by Box Set
I think I whimper in his mouth, anxious, struck by his question. I can’t live like this for three months, wondering, drowning in anxiety, and unwillingly wanting. I need to know what the days have in store for me. I need to know how bad it's going to get.
“Don't be frightened,” Charlie whispers again. He grips the back of my neck with one hand and holds me there, his other arm still wrapped around my back.
“Charlie,” I tremble out his name, visibly anxious, “what are you going to do to me now?”
He glances between my eyes, his alight with ardor. “Nothing. I just want to kiss you.”
I'm so relieved that I know he can feel my body going slack with relief.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks once more, taking my mouth in another deep kiss.
I want to tell him it was agony because that is after all what men like, isn't it? To inflict pain on girls? I don't tell him that though. I shake my head, being honest. It wasn't that bad. I've suffered far, far worse.
“Good,” he says softly, pecking the edge of my mouth. “I didn't want to hurt you.”
I frown at him, and he pecks my mouth again. He said he was going to do terrible things to me, didn't he?
“What did you mean when you said that I might be the only girl you won't hit?” My courage to ask that comes from nowhere.
The way he smiles at me causes my stomach to flip.
“I like you,” he says sincerely. “A lot more than I thought I would.”
Something vibrates in his jeans pocket against my thigh. Without breaking away from me, he shifts to hold me in one arm, squashing my breasts to his hard chest. He reaches into his jeans pocket and pulls out his phone. Then answers it against my mouth while still kissing me. “What?”
Now, it feels really intimate with him being on the phone, unable to stop having his fill of me.
Charlie utters a few words amid pecking me, while I'm cupping his face in both my hands, kissing him back. Then I hear someone say something about arranging a meeting on Maksim's behalf.
My heart drops into my stomach.
Why would he be arranging a meeting on Maksim's behalf?
Charlie presses another kiss to my lips, then he says, “Two o'clock is fine.” And he hangs up, shoving his phone away.
“Why are you talking about Maksim?” I pull away from him, but I don't get far because his arm is still around my waist.
I grip his shoulders, wishing he'd put me down.
“I'm paying the Albanians a visit.” He doesn't teeter about telling me, which surprises me.
“The Albanians?”
That girl who got fucked at the Prince's party springs to mind.
“Yeah,” Charlie says. Using his free hand, he tucks my hair back over my shoulder, really looking at me through heavy blue eyes. “Maksim is having a few issues with them, so I agreed to sort it.”
“Maksim is having problems, and he went to you instead of me?!” I'm affronted. I cannot believe this.
I push against Charlie's chest, forcing him to drop me on my feet, and crane my neck all the way back to look up at him. “Why has he come to you and not me?”
“They're a little outa your league, Señorita.” Pressing one hand against the wall beside my face, he cages me in, towering over me.
“Out of my league?” I ask, glowering, my body getting hot because he's doing this weird primal proximity thing. “What does that mean?”
Glancing between my eyes, he smiles at me. It's such a gorgeous smile that I can't stop my heart from beating a little faster.
“They're quite dangerous.” He wipes across my upper lip with his thumb, as if he doesn't give a shit about what we're talking about. Then he kisses me once more. He seems solely focused on me. “Too dangerous for one small girl.”
I laugh sarcastically, folding my arms over my chest. “You actually believe that you bested me with ease, don't you, Charlie?”
He doesn't answer me, but he thinks just that. It’s in his meditated stare and his cunning, lax smile.
“Well, understand this, I put up a little bit of a fight in moments because my heart is in war with my head”—I put a finger to my temple—“not because I'm weaker than you. So when you have your way with me, know it's because I let you under Maksim's wishes. Nothing more.”
“Is that right?”
“You bet it is,” I speak through clenched teeth. “I do whatever Maksim says. I'm only here because he wants me to be here.”
Charlie hunches down, putting us face to face. “And if Maksim told you to come home right now?”
