Page 61 of Blazing Desires
“You have no idea how much I want to bend you over my desk, expose your delectable pussy and have my way with you.”
His breath tickles my ear and I squirm at the sensation, at his filthy words. It elicits a delicious noise from him and it’s all I can do to not throw myself at his desk to be used by him, filled by him. His other arm bands around my waist to keep me still.
“We’ve got time, love. But first, we need to go through this. You need to knoweverything. If you don’t hate me afterwards, I’ll give you anything you want.”
I hear the vulnerability and sadness in his words, as if he’s already accepted that I’ll hate him after this, but can’t stop himself from hoping, touching, and teasing anyway.
“Let’s get it over with.” My voice is steadier than I expect it to be.
He places a soft kiss below my ear and untangles his hand from my hair, banding it around me to join his other one as he moves us closer to his desk. He wiggles his mouse, making the screen light up.
He only takes his hands off of me to enter a long password that I’d never be able to remember even if I wanted to and types some codes from his phone. The screen changes to a plain background with a few folders neatly arranged on the desktop.
He clicks on one and types in another complex mix of a password and codes, and when he’s done, hundreds of files and photos appear on the screen. They take time to load but when they do, I grip the edge of the desk at what I see.
Newspaper articles of missing people, bank statements, emails, and thousands of photos. Not just any photos, but gory shots post-death. My white-knuckled grip is the only thing confirming this is real and I’m not in some nightmare that I can’t escape.
Did my dad kill all these people?
“Breathe, love.”
Blaze soothes me as he unfurls my hands from the desk to hold them, rubbing soothing circles into the back of my hands. I take a shuddering breath and force myself to be numb so I can get through this. Once Blaze is convinced I’m not about to freak out and have another panic attack, he scrolls through the files.
“Your father has a lot of blood on his hands. His paper trail of crimes is longer thanWar and Peace.”
He says it matter-of-factly, but I hear the undercurrent of malice clinging to the words. He releases my hand and moves to another file, opening it. I see the bank statements but have no idea what it’s for.
“Money laundering, bribery, supplying weapons illegally, assault, theft, arson, kidnapping torture, abuse.Murder.”He spits the words out, and I flinch.
He rubs my arms in apology, soothing me. I don’t speak—I have no idea what to say. My mind is busy trying to put all the pieces together that make up the picture of my dad. Trying to understand that I’ve never truly known him at all.
It’s not hard to put the pieces together since he seemed to always get a kick out of hurting me, but to find out he’s capable of all those other things—murderingpeople—it doesn’t seem real. As if he can hear my thoughts, Blaze opens another image.
“Look at it, love. I need you to see what he’s done, what he’s capable of doing. What I need to protect you from.”
I force myself to focus on the screen. There, in full colour, is a photo taken from afar of my father in an empty warehouse, shooting the brains out of a man tied to a chair. The blood spatter from his head was caught in a perfectly timed snap of the camera.
I feel sick. I force air into my lungs and will it to pass. Blaze clicks out of the photo and back to the folder where he is scrolling. He opens a newspaper article this time and allows me to read it.
Missing mother of only child, Amélie Adurere. Last seen getting into her car outside the gas station on…
I’m pushing out of his hold and away from the desk, away from him. I put as much distance as I can between us as all the pieces of a hazy puzzle slotting together.
“Amélie?” I sob.
My mother’s best friend. She used to come around all the time when I was a child and they’d always be laughing together. They’d have picnics in the garden and bake an array of goodies. They would dance around the house to loud music when Dad was away on his business trips.
She had a son. A geeky boy who was shy and quiet. He’d watch me read when our mothers put us together and tried to force us to play. A boy who had dark hair that was always curling into his eyes, tall and thin like his limbs had grown before the rest of him had caught up.
Deep green eyes that pulled me in and exposed all of my secrets. Eyes like the man sat before me, no longer that awkward boy who finally spoke to me and would wipe my tears when I fell. The boy who hugged me after I told him about my parent’s arguments.
“Mikko.”
Chapter 26
I Was a Child
Blaze
