by Anita Gray
“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.”
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 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 Maksim, “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 inhales, 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. “And 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, little Blaire.” He's mocking me. He lowers his tone when he says, 'little Blaire'.
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 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 has to 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—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 push 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 go back intact, I don't know. He knows Charlie and what Charlie is capable of. Hell, Charlie has managed to tap into me and my desires, and I'm like a fucking ice queen.
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 spilt 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... they're 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.
“What is it?” He's glancing between all my features. It's quite flattering the way he looks at me, as if he sees only me.
“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 a brown leather jacket, 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 jacket, slipping it up my arms.
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.
He pulls out my hair and drapes it down my back.
“I want my gun before we leave,” I say, zipping up my jacket 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, his eyes flittering between mine, then he snaps, “You're mad if you actually believe I'll let you loose around me with a pistol.”
It seems he wants to control everything about me—even my safety.
“Charlie,” I sigh out his name, running my fingers through my hair, “
I can't live like this for three months. 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'd you think I took it from you in the first place, hm? I don't trust you.”
Like I give a shit if he trusts me or not.
I reach past him for the door handle. “I don't need you to be asleep to shoot you.” I tug the door open, 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 barge 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 this 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 crumpling 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 me 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, and 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 haven'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, 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 attain 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, and 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 him, holding the steering wheel in 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 something...
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, oh, 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 at him, glancing away.
“Anyway,” 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, and I don't know what happens inside me, 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; seems 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 the 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. We need to get a move on.”
I want to tell him that I was nervous, that he didn't need to drug me because if Maksim said so, I would have come with him, but I won't get any more out of him. SoI put the car in gear and pull out of the wide driveway, between tall electric gates that open on command.
I fleetingly wonder if he is using me to get back at Maksim. It doesn't feel like he is. The way he looks at me and kisses me... I feel like he genuinely likes me. But perhaps I'm just green to men of his standards.
I don't know.
He really confuses me.
———
We don't talk much on the drive to West Sussex, bar Charlie telling me to “Take a left; get off on that motorway; turn right.” We just watch the city landscape change to farming fields and acres of flourishing green land packed with sheep. I suppose there isn't much to say, really. He got what he wanted last night and I'm safe from his sexual desires for a while.
It takes about two hours for us to arrive at our destination, but we arrive when the Albanians expect us—two o'clock on the dot.
“Let me do all the talking,” Charlie says, tucking a gun into the back of his jeans.
“Do you think I'm stupid?” He should know by now that I don't usually speak unless spoken to. I only talk back to him. I just now ponder over why I have the guts to do that.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I shake it off.
“Blaire...” he elongates, “if I ask you a question I expect you to answer me... please?”
I sigh, blinking down, then back up at him. “I'm just wondering why I talk back to you when I wouldn't dream of doing it to anyone else.”
Sitting back, he grips the handbrake, watching me in quiet muse.
“Maybe because I don't order your silence. Maybe you feel comfortable around me.”
I laugh mordantly. “Comfortable? Really?”
“Well,
as you said,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “apart from me, you've not dreamed of speaking before being spoken to, yet, you've never questioned yourself with me.”
The idea isn't lost on me. Staring at him staring at me, I mull it over, annoyed that he might be right. Even at Rumo's poker game, I indulged Charlie... spoke to him... I lied to Maksim when he asked what Charlie and I had talked about after I bested James. I've never lied to Maksim before. I've never spoken to anyone like I do Charlie before, and I don't even know him.
“Don't think about it too much,” Charlie's raspy voice breaks through the silence. “I like that you prefer this rather than the obedient dog Maksim has trained you to be.”
“How do you know I prefer this?”
“Don't you?” He raises his eyebrows, locking us in a moment.
I can't tell if he's manipulating me or not. I just can't read Charlie.
“You're trying to get in my head,” I say through gritted teeth.
“No, Blaire,” he says softly, looking between my eyes. “I just want to know you, that's all.”
“Why though?” I ask with clear frustration. “Why do you even want me? You could have any woman you want—a woman who doesn't resist you,” I add with sarcasm.
“You'll soon give into wanting me too. It's the law of attraction.”
It's like he just slapped me around the face. I will admit, I do fancy him. I just hate how he makes me feel.
“That doesn't explain why you're doing this to me.” I peer down at myself, mystified, then back up at him. “I'm not your type—not like those girls at Maksim's party. I'm not what you want, not really...” I go on and on. Don't ask where my audacity has come from, but I just can't seem to stop the verbal diarrhea. I need to know why.
Reaching over, Charlie flicks down the sun visor and opens the mirror.
I scowl between him and my haunting reflection.
“What?” I say, still scowling.
He looks at me in mocking fondness, as if he knows I don't get his point, then climbs out of the car before I have a chance to ask anything more.