by Linnea May
“Trust you?” she sneers. “Raad, this is my bank account we’re talking about, my name, my financial security, my entire life—”
“Don’t be so dramatic.”
She inhales with indignation, shaking her head angrily.
“Is this why the other puppets disappeared after they were with you?” she demands, her lower lip quivering with anger. “Because you did this with them, too? And after they did what you asked them to, you were... done with them?”
She’s digging dangerously close to the truth, but not in the way she thinks.
“Nothing happened to my puppets,” I assure her. “And they didn’t disappear. They just never returned to The Velvet Rooms because that’s part of the nondisclosure agreement, as you very well know.”
She pins me down with a hurt stare, tears swelling in her eyes while she processes my words.
“That doesn’t really answer my question,” she says in a low voice. She sounds so hurt that it leaves a blazing sting biting deep in my chest.
“Are you done with me once I do this?” she asks brokenly.
Her question lingers between us, already carrying the painful truth with it.
A truth that I’m not willing to admit.
“No,” I lie. The words feel like dry straw in my mouth. “That’s not what this is about.”
As much as I have claimed to value honesty before her, I can’t be honest right now. I just can’t. I can’t tell Alena the whole truth just because she figured it out before all the other puppets did.
Because I need her. I need her to do this for me—and there’s just no fucking way around it.
And if it requires that I tell a little white lie to make this happen, then so be it.
I’m not sure whether she really buys it or if she just wants to believe it, but she seems to make up her mind right then and there by manifesting it with a nod.
“Okay,” she whispers. “So… you’re saying all I have to do is to go in there, sign my signature, and agree to buy shares of some pharmaceutical company, but you won’t tell me why?”
I nod. “I can’t tell you why. All I can tell you is that nothing bad will happen to you. I promise you that.”
She doesn’t look convinced when she looks at me with her head tilted to the side.
“How can I be sure of that?” she wants to know. “You just keep saying that I have to trust you, but to be honest, Raad, I’m not sure if that’s enough. You’re asking a lot of me here.”
“I know that,” I agree. “And if you don’t trust me, let me remind you that you’re protected under contract.”
She arches her eyebrows in question. “What contract?”
“The one you signed when you agreed to become my puppet,” I say. “Just like the nondisclosure, it doesn’t just serve to protect me, but you as well.”
“Is that so?” she queries. “You don’t happen to have that contract on you right now so I could make sure of that?”
I smirk at her. “You little smart ass. Of course I do.”
Surprise blossoms on her face when I pull out the paperwork from the briefcase that’s been resting on my lap.
“Thanks,” she utters without even looking at me when I hand the papers over to her.
“Please promise me you’ll read the paperwork at the bank more carefully than you did this,” I mock, winking, as she narrows her eyes at me.
Chapter 43
Alena
I still feel sick to my stomach when I think about what I did. It’s been two days since Raad escorted me to the bank, refusing to leave my side even as I was escorted into a secluded room to talk to the bank clerk in preparation for signing papers. I still don’t fully understand them, even after reading all of them thoroughly—twice.
I was torn between a sense of relief and sheer terror after I signed my name, the thought that I might just have committed the biggest mistake of my life rushing through me in unyielding waves.
Why did I do it then? Is it because I trust Raad? Is it because he promised he wouldn’t be done with me after I bought those shares in my name, but with his money?
My jaw dropped when I saw the full sum written on the paper before me, a seven-digit number that was and still is unfathomable to me. Considering that I’m someone who can’t even spend twenty dollars to make a simple online purchase without debating the decision for hours, this is more than insane to me.
I transferred millions of dollars with just a single signature—and I still don’t know what it is really for.
“Trust me.”
Raad keeps repeating that statement like a mantra, as if it would become easier to go along with the more often I heard him say it.
But that’s not how it works. And since he refuses to tell me anything at this point, I will just have to find out for myself.
I’ve been with him long enough to know his habits. Other than his early morning retreat on the terrace, there’s another thing I know about him: he works out almost every single day around the same time, right before we eat lunch. I’ve never seen it, but I know he has a personal gym in the basement so he doesn’t have to leave the house for his workout, which lasts about an hour.
On my second day here, I spent that time wandering around the house, too scared to actually touch anything or look at anything too closely. I also felt as if I were being watched the entire time, as Salwa followed me around like a watchdog, even letting out a faint meow as if to warn me when I checked the front door. I had no intention of leaving, I simply wanted to know if I could if I wanted to. The door was locked, as was almost every other door in the house, even the one leading out into the backyard. It was the first time I truly felt like I was trapped in a gilded cage.
Ever since then, I’ve mostly spent the hour during his workout tucked away on the couch in the parlor downstairs where we signed the papers and fucked like horny teenagers on my first day here.
But I know he has become more lenient since that first day. I know that the trust I bestow upon him is reciprocated and he no longer locks me away the way he used to.
