellington, I learned informationabout James that he’d never willingly disclosed to me. Like, how he was the CEO of a mobile phone company called Smarttech Solutions, or how he was the ambassador for a charity supporting victims of sexual assault.
Which was ironic, given what he subjected me to most nights.
But I should have known at some point that Eric would want to knowmore about his son’s new wife.
When our dinner was finished, and the plates cleared away, Ericturned his attention to me.“So, Willow. Tell me how you came to be at Peartree House?”
I froze, midway through dabbing my mouth with a napkin, as Jamesand Elijah both joined Eric in staring expectantly at me. James hadn’t instructed me to lie like he’d done when I met Kiera, and given that Eric already knew about my time at Peartree House, I figured honesty was the best policy.
“I…um…I don’t remember,”I said, my voice weak.
Eric’s eyes narrowed on me. Under the table, James slid his handonto my thigh like he’d done at dinner with Kiera, only instead of gripping it in warning, he rested it there, almost as if he was trying to reassure me.
“You don’t remember?”Eric said, a brow raised in curiosity.
“No, Sir.”
“And why is that? How can you not remember your life before youarrived at the house? Surely you must remember something, your parent’s names, for example. Come now, tell me how you ended up at the house.”
I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat as pain searedacross my back.
“I don’t remember my parent’s names,”I replied, trying to stop mybottom lip from wobbling as the pain intensified.
“I don’t believe you, girl,”Eric hissed menacingly as he slammed hisfist on the oak table.“You’re lying!”
“I…I’m not, Sir,”I pleaded, looking to James next to me and hopinghe’d take pity on me.
He knew the truth. I’d told him the night he came to my room andquestioned me about my past and who had caused the scars on my back.
But of course, he didn’t say a word.
“You’re telling me that you don’t remember anything from before youwere ten years old? And why is that, girl?”
I cast a frantic gaze at Elijah, my last chance of someone taking pityon me, but he grinned back, evidently enjoying my torture.
“Be…because…”
“Because, what?” Eric bellowed.
Tears brimmed in my eyes.“I was taught not to remember.”
Silence filled the room, but under the table, James loosened his gripon my thigh.
Eric slumped in his chair.“And how were you taught?”
His tone left no room for argument. The fire spreading through myback spread up to my cheeks as I fidgeted in my seat in discomfort.
“I…I was whipped,”I said, my voice a mere whisper as memories ofthe whip lashing my bare skin filled my head.“They whipped me until I forgot.”
A tear slid down my cheek, a waterfall threatening to cascade fromme. Until James’ fingers started massaging my thigh. There was something comforting about feeling his hand on me when my demons were trying their hardest to take hold of me.
Across the table, a malevolent grin spread on Eric’s face.“Theywhipped you until you forgot,”he said, stroking a finger over his lip the way James often did.“Hmm, that’s not an agreed tactic in the program, but I have to say, I approve.”
“So do I,”Elijah added, taking a sip of his wine and smirking at me.“I’ve seen some of those girls in the program. A few of them could do with several lashes of a whip to knock the attitude out of them.”
“Quite,”Eric agreed. Next to me, James was as still as a statue withthe exception of his fingers rubbing my thigh gently.“And where did they whip you, girl?”
As if responding to the question, another flare of pain shot throughmy back.“My…my back, and…the back of my legs.”
