Page 71 of The Puppetmaster

“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.

“Trustme.”

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.

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