I point at the space between us, feeling like myself again. “I'd kick your ass if you didn't let me go, then I'd leave.”
“You really do think you could beat me in a fight, don't you?”
“Oh, I don't think. I know.”
“Silly chica.” He chuckles, standing back and crossing his arms. “Maybe one day”—he cocks his head—“we'll get in the ring and battle it out.”
“Name the time and the place.” I'm so sure I'll beat him that I want him to say, right here, right now. He doesn't, of course. He's just looking at me like he's gently taking off my clothes. My cheeks get hot, so I stare down at the floor. “I'll come with you to meet with the Albanians, if you don't mind. You might find me useful.”
He scoffs, insulted. “Maksim might have no shame in having a tiny girl on his security detail, but I do.”
“Shame?” Glaring up at him, I cross my arms again, mimicking his pose. “I took you on, and almost vanquished you, might I add.”
He flashes the filthiest smirk, reaches out, and gently pinches my chin. “Almost.”
I pull my chin out of his grasp. He starts chuckling again. His cheekbones are clearly defined with that large smile.
“I'm not surprised Maksim sees you as his trophy. That lucky motherfucker has had you for far too long.”
“Charlie,” I say softly, thinking about my master, “I want to avoid any intimate conversations with you, if you don't mind.”
“I do mind, actually,” he says, his voice taking a dark edge. “Over the next three months, I plan on knowing you inside out.”
My chest tightens because I have a horrible feeling he isn't going to tire of me.
He exhales, like he's sighing. “If you have some breakfast, you can come with me.”
“What?” I'm so astonished he just gave in like that, I gawp at him.
He nods. “On one condition.”
“What condition?”
“You have to stay behind me if any trouble breaks out.”
I scowl at him, confused.
“I don't want you getting hurt on my watch, Señorita.” He's mocking me. He lowers his tone when he says, Señorita.
I snort at him. “Maybe I'll kick the Albanians' asses before kicking yours. That ought to shut you up.”
———
Before we leave for the Albanians, Charlie brings me a plate of warm scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of orange juice on a silver tray.
I'm so pissed off by how easily he makes me enjoy what he does to me that I hesitate to take it from him. He raises his eyebrows, but I continue looking at him in wrath, wanting to punch him again. Maybe if I fuck up his face, I won't find him so attractive—because that must be the reason why I respond to him so easily, right? It's physical?
“You can always stay here,” he says, reminding me of his ultimatum to eat, or stay here. “It's no bother to me either way.”
Simmering inside, I snatch the tray from him. The orange juice almost spills over but he's quick to grab the glass, steadying it on the tray. He tells me to take it easy, but I'm not really listening to him. Glancing over the tray, I wonder how he knows I like eggs for breakfast—and scrambled eggs for that matter. Did Maksim tell him?
“What's wrong?” he asks.
I don't like to assume they've spoken about me, that's what's wrong. It's too weird, given what Charlie wants me for.
Holding the tray in both hands, I p
ush past him. He sighs but I don't let it affect me. Hopefully, if I keep on like this and refuse to indulge him, he'll tire of me. I can't live like this for three months. He's going to ruin me. How Maksim thinks I'll come back intact, I don't know.
Sitting on the foot of the bed, I shift to get comfortable in these jeans while Charlie gets all domesticated and cleans up the broken coffee cup, using a dustpan and brush to sweep up the splinters. Now I wish I threw it across the room to really put him to work.
I'm laughing before I can stop myself. Charlie glances up at me, pulling his thick eyebrows together. Avoiding his stare and trying to stop laughing, I grab the glass of orange juice. It's sweet and refreshing, cool as it pours down my throat. I then dig into my breakfast. The eggs are nice, fluffy and seasoned right.
Did he cook this?
That makes me feel a bit weird. I can't recall a time when anyone ever made me food. Maksim used to feed me bread and water when he was conditioning me as a kid, but I wouldn't exactly call that making food.
