Page 72 of The Puppetmaster

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 window, 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.

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