That’s why I feel so bad about breaking that trust when I decide to go behind his back to find answers to the questions he refuses to answer.
I don’t dare do it right after we come back from our visit to the bank, and I’m still too indecisive even the day after. If I’m going to do this, I need to be resolute in my decision and have no qualms about whether I’m doing the right thing.
And I feel like today that’s exactly where I am.
We’ve barely spoken about our little excursion the past three days, but I’ve inquired more about his company and the market he works in. I made sure to stick to innocent questions, simply feigning interest in what he does for a living.
To my surprise, he was quite open to answering my questions then, telling me about his family’s pharmaceutical empire, which he is now running as part of the third generation. He was his father’s firstborn son and always meant to be his sole heir, despite the fact that he has a younger stepbrother.
He wasn’t too keen to talk about him, though, and I’m sure he only shared the other details about his family and his business with me because the nondisclosure agreement keeps me from sharing that information with anyone who only knows him as the Puppetmaster.
Not that I will set foot back into that world anytime soon.
Equipped with that newly found knowledge, I try to keep my mind occupied as I wait for the perfect opportunity to execute a plan that’s been evolving in my mind over the past three days. I know he keeps the door to his office locked at all times, but I’m sure he never checks to see whether the windows that lead out to the backyard are locked as well.
It was easier than I thought to convince him to take me into his office one afternoon, claiming I wanted to have another look at the nondisclosure agreement that I know he keeps filed in there. All it took was one quick moment of him being distracted as he opened the safe hidden under his desk for me to stand close to the wi
ndow, unhook the little clasp that secures it, and hope to God that he would not notice what I was doing.
He didn’t notice, though he did throw me a skeptical look as I scanned the agreement. The atmosphere has been tense between us, to say the least, but I could tell that he was very keen on making me feel safe and relaxed after our visit to the bank. Whatever this is all about, it’s obviously very important to him and he needs me to play along.
He’s a smart man, but not too smart to be strung along by a woman, even if that woman is his puppet and the one hanging from his strings, not the other way around. I didn’t need long to realize that it’s not purely up to him when and how we play with each other, and when I felt that his suspicion grew a little too great that day in his office, I hurried to hand the agreement back to him and followed up with a demure smile. I topped it off by softly caressing his side as I wandered back to the door, swinging my hips seductively as I walked. He took hold of my strings just a moment later, pulling me up to the bedroom, as if he were the one who just decided that I needed to be put in my place when there was nothing I wanted more at the time.
Today, however, I’m not going to play him.
I’m going to betray him.
That thought seeps deep into my core, weighing me down heavily and clouding my mood, as I wait for him to disappear for his workout session downstairs. I’m curled up on the sofa, within earshot of the door that leads down to the basement, waiting for it to open and close. My heart is beating so rapidly that it feels as if it’s about to jump out of my chest when I finally hear the door and then the muffled sound of his steps as he descends to the basement.
I wait for a few more moments before I jump up from the sofa, hurrying out into the hall to check whether the door to the basement is really closed and he has vanished. When I’m sure of it, I don’t waste another moment before heading to the French doors that lead out to the terrace. They are unlocked, as expected, allowing me to run out to the terrace and head to the far right, all the way to the window that I unlocked earlier.
Sending up a last quick prayer, I pause for a moment before testing the window, pushing only slightly to see whether it moves at all.
It does. The window is unlocked.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed at this revelation, because a locked window would inherently mean that I would not have to make a decision I don’t want to make. A locked window would have put a sudden end to my betrayal, and in a way, that would have made things so much easier.
But it’s open. I can climb inside and snoop around in his office—and there’s a good chance that he will never find out.
I take in a deep breath before I finally convince myself to push the window all the way up and follow through with a plan that could get me into a lot of trouble—or finally grant me the answers I’ve been seeking for so long.
Chapter 44
Raad
Something feels off. Alena has never been a good liar. I always know when she is hiding something from me, no matter how much she tries to deny it.
There’s a sense of doubt digging its ugly claws into the back of my neck when I make my way down to the basement. Working out has always been the best way to clear my mind and help me get rid of any negative feeling or scrutinizing thoughts, but today it only fuels my unease because it keeps me away from her.
I keep telling her to trust me, and it seemed like she did, finding a little bit of ease when I was willing to share details about my life with her that I’ve barely shared with any other puppet. Truth be told, most of them didn’t even ask about these things because their interest in me never deepened beyond a superficial level born out of lust and attraction. They claimed they wanted to know who I really was besides the Puppetmaster, but none of them was ever as observant as Alena. None of them noticed the things she has.
And none of them ever poked at the ugly truth like she has.
