Page 47 of His Puppet

I hesitate, wanting to say more, but let out a sigh and gesture toward the door. We get out of the car and begin toward the back entrance in silence.

Once we’re inside, we take the elevator down to the basement where Victor is waiting for us. He’s leaned against the wall opposite the elevator with a smirk on his face.

“Good afternoon,” he says, his eyes locked on Emily.

She stares him down and responds only by jutting her chin and squaring her shoulders. My lips lift but then fall as I glare at Victor.

He points to Emily, his eyes on me. “Gotta check the girl.”

“Excuse me?” I grit.

He grins. “Sorry, boss man. Just policy.”

“She doesn’t have anything.”

“Mmm.” Victor’s head tilts. “You’ve thought that before and been wrong. Or so I’m told.”

My hands ball into fists, and I clench my jaw, but after a few moments, I reluctantly step to the side. Victor comes up to Emily, and she lifts her arms up at her sides. She stands like a statue as her dead eyes stare at the wall.

Victor takes his time patting every inch of her, glancing at me and smirking on occasion.

“That’s enough,” I snap when he pushes it and palms her breasts.

He shrugs and steps away. “You gotta be careful with these ones, Mr. Bianchi. Everywhere is a hiding place.”

“Go fuck yourself,” I growl, grabbing Emily’s arm and roughly dragging her in the direction of the enclosure I know Settimo and Lorenzo will be in. My teeth are ground tightly enough it’s a wonder they don’t crumble, and my anger only grows as Victor follows behind us, whistling.

Ignore it.

Ignore it.

Ignoreit.

I let go of Emily’s arm and spin around. Victor’s eyes widen as I grab him by the collar and throw him against the wall. I wrap my hand around his neck and squeeze.

“Enough,” I sneer, squeezing harder.

His face turns red while a vein on his forehead throbs, but he keeps his hands at his sides. His eyes don’t show even an inkling of fear. If anything, they show amusement.

The metal door swings open, and footsteps sound. Two pairs of them. I don’t let go of Victor’s neck or turn that way.

“Is something wrong, Blade?”

I turn to Lorenzo, and he raises a brow, his hands in his pockets. Settimo stands next to him with a tiny smirk on his face, looking between me and Victor.

I take one last look at Victor before letting go of his neck. He coughs and gasps, his hands going to his neck as he hunches over. The bastard still has the audacity to look up at me with a smile, even as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Sorry,” I say, rolling my neck and turning toward Lorenzo. “Your boy can be irritating.”

Lorenzo turns to Victor. “Is there areasonyou’re irritating Mr. Bianchi?”

Victor shakes his head and stands straight. He manages to get his breathing under control. “Of course not, sir. Mr. Bianchi didn’t appreciate my thoroughness when checking the girl.” He looks at me and manages not to smirk, but I can see it in the son of a bitch’s eyes. “I think he’s sweet on her.”

The tension in the room is palpable, with my rage and Lorenzo’s disdain mixing. I can tell he’s pissed about me putting my hands on his soldier, but he doesn’t voice it.

“Mr. Bianchi is perfectly capable of ensuring our guest doesn’t have a weapon,” Settimo says, his glare aimed at Victor.

“I asked Victor to check her,” Lorenzo says, glancing from Settimo to Emily. “No offense, Blade. I’m sensing a weak spot coming from you.”