Charlie mops up the spilled coffee and disappears with the bucket for about five minutes, then he returns and sits beside me, making the bed dip. I'm so aware of his closeness that my skin pricks, and my nipples are like fucking bullets. I'm not sure that I don't like being so close to him. How bizarre is that?
I try to focus on eating, but I can't shift this personal feeling of him watching me. It's so strong.
I peek up at him, a question in my eyes.
He's glancing between all my features. It's quite flattering the way he looks at me, as if he sees only me. “What is it?” he says softly.
“Where are my clothes and trainers, Charlie?” I put down the fork and pinch the jeans I'm wearing. “I don't like wearing jeans.”
He half smiles, gently pushing my hair back over my shoulder with one hand. “I'll get your things if you want them.”
I look down at the food on my lap and pick at the toast with my fingers. He's got those weird dark vibes going on. I've noticed how his aura changes when he wants to kiss me, or worse.
“What else do you like other than eggs, Blaire?”
I lift my shoulders. “I'm not fussy. I'll eat anything.”
“I didn't ask if you're fussy. I said what do you like other than eggs. What would you usually eat at home?”
I definitely want to punch him, especially when he speaks to me like this. I'm not a fucking child.
I don't find his gaze again. I eat the rest of my eggs, keeping my eyes down. “I don't know, chicken, vegetables, potatoes.”
Nothing more is said about what food I like. Charlie sits with me until I finish off my breakfast. Then he stands and takes the tray from my lap. I look up at him, and of course he's staring at me. He's always staring at me, intrigued or something.
“Meet me downstairs in ten minutes”—he gestures with the tray—“I'll clean this up and then we'll head off.”
I nod, glad that he's taking me with him. Someone has to look out for Maksim because I doubt Charlie is. He has other intentions. I know it.
13
Charlie and I shrug into our jackets by the double front doors. He's wearing brown leather, and I have to admit, he looks good in it, especially with his black hair curling around his features. He looks dangerous and rugged.
“Here, let me get that.” He helps me into my own jacket, slipping it up my arms before pulling out my hair and draping it down my back.
I want to stop him but why bother? Unless I want him making my life hell for the next three months, I need to find some common ground with him.
“I want my gun before we leave,” I say, zipping up and facing him.
“Yeah, all right.” He chuckles, grabbing a set of car keys from a cupboard on the wall by the doors.
“I'm serious.” I stare at him without blinking. “I want my gun.”
He's quietly looking at me, with his eyes flittering between mine. Then he snaps, “You're mad if you actually believe I'll let you around me with a pistol.”
“Ugh, Charlie,” I sigh out his name, running my fingers through my hair, feeling as though he wants to control everything about me—even my safety. “I can't live like this for three months,” I say. “You're too intense.”
His eyebrows shoot up.
“There has to be some kind of mutual respect between us, otherwise, I'd rather you and Maksim fall out, and I go back to my old life.” I shrug. “It's your choice.”
“You can't decide that.”
Slowly and softly, I say, “I can. I'll just pay for it.”
He grinds his jaw, and now he's glaring at me. “You'll put a bullet in my head while I sleep if I give you back your gun. Why do you think I took it from you in the first place, hmm? I don't trust you.”
Like I give a shit if he trusts me or not.
“I don't need you to be asleep to shoot you.” I reach past him and tug open one of the front doors, allowing in a rush of cold air. “I'll be waiting outside. Bring my gun. I don't feel safe without it.”
When I walk past him, I shove him with my shoulder. He huffs, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.
Exiting the house, I jog down the porch steps, immediately noticing Charlie has a fetish—for cars I mean. There's a black Mercedes, a red Ferrari, two Range Rovers—one in black and the other in white—and an old red sports car. They're all parked on the right side of the stony driveway, under a wall of climbing white flowers.
Who needs this many cars?
“I must be crazy giving this back to you,” Charlie says from behind.
Pivoting, I take my gun from him. It's cold and heavy. It's my safety blanket.
