Page 22 of The Puppetmaster

He doesn’t feel like a stranger, though. He feels familiar, comfortable even, despite the hint of peril that laces every syllable when he speaks to me. The pull is even stronger now, making it almost unbearable to be in the same room without touching him.

That’s why I dared to tease him, that’s why I tickled the bratty side within me—because I wanted him to come closer to me, to handle me. I was hoping for more than being grasped around my throat, but as it turned out, eventhatwas more than he was willing to give. He made sure to keep his distance after that, always staying an arm’s length from me when he told me about the task he expects me to complete.

I still have about thirty-six hours to finish that task—and to make a decision that could possibly impact the rest of my life.

“Alena?”

Mr. Hammond’s voice is stern and demanding, feeling like a punch that tears me back to the here and now. He’s standing right next to me, holding the door open and gesturing for me to come inside.

I jump up from the chair, clutching the written notice against my body as I follow him into the interior of his office.

He looks exhausted and terribly annoyed, and a part of me hopes that it has little to do with me and the fact that I quit my job in such a dramatic fashion. A part of me still wishes he feels the stress of losing one of his best employees because, let’s face it, that’s what I was to this firm.

The confidence that comes with that thought helps me to march into Mr. Hammond’s office with my head held high, my back straight, shoulders pulled back, and a smile on my face.

Yet my heart is beating rapidly as I sit down opposite of him, trying to read the expression on his face when he sinks his heavy body into the wide chair on the other side of the desk.

“Alena, dear,” he begins, already tingling a bit of fury within my chest. I hate it when he calls medear. It makes me feel like a dumb little girl.

“I must say, your resignation came as quite a surprise to me, and I’m sorry to see you go,” he continues, his voice a monotone, as if he’s giving a recital or a speech that he doesn’t care about. “But if this is your wish, then I won’t stand in your way. I know you will stand by your decision, even if the way you voiced it wasn’t… ideal to say the least.”

He raises an eyebrow at me, supporting himself on his elbows as he leans forward to pin me down with a reproachful look. “I won’t hold you back, and we can also talk about the two weeks’ notice clause in your contract. As I see it, you still have some vacation days left that you could use to shorten the time you have left here.”

I stare at him, confused and—to be totally honest—a little disappointed. It almost sounds as if he’s happy to get rid of me.

“You’re… just going to let me go?”

Mr. Hammond shrugs, throwing me a friendly but somewhat distant smile.

“You’re a smart young woman, Alena, and I’m sure you know what’s best for you.”

We sit in silence for a few awkward moments, and I’m sure he must see the shock on my face, the disappointment.

Why is he not fighting for me? How can he just let me go like this? And why is he suggesting I use up some of my remaining vacation days so I can leave even sooner?

I swallow dryly, trying to make sense of his words. Maybe I wasn’t as much of an asset to this company as I thought I was? Maybe my ideas really were stupid.

I lower my eyes in defeat, studying the written resignation in my hands while I let that saddening realization sink in. I feel like an idiot. An idiot who thought a little too highly of herself.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” Mr. Hammond pokes, now with a hint of irritation in his voice. “You told me you wanted to quit, and as I can see, you even brought official notice of it in writing to make things final today. Why that face?”

He nods toward the paper in my hand, reaching a hand out for it. I hesitate for a second before I give it to him. As soon as the page transfers from my hands to his, the finality of my decision hits me like a goddamn train—and I burst into tears.

Chapter 14

Raad

I never leave Manhattan for long. This place, this neighborhood, this bustling center of power, money and, yes, life—nothing embodies life itself as much as Manhattan. The variety, the insanity, the busy hustle, and the constant transition all while never changing its true character, nowhere compares to it in the world. And I’ve been around enough to judge.

In a way, I’m a product of the pull that this melting pot has had on people from all over the world. My mother was not born a US citizen, but when she built a life for herself here, she found it easiest to adjust in this very city because it’s used to the variety of faces and provides a home for all of them.

Yet I like the fact that my hunting grounds—The Velvet Rooms—are not located here but in the Boston suburbs. It’s a good enough reason for me to leave the city to find some new and fresh faces.

I know Alena grew up in New York, albeit in a rough area of Brooklyn. I wonder if it would feel like coming home to her, even though she’ll be heading to Manhattan, a very different environment from the one that shaped her.

My housemaid Dorota greets me with her usual warm smile when she opens the door of my Upper East Side townhouse. I try to mirror the expression. I’m not in the mood for smiling; I almost never am. If there’s a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, it rarely has anything to do with friendliness. It is usually there because of a dark thoughts taking up residence in my soul.

But Dorota deserves the effort. She has worked for my family for decades, even when my mother was still alive. She’s caring, loyal, discreet, and—most importantly—trustworthy. I know that both my brother and I have given her more trouble than a woman like her should ever be forced to bear, but she always had our back, even when we broke the law. She refused to testify against either of us and risked going to prison herself, even though she had nothing to do with our misdeeds and knew nothing about it.

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