But as flattering as it is, it’s also highly troubling, especially now that I’m so close to my goal. A massive weight fell off my shoulders when Alena provided her signature and effectively transferred the highest number of shares into her name that I’ve ever acquired with the help of my puppets. It took all my strength not to jump up and down in jubilation, raising my fists into the air and screaming loudly that I did it, that I finally fucking did it.
Of course, that would have been premature, because despite being an enormous step closer to the finish line, I’m still not done with this. Nothing is set in stone until I can use the proxy I have for her shares to deal the final blow.
I’m so close. So fucking close.
Maybe that’s why this goddamn fear is playing havoc with my nerves. I’m so close to the end of something that took years to build, and now that I’m nearly there, it just seems too unreal to believe it.
No. That’s not it.
Something is wrong. I can feel it. I never imagine the expressions displayed on Alena’s face, and I know there was something there this morning.
Something that should stop me from letting her out of my sight.
I have just finished my warm-up sessions, my heart rate slowly calming from a set of push-ups as I sit down on the mat, pondering whether to simply cast the distressing thoughts aside or let myself be rattled enough to interrupt my workout and head back upstairs to check on Alena.
What am I even afraid of? That she could run away from me? Would she do that? Did I lock the front door? I’m pretty sure I did, but the door to the backyard is unlocked, leaving a way out for her if fleeing was her intention.
But what then? Even if she did run away, there’s nothing she could do to harm me. The nondisclosure agreement would stop her from doing that.
The agreement she asked to have another look at. Why did she really ask to do that? Did I overlook something?
The thoughts keep hammering against my skull with growing intensity, relentlessly forcing themselves to the center of my attention until it’s no longer possible for me to ignore them.
I have to check on her.
Jumping to my feet, I try to calm myself as I make my way up the stairs, too stubborn to hurry, even though I’d love nothing more than to run up to her if only to calm this harrowing chatter in my mind. But I’m determined not to let my inner unrest show, even when no one’s watching. Never.
I move slowly and cautiously, hardly making a noise as I walk through the door that opens into the entrance area of the house. The house is quiet, which is nothing unusual per se, but I still feel like the silence weighs heavily this time, shrouding the house like a dark cloud.
I want to tell myself that I’m imagining things, that I’m just driving myself crazy with an unwarranted suspicion. But I still proceed with cautious steps, my body tense and on alert when I approach the parlor where I last saw her sitting curled up with a book, like she usually is when I retreat for my workout.
But she’s not there. The door to the room is open, the blanket spread out on the sofa and the book right next to it, facedown on the cushions.
My first instinct is to yell for her, to bellow her name through the house until I see her standing in front of me, a docile smile on her pretty face that would reassure me that everything is fine and my suspicions were unwarranted.
But I remain quiet, instead following a noise that rarely echoes through these halls: meowing. The cat has never been very talkative, so the sheer succession with which it now chatters away is enough to lure me closer, the dreadful conjecture that’s been gnawing away at me growing to an unbearable level.
It doesn’t get better when I find the cat pacing up and down in front of my closed office door. It continues its incessant meowing, its eyes remaining latched on the locked door. It pauses for a moment, not minding my presence as it gets up on its hind legs and pushes its forepaws against the door, desperate to get inside. It’s never done this before. In fact, it’s never shown any interest in my office ever before.
My eyes whip up to the handle of the door, restin
g there as I try to figure out what’s going on. I don’t want to believe it at first, but deep down I know that there is only one answer that would explain the cat’s behavior.
I move forward determinedly, fuddling for the keys that I keep on me at all times. The cat jumps aside, releasing an irritated hiss at my sudden appearance as I slide the key into the lock with trembling fingers. Time moves excruciatingly slowly as I turn the key once, twice, finally opening the door after what seems like an eternity—only to find Alena sitting on the floor in the middle of my office, surrounded by papers and a tablet in her hand.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks when she looks up at me with a horrified expression on her face. She looks so hurt and terribly scared that the sight of it manages to silence the fury burning within me for just long enough to feel sorry for her. Her entire body is trembling and her face appears contorted in pain as she fights for words.
“What did you do?” she stutters under suppressed tears. “What the hell did you make me do?”
Chapter 45
Alena
This is the first time I’m actually afraid of him.
No, I’m not just afraid—I’m fucking terrified.
He doesn’t waste a second before charging at me, outrage consuming his expression as he grabs my arm to yank me up, causing the tablet to crash noisily to the floor. I stumble to my feet, trying to squirm free from his strong hold, even though I know the effort is futile.
“What are you doing in here?!” he rages at me, hot panic threading through his voice. “How the hell did you get in here?”
He drags me through the room, completely unfazed by my ridiculous flailing motions.
“You’re a monster!” I shriek under tears. “What did you make me do?! How could you!”
He ignores my screeching and pulls me through the living area, passing by the open kitchen and heading toward the stairs. My terror grows with every foot we get closer to the stairs, closer to the second floor, closer to the bedroom where I know there’s no escape for me.
