28
Charlie and I drive back to the house in his Range Rover, and I’m brooding in the passenger seat, nervous about how we go forward from here.
He’s made it perfectly clear that he wants more from me—he wants in my mind—but I’m not sure how I can give him what he needs. I don’t even know where to start. Do I just come out with it and divulge my life with Maksim, every sordid detail and every sordid trick, or should I wait until he asks again? How do people even begin conversations like that anyhow?
My mind should be firmly on James and getting him back, but it’s not, and I hate that it’s not. Charlie has gotten under my skin in the worst way, consuming my every thought.
My eyes flicker to him behind the wheel; his powerful outline shaded by the night. As he steers up to the gates of the house, they buzz open, and I look onward at my home. It’s in its most beautiful form, every window gleaming in the night. From this angle, it looks perfect—as I’m sure we do on the outside. But the outer surface of everything is just a facade. It’s what lies beneath that reveals depth, danger, and darkness, something I know all too well. People only need to remove my clothes to see my scars.
I look away when Charlie catches me staring, picking at a frayed piece of material on my hoodie sleeve. I am a little uncomfortable in his presence right now. He hasn’t said a word to me since demanding I give him headspace when he needs it. He sent numerous messages on his phone to shut down the debauched party at his safe house, as he didn’t want me to see any more than I already had. Upon confirmation that the party was dead, we exited the safe house through a herd of Los Zetas—who were all desperate to shake their leader’s hand. On our way, Charlie snapped at Nic to get rid of that girl I killed. No salutation. No physical gesture. He was as blunt as a blade, livid that Nic brought me here tonight, I presume. The eldest Decena didn’t utter a word back, just nodded. I sort of feel bad for him. He only did what I asked—or demanded. Wasn’t like he had another choice; I was going to go find Charlie with or without his help.
“What are you thinking about, Blaire?” Charlie’s deep voice impales our silence in the car, and he gazes left at me with lazy, hooded eyes. Stoned eyes.
I shrug, but he presses me for an answer, so I ask if he’s angry at Nic.
“I don’t know,” he says honestly, pulling up outside the house. “He knew never to take you to the safe house unless we were under attack. That place is full of perverted monsters—they’re not even allowed near the house because you’re here.”
“I made him take me,” I say with a shrug. “I wanted to see you, Charlie, and I wasn’t accepting no for an answer.”
He sighs, looking between my eyes and my mouth. “That’s why I don’t know if I’m angry at him. Andres texted to inform me you went crazy trying to leave, so I can only imagine Nic’s predicament.”
A hint of regret washes over me as I know Luna must’ve stood witness to my outburst, and I can only imagine what she’s going to say—because she will likely say something. That woman couldn’t keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it.
“Do you think I should be angry at Nic?” Charlie’s question surprises me. I shake my head because I don’t think he should. Then he wonders, “Since when did you care about other people, hmm? Why do you care if I’m mad at my brother?”
“I already told you; I forced Nic’s hand. It wasn’t his fault, Charlie. And he is part of your family,” I can’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice, “I’m aware of what they mean to you, so I’m trying with them, you know?”
Charlie sighs again, deeper this time, and climbs out of the car. He comes around to let me out, and I step up to him, eyes on his face.
“What’s happened is my fault, not Nic’s.” He takes the blame, as he should. He hooks a finger under my chin and strokes me there, gazing down on me with sympathy. “I shouldn’t have left you in the dark for a week, and I’m truly sorry for that.”
No, he shouldn’t have.
The anger I felt earlier tonight rushes back, and I smack his hand away. “So, what happens now, Charlie? Do I have to tell you everything about Maksim?” I look around the front yard, emphasizing on our location. “Here?”
He pulls me under his arm to shut the car door and ushers me inside the house. On our way, he tells the Los Zetas guards to get out and man things from the outside.
“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he says to me, confusing the hell out of me. “Luna has made sandwiches, so why don’t you eat something? I know you barely touched your dinner.”
The fact that he knows makes my blood boil. Does he know I’ve been sick all week, too, unable to sleep properly?
Before we end up in a blind, mad argument, I wander off into the kitchen, and he jogs up the staircase two by two. I find a mixture of sandwiches in the refrigerator and pick at first, eventually consuming half the plate while standing to eat at the kitchen counter. I’m starving, and so exhausted I’m surprised I haven’t expired. The food offers much needed energy, filling my stomach to the point of bursting. I clear up to leave the kitchen as I found it, and prepare for round two as I make for the staircase, going up to Charlie in his bedroom. His mood is still off kilter, and I can’t figure out why. If his demons were tormenting him, he’s had a week to check himself, so why isn’t he better yet?
Maybe he needs to take some of the medication he stockpiles. I want to suggest that he takes some, but at the same time, it feels too personal to mention.
When I walk through the bedroom door, I notice the intense state of the ambiance. The lights are on low, an orange glow piercing through the room, and the balcony doors are ajar. The heavy drapes flow against the night breeze, a cool, refreshing chill.
