Probably I should be nervous, but I rush through the process of getting it this time, picking up the heavy package. I sigh with relief when I find that my brother is out when I get home.
This is another, unsafe thing I’m doing, and it’s thrilling.
Hopefully it’s not a bomb. That would serve me right, and Aaron would be so annoyed. And upset.
My heart races as I take the package to my bedroom. I don’t want Aaron accidentally walking in and seeing anything that’s private between Blake and me.
Wait.
Is there an “us”? A Blake and me?
Maybe it’s a figment of my imagination… But okay. It’s a really nice fiction. My favourite story to tell myself.
I open my phone, and consider what to say. This parcel he’s sent me reminds me even more of the fancy book promo boxes you see unwrapped on social media, which gives me an idea.
Do I dare…?
BunnytheKiller
Should I do an unboxing video for you?
The dots bounce immediately. Then stop. My stomach swoops with disappointment.
Then the phone vibrates, and excitement explodes in me again.
Blake is calling me.
My hand shakes as I press accept.
Blake’s face appears on the screen, and in the shock of seeing him, I just stare. His salt-and-pepper hair is messy, his cheek dark with stubble, and he’s wearing a pale-grey suit, white shirt, and forest-coloured tie.
His pale-green eyes gleam. “Bunny.”
I’m gazing into his face.
And at that moment, I realise he must be looking at me, too.
It’s a two-way video call to my selfie camera, not the forward-facing camera pointing at the box. I didn’t even think.
I squeak and smash the button to switch it around, so all he can see is the parcel he sent me. This is supposed to be anonymous.
In my eagerness to talk to him, I totally forgot to ensure I was on the correct camera. I’ve lost my whole mind.
“So, what have we here.” My voice is only audible to dogs as I try to ignore that I just showed Blake my face.
“Not half as pretty as the previous view,” he rumbles, his brows lowering with disapproval.
A blush heats my cheeks. Is he saying I’m pretty? Do I like that?
“Especially if it’s a severed head,” I say lightly.
“I think you’ll enjoy this authentic mafia experience, Bunny.”
“Mmm.” The sound is sceptical. His assurance makes me even more wary. “I have lots of mafia experience,” I lie as I run the scissors along the tape that holds the box shut.
“You haven’t had this, I promise,” he replies with laughter in his voice.
Inside, there’s tissue paper again, and a small box laid on it. It’s sturdy, with the weight of luxury as I lift it out. This man is rich, I remind myself. A mafia boss, used to having his own way.