“Blaire,” he says my name gravely, giving me his hardest stare, “I'm only gonna warn you once. If you ever pull that gun on me again”—he points a finger in my face—“I'll put you down. Is that clear?”
I nod, unbothered. I don't plan on using my gun on him. I only used the fantasy of it last night to scare him, which failed immensely.
Closing his eyes, he lets out a deep breath. He's uneasy about me having a weapon. Good.
“Let's go,” he says. “We have to be in West Sussex by two.”
The black Range Rover flashes to signal it's open, so I head for it, my feet crunching against the driveway.
“Do you want me to drive?” I tuck my gun away in my inside jacket pocket and zip myself up again.
Charlie throws the keys without question, and I catch them in steady hands.
“I suppose this mutual respect has to start somewhere.” He winks at me—actually winks at me. It makes my cheeks warm up.
What is it with him and that dark alluring thing he's got going on? Even Maksim doesn't affect me on this level.
I jump into the driver's seat and press the button to fire up the vibrating engine. For a moment, just a quick moment, I wonder if Charlie has spoken to Maksim. If he's told him that I pulled a gun on him.
I'm petrified that he has. Maksim will beat me half to death for provoking Charlie, the man he clearly fears.
“Blaire?” Charlie says from beside me. I hadn't even noticed him getting into the car. “What's wrong?”
I realize I'm frozen, squeezing the wheel of the car so hard that my knuckles are white.
“Have you spoken to Maksim today?”
He shakes his head, pulling on his seatbelt. “I'll be seeing him next weekend. And don't worry, Señorita, I won't tell him you tried to shoot me.”
The relief of hearing him say that is comforting. I sag in my seat, letting out a breath.
“Is that what you're worried about?” he asks, touching my arm to gain my attention.
I shrug. It's obvious I was worried.
“Blaire, listen”—he gives my arm a gentle squeeze—“I know this isn't exactly conventional, the way I've taken you from Maksim. I know you're having a hard time. But soon you'll see that you can trust me. Whatever happens between us is our business. Not Maksim's.”
“I'll have to tell him when I see
him, you know?” I twist at the waist to face Charlie, holding the steering wheel with one hand. “He'll ask what we've been up to.”
“That's on you.” Turning up his lips, he shrugs. “As far as I'm concerned, this is our private business.”
“It's not that private when Maksim gave you permission to drug and abuse me.” I sound bitter, but I am. He's twisting my mind, making me take pleasure in things I shouldn't, kissing me like he's in love with me or whatever.
I don't even know why I'm talking to him like this, as if I know him on a personal level. It pisses me off royally.
“Blaire, ohhh, Blaire.” Reaching over, Charlie grabs the back of my seat, giving me his full attention, “Whether Maksim gave me permission to take you or not, I'd have taken you because I wanted you.”
I frown at him, fighting not to react to that consuming look in his eyes.
“He isn't the boss of me, as I'm sure you've noticed.”
I huff, glancing away.
“Anyhow,” he says, lightly tugging on a strand of my hair, making me look back at him, “regardless of all that, as far as my intimacy with you goes, it's our business.”
I don't reply to that.
In silence, we gaze at each other, Charlie’s blue eyes pacing back and forth between mine. I don't know what happens, but I feel a sense of privacy between us. I actually believe he won't tell anyone about what he's doing to me. It isn't like Maksim can force information out of him. It's Charlie who has all the power.
“All right?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
After a while of thinking, and holding back a million questions, I nod, trusting him like the fucking idiot I am. It's not even forced trust, I just do.
“Can I ask you one more thing, Charlie?”
He tips his head, seeming a little surprised. “Sure you can.”
“Why did you let me talk to him, on the phone last night?” I have to know this at least. “You said you didn't want us having any contact until you're done with me, so why?”
“You looked too nervous for my liking—more nervous than I anticipated you'd be—and I knew that if you spoke to him, you'd be okay.” He gestures out the window screen like he's averting from my question. “C'mon, Señorita. We need to get a move on.”