Charlie wanders out of the closet archway within seconds of my arrival. He’s stark naked, droplets of water trickling down his large, muscular body, coming off the ends of his hair. He looks powerfully terrifying, staring for long seconds.
“Did you eat, Blaire?”
I nod, clasping my arms around my middle. He stalks up to me without delay and takes off my clothes, my hoodie first, trainers, and then my joggers. He peels off my underwear slowly and with intention, grazing his thumb nails down my outer thighs.
Inside, I’m a ball of nerves. I have no idea what the fuck is going on with him tonight.
Hot lips touch the crook of my thigh where it meets my groin, and my toes curl against the wooden floors. He licks across my sharp hipbone, and then the other, leaving warm, moist trails in his wake. I’m expecting him to go all the way and kiss me down there, but he stands to tower over me. I peer up at him, wondering what he’s doing, shrinking under his scrutinizing stare.
“Charlie?”
Without answering my nervous start, he takes one of my hands and walks me over to the seating area. He lowers onto one of the armchairs and forces me to settle between his open legs, like his pet bowing at the ready. We’re so close I can smell the aromatic spice of soap on his skin; feel the rough hair on his legs rubbing the sides of my arms.
“Do you know what I want, hmm?” he asks, fisting his vein swollen cock in one hand while circling a spot on my inner wrist with his other.
My tummy turns upside down as I look at him in a mixture of apprehension and desire. I nod, and he pumps his shaft back and forth in slow motions, making the veins pulse.
“Tell me what I want, Blaire. I want to hear you say it.”
“You want me to suck your cock?”
Grinning like the devil himself, he nods. “That’s right.”
I’m not sure I like this, him dosed up on drugs while seducing me. But I need to be here for him—he said he needed me—so how can I say no?
I fold my free hand behind my back, tugging for my other which is still cuffed in Charlie’s grasp.
“Why do you do that?” he asks, the spark in his eyes intensifying. “Why do you put your hands behind your back?”
I’m so caught off guard by his question that I can’t string two words together. My cheeks singe, and I’m barely able to look at him.
“Why, Blaire?” he asks again. Letting go of his cock, he sits forward and brushes my hair back over my shoulder, creating a universe of intimacy around us. “Talk to me, baby. Let me in, please, it’s all I want.”
The hairs on the back of my arms shoot out as he strokes around my face to pinch my chin. He makes us stare eye to eye, so I can see the raw expression on his face.
“Erm...” I tuck my free hand in my lap, boiling with shame. “Well if you want to know what Maksim taught me, I can tell you, I guess.”
“Blaire...” he elongates my name to say, “I want to know everything about what he did to you. I want to know everything about what and who you are.”
“Everything?” I can’t hide the horror in my voice. “Like, from the beginning?”
I wait for his reply, holding his intense scrutiny, but it doesn’t come. He’s silent in his pressing, urging me on without words.
I glance away, willing myself with inner strength to open up to him. Speak to him. Let go. This is the price of us.
———
I squeeze to blink, unsure of where to start. I have no real beginning, and what I can remember is fuzzy.
“From what I can gather, as it’s when he stole me,” I say the first thing that pops into my head, “I was eight years old when Maksim’s conditioning began.”
Charlie sucks in a breath, and I shatter into a panic saying I’m not sure. “I don’t remember!” I tug and tug to get out of his hold. “It’s fuzzy. I-I just don’t remember much before—”
“Hey, hey, calm down! S’all right.” He curls both hands around mine, ensuring a sense of safety. “Just breathe, Blaire. Tell me whatever you can. Whatever you want. There’s no rush. Just take your time.”
I try to swallow but I can’t get past the ache in my throat. I can’t fucking believe I’m doing this. I barely recall my life myself, and having to tell another is disturbing.
In my state of nerves, most of it comes out robotic, and I don’t even hear myself speaking.
“Maksim locked me in a cold, dingy cell for years, to study and become an incredible hacker.
“Maksim dosed me up on drugs and deprived me of sleep for so long I lost track of time.
“Maksim ensured I was in an exhausted state when he started playing his voice on repeat to condition me with promises and commands, until I lived and spoke those words as second nature.
“Maksim had a man in a mask whip me until I was rotten with welts and blood, until I would call for him to save me.
“Maksim started beating me himself when he realized I wasn’t frightened of him, since I saw him as my savior for saving me from the man in the mask.
“Maksim strapped me to a chair and made me watch movies of blood, murder, and rape.
“After the movie process, Maksim started torturing me, preparing me for what others would do to me if they ever got their hands on—”
“What promises?” Charlie cuts in, and it sends my heart racing like crazy. “Just slow down, baby, and tell me what promises.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, shrinking away bit by bit. “I’m nervous.”
“I know you are.” He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding me that he’s here. “You don’t need to be nervous. Tis’ just you and me here. Nothing to be scared of, okay?” I nod to answer him, and he whispers, “Buena