13
When I open my eyes, it’s morning.
Blushing sunshine streams in through the gaps in the curtains, across the polished wooden floors. My cheek itches, pressed to Charlie’s chest. We’re in bed. I’m sprawled out on top of his warm body as if we haven’t moved an inch from last night, but I know we have moved. The sheets feel different. The blanket draped over my waist is rougher with a square cotton pattern. He smells freshly showered, too, with his natural musk toning a soapy fragrance.
He’s playing with lengths of my hair, making my scalp tickle. His other hand is tucked under the blanket, fingers tracing a few scars on my back. Strangely, it doesn’t bother me that he’s touching my scars. That’s when I notice I feel different. More...relaxed and easy.
I croak to clear my raw throat, lifting my head to look at him through squinting, puffy eyes. Dawn glows on his handsome, bronze face, scorching in his blue eyes. His stubble is shorter, shading his square jawline.
So, he’s had a shower, a mild shave, and changed the bedding, all without stirring me last night?
It’s crazy how comfortable I am in his presence.
“Morning, baby.” His raspy, Latino voice breaks the serene silence, and my eyes drop to his mouth, watching him speak. “Feeling better?”
I nod with embarrassment. I can’t believe he nearly suffocated me while screwing me.
“What time is it?” I untie my feet from around his, internally wincing. I’m sore and swollen between my legs.
He stops playing with my hair and reaches over for his big silver watch on the side cabinet. “Just past six,” he says, dropping his watch. “Why?”
I need to call Robert, that’s why. It’s D-day. James is still missing, so I will have to go back soon.
The thought turns my stomach inside out with dread.
“No reason.” I lie back down, sighing, hating that I might have to leave today. I really, really don’t want to go. I like being with Charlie. “How long have I been asleep?”
“You slept the whole night away. But that’s okay.” His warm lips press to my forehead. “You obviously needed it. You are still recovering.”
“Hmmm,” I hum, blinking sleepily. A few moments longer really won’t matter. I’ll get up soon to call Robert.
“Are you sore, Blaire?”
“Sore?”
“Yeah. Does your pussy hurt?”
My eyes enlarge with last night vividly flashing in my mind: the seizure of orgasms he forced me to endure. I open to speak but words don’t form on my tongue.
“Blaire?”
“Erm...yes, I’m a little sore,” I say.
“I’m not surprised, chica. Your pussy is as tight as your perfect little ass.”
“Have you been asleep all night, too?” I say in a rush, to steer the conversation away from my humiliation. My cheeks are baking.
“No, I haven’t been asleep all night.” He chuckles, amused by my embarrassment. “I had supper, took a shower, changed the sheets, and watched you sleep.”
He watched me sleep? That’s weird.
“How did you change the sheets while I was in bed?” I’m curious about how he moved me without waking me.
“Hmm, well, you’re very tiny and easy to move,” he teases, tickling my nose with a piece of my hair. “I set you up on the couch so you were near me while I ate.”
“You should have woken me, Charlie.”
“You looked so young and sweet, I couldn’t.”
I arch a brow, looking up at him. “You say that like it’s a facade, me looking young and sweet.”
“It is, isn’t it?” He grins, reaching under the blanket with both hands to tickle me like crazy. “It’s a little trick of yours, tramposa.”
“Charlie!” I squeal and giggle, wiggling about to escape his fingers digging in my ribs. “Charlie! No, stop!” Tears of pleasurable pain swim in my eyes, and moving about so rigorously hurts my sex. But it feels good to laugh.
My bladder screams for release. I panic to unfold myself from around Charlie before I pee myself. I stand off the bed, noticing there’s something dry and sticky between my legs, matted in the fine pubic hair.
Charlie leans up on one elbow, dark locks dripping over his eyes. He frowns at me. “Where are you going?”
“I need the toilet,” I say, hugging my naked breasts as I jog into the bathroom. I feel him watching me, eyes boring into my scarred, naked back as my hair flicks from side to side. I pull the sliding doors closed for some privacy, flip the latch, and lower onto the toilet.
