Page 69 of His Puppet

“Even if for some reason it did matter to him, Settimo is my best friend and trumps Lorenzo,” Blade goes on. “He knows all about you and me.”

More tightening.

“He does?”

Blade frowns. He steps to the edge of the bed before taking my face in his hands. “You know how important you are to me… Right?”

Yes.

I think.

I don’t know, I’m not used to this. My relationship experience is pretty much zero. Scratch that, it is zero. I’d never been on a true date before Blade, as in one where I didn’t wind up with more money than I came with. After everything that happened in my childhood… Let’s just say I have trust issues.

Kind of ironic who I ended up with, isn’t it? The guy who kidnapped me. I almost laugh at the thought, but Blade looks so serious, I can’t feel the humor.

I don’t know what to say, so I take too long to answer. Blade looks at his watch, and his frown deepens.

“I have to go,” he says, sighing. “We’ll talk about this later.”

He kisses my forehead, grabs his keys off the nightstand, and heads for the door.

“Go back to sleep, beautiful,” he calls over his shoulder.

I sit in the bed, thinking for a long time. The idea of me meaning so much to Blade is terrifying for some reason. It gives me this sense of dread that weighs down my stomach.

It’s one thing to live in the bubble, expecting at any minute for it to pop. It’s another to wonder if the bubble is more than a fantasy. Because fantasies feel good, and reality hurts. Reality means you dive in. Reality means you let down your guard. And how the fuck could someone like me possibly do that?

I bite my lip and close my eyes. So many times this week I’ve felt like saying the L-word. It almost slipped past my lips several times. It didn’t matter how I thought I felt then because I could tell myself it was just an illusion. A fantasy.

What if it’s real?

What if I love Blade?

What if I get hurt?

I lay back in bed and uselessly try to find sleep, trying the best I can to halt my thoughts, but I can’t. It’s an hour before Franco is due that I finally give up and climb out of bed.

I take my time in the shower and have plenty of time left once I’m dressed, so I leisurely head downstairs, coffee in mind. It’s nice not to be in a rush. I can see why Blade wakes up so early.

A knock on the door halts me on the stairs, and I look at the entryway confused. I finish down the stairs and walk into the kitchen to check the time, and sure enough, It’s only seven fifteen. Franco is a half hour early.

He bangs on the door with urgency, and I start to worry. Normally, he doesn’t even get out of the car. He just honks.

I stride to the front door and fling it open, only to gasp and jump back. My eyes widen to saucers when I see who’s waiting outside.

22

Emily

Victor stands there, his eye swollen and face scrunched with annoyance. His fist is raised like he was prepared to knock again.

“Jesus, it’s about time,” he says, lowering his fist.

I grab the door and go to swing it shut, but Victor wedges his boot between it and the frame just before it closes. My heart beats fast, and I put all my weight on the door. I brace myself for Victor to push against it, but he doesn’t.

“Would you stop?” he asks, his voice low but annoyed. “Mr. Bianchi gave the okay for me to come get you.”

Bullshit. Blade would never okay that.

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