When I’m done, I snag some tissue paper to wipe myself dry, stomach churning at the sight of blood soaking through. I know there’s nothing wrong. Whenever Maksim used to fuck virgins, they all bled. But still, it’s gross.
I try not to look at it.
I flush and wash up at the vanity sinks, splashing my face and under my arms—until I see my reflection in the mirror. It’s...extremely savage. My freckles are in place, skin still ghostly white. But I’m covered in circular bruises from the heart of my throat, through my breasts, over my navel to my pubic line. There are dark fingerprint marks on my neck from where Charlie strangled me, too, and my breasts are so sensitive, covered in purple blotches. I touch them one by one, pressing the soft flesh with my fingers to feel how tender every mark is.
Charlie said he’s always wanted to bruise my skin. I want to know why, but at the same time, I’m too nervous to ask.
Trying to ignore the state of my body, I wash Charlie’s cum from between my legs, splashing water and soap all over the place. My sex lips are thicker, and my entrance is burning like a motherfucker. I hold my hands under the icy flow, recoiling as his seed swirls down the plughole with streaks of red. My virginity.
That’s probably why I feel so different today. My virginity is finally gone. All those months of Charlie and Maksim battling for it, and now it’s just gone.
I couldn’t be happier.
“Blaire, shall we get dressed and go down for breakfast? After, we’ll take a bath, yeah?”
A bath with Charlie? Yes, please.
“Sure,” I say aloud so he can hear me. I can hold off on asking to call Robert for a while longer. If I must leave today, at least I’ll know I made every moment with Charlie count. “I’m coming.”
“I have an email I need you to translate for me, too, if you will? Nic needs it done urgently.” The sliding doors shake on their hinges as Charlie tugs on the handles. “Why have you locked the doors?”
“I’m just cleaning up,” I say, flicking my hands dry. “And sure, I’ll translate the—”
“Unlock the doors, now,” Charlie cuts me off, whacking the pane.
I twist the squeaky faucet to shut off the water flow and unlock the sliding doors. Charlie yanks them open and casts a wary glance around the bathroom, focusing for too long on the mirrored cabinet above the sink. His eyes land on me, and he frowns, studying my face.
He’s wearing a pair of well-fitted jeans, tanned boots, and a red, v-neck sweater, plus a silver watch clasped around his left wrist. Red is his color. It stands out well against his bronze skin, and the contrast of his inky hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.
“What are you doing?” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. I feel exposed being naked when he’s fully dressed.
“Why did you lock the doors?”
I scowl. “I just told you, I was washing up.”
“You’ve been here a week and have never locked the doors before.” He strolls in past me, checking in the bath tub and near the toilet. I follow him with my eyes, wondering what the fuck he’s doing. His back muscles bunch under his sweater, evidence of his suddenly edgy mood.
He comes back up to me, scrutinizing my face again.
“What are you looking for?”
“Don’t lock the doors anymore, Blaire,” he points in my face, “and I mean it.”
“Why?”
“Because...” he says. “I just told you so.”
He just told me so, huh?
I cross my arms and tilt my head, squaring up to him. “Maksim used to let me have the privacy of locking the door when I peed, you know?”
His jaw twitches, as do the muscles in his chest. He’s annoyed, but I don’t care. I won’t have this, him dominating his control over me.
“What do you think I’m doing, Charlie? Raiding your medicine cabinet for drugs?”
He doesn’t confirm or deny my mockery, and my eyes flash with madness.
“You do think that?!”
“No, I just...after Andres...”
“I am not your damn brother! I would never willingly take drugs!” I narrow a finger at the space between us, angry that my hand is shaking. “I’m not that kind of person. I don’t even like drinking alcohol because it impairs the mind, so how dare you accuse me of...”
He doesn’t say anything, and it pisses me off royally, like he doesn’t believe me or something.
“Fuck you,” I hiss. “Go eat breakfast and have a bath by yourself, and find someone else to translate your damn email.” I shoulder him out of the way, knocking him back a step. He snatches at my wrist, but I spin around and shove him up against the tiled wall, one arm anchored over his chest. “Stop with the dominance, Charlie. I won’t stand for it,” I warn with head tipped back, so we’re staring right at each other. “I’m not your toy at your disposal to control. You can’t stop me from locking doors, and you definitely can’t grab me up, so just stop.”
He starts to argue but pauses, the vein in his forehead pumping. I won’t back down from this. I’m not one of his past passives. And the only person who could ever control me was Maksim, and he’s dead.
Governing the tension, a loud buzzing comes from the closet and both our heads whip in that direction. Charlie grunts, evidently recognizing what it is. I step back, examining him. He touches his mouth and flexes his fingers as if trying to hide his physical reaction to the noise.
“What is that?”
He doesn’t reply to my question and steam practically blows out of my ears.
“Charlie, answer me. What the hell is that?”
He side-glances me, sighing to say, “It’s the cell phone you had in the bag.”
———
Dread consumes me like an abyss, swallowing me whole without mercy.
I panic telling Charlie to get me that mobile phone while my head whizzes between him and the closet.
He tries to calm my nerves by swearing it’s okay, sidestepping me every time I try to go around him. “You’ll call them back, say Maksim’s body will be here in five days, and everything will be all right, Blaire. Just relax before you make yourself sick.”
“It won’t be all right!” I yell, storming around to pace the bathroom. I rake my fingers through my hair and pull at the strands, horrified. “I-I was told to call in a week. They never said they’d call me! Something must’ve happened. Has the phone buzzed before today? Has it been more than a week since I came back?”
“No, baby, it’s a week to the day.” Charlie grabs my arm and pulls me close, ignoring my resistance. “Hush now. Just calm down.” His strong arms wrap around me, using one of his hands to stroke up and down my back, soothing my anxiety. It’s working. The tension drains away, and I lean into his warmth with my forehead on his chest, melting against his body.
But then the buzzing rings out again and I feel sick, stomach churning to heave.
“Something bad has happened. They’re going to hurt James...I know it!”
“They won’t,” Charlie insists, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Believe me, they won’t harm him beyond what he can handle. He’s all the leverage they have on you.”
I frown in his chest, thinking he could be right. If Robert kills James, there’s nothing to stop me from going after him. And I will go after him. I will hammer that motherfucker to the wall before taking him apart with a meat cleaver.
Charlie lets me go and disappears into the closet, leaving me standing here cold and exposed by myself, drowning in dark ideas of what Robert could be doing to James right now: whipping him or raping him, just like Maksim used to. It is unlikely Robert would kill him. But torturing someone is worse than killing them. I know. It lasts longer, and the after effects are dramatic.
I cover my face with both hands, out of my element. I don’t panic. Maksim conditioned the emotion out of me.
Charlie conditioned it back into you.
The fact makes me angry. Charlie makes me angry—sometimes. Before him, situations like this were child’s play to me. Now, they’re my living hell.
From in the closet, I again hear numerous electronic beeps. I figure it’s a vault or something, where Charlie had my bracelet and where he’s been hiding the phone Robert gave me. I’m just about to stalk up behind him to see for sure, but he returns, clothes in hand. He rushes to dress me in a black suede outfit: saggy joggers that he double ties at the waist so they don’t fall down, a matching oversized hoodie, and new trainers.
“Right, listen to me, Blaire”—standing up straight, he cups my face in large hands and makes me look up at him, at the severity of his eyes—“you will call and tell them I’ve only just agreed to lift the sanctions. You couldn’t ask for Maksim’s body before today because I’ve been proving difficult on the sanctions alone.” I nod with everything he says, barely registering. I just need the phone. I just need to make sure James is okay.
Charlie has me reiterate the plan, and I do—or, I try to. I can’t help stuttering.
“Focus!” he bites out, trying to mentor me, shaking my head in his hold to command my resolve. “Focus, and tell me what you have to say.”
I grip his wrists, battling with my composure to slow down. My words come out clearer, in order. I go over it all, adding, “And it’s going to take five days to fly Maksim’s body back from Mexico, right?”
“That’s it. Good girl.” He forces a smile, preserving his worry. “Now, stay calm, make the call, and then it’s done, all right? Don’t get yourself worked up.”
I nod a couple of times, taking the phone he passes. It weighs a ton in my hand; the pivotal factor of everything. I dash out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and out onto the balcony top. I can’t risk Charlie listening in, so I yank the doors shut, catching a glimpse of him exiting the room.
My composure evaporates the second he’s gone. I fiddle with my mouth, picking at my lips.
Don’t panic.
I tell myself it’s okay, looking out over the balcony railing to train my thoughts. The only thing that makes me happy and calm is Charlie, so I conjure up phantom images of us sitting out here, arm in arm lounging on the rattan couch. It’s a chilly spring morning, white mist hovering above the grass. We’re sipping coffee, enjoying each other’s silence.
My heart hurts at the idea. I let my head hang. This is all I want, easy happiness and Charlie. How hard must I fight to get it and keep it?
The phone buzzes in my hand, and I nearly drop it, fumbling to swipe the screen to answer. Exotic music beats in the background when I put the speaker to my ear, tangled with eastern European accents.
“Sekret,” I whisper, frowning to listen.
“Blaire?” Robert drawls over the background music.
“Yes.”
“Oh, good. I was wondering when you were going to call and explain why Charlie Decena butchered my men.”
How does he know that?
As if reading my mind, Robert confesses Charlie called to gloat about skinning his minions. “Lucky I had a secret password attached to this number, isn’t it? Lucky I have ensured your loyalty, isn’t it?”
I’m not surprised Charlie called to torment him. If the tables were turned, I would have done the same.
“He took the phone upon my arrival,” I say, glancing in the bedroom through the balcony doors. Empty. “He must’ve chanced calling to see if you’d speak.” I don’t bother offering an explanation as to why his men are dead, or an apology. What did he expect when his lackeys delivered me to the leader of the Los Zetas house? Coffee and cake? They know Charlie is armed up to the eyeballs with men and weapons. They must’ve known they were as good as dead.
“Hmmm, sounds plausible.” Robert grumbles, waffling on about his men and how sad he is that they’re gone. “No matter. I’ll just add the treachery to the list of reasons why Charlie Decena deserves to die.”
A channel of darkness comes over me, lips coiling against my teeth. He can try to kill Charlie, but he’ll need to go through me first.
“Your week is up, girl, so fill me in. I don’t have long, so make it quick.”
Suits me.
I repeat all Charlie told me to say, including the fact that Maksim’s body will be here in five days. “He’s being flown back from Mexico.” The thought suddenly petrifies me. I wonder if I’ll see him. I wonder how I’ll feel if I see him.
Ashamed, probably. Anxious. Scared.
“Ahhh, you work quickly. Good—no, amazing work!” The background music fades like he’s covering the speaker. “What about the sanctions?”
“He’s going to lift them.”
“Perfect!” he shouts with glee, gobbling up our bullshit. “Ohhh, I should send you out on missions more often. You’re more efficient than half of my men.”
His arrogant stupidity surprises me. Doesn’t he realize my mission has only been accomplished because Charlie loves me? If he were anyone else, I’d have had to battle to get the sanctions lifted and retrieve Maksim’s body. It wouldn’t have been this easy.
Robert is chuckling to no ends, buttering himself in endearments. “I am happy. Very, very happy, Blaire. See what happens when one has a good leader, yes?”
I snort. Mudak.
“Now, run along and tell Decena you are leaving, that you will return in five days to collect Maksim’s body.”
“What?!” I gasp down the speaker, irrationally angry and terrified simultaneously. “But, why can’t I stay here until—”
“Do you want me to tell James why you can’t stay there until Maksim’s body arrives? I’m certain you understand how the message will be translated.”
I shut my eyes in defeat, heart breaking at the mere thought of leaving Charlie again. I already suspected this might happen, but hearing it...
“Didn’t think so,” Robert says, ordering me to meet his men at an address in the London Docks at four o’clock this afternoon. “Do you know the place?”
“I’m certain I can find it.”
“Excellent! Ohhh, this girl is just brilliant,” he says to someone in his company, adding that he will introduce us when I’ve returned. “I will see you shortly thereafter four o’clock, to welcome my most esteemed operative.”
“Sure,” I say, sounding conquered. “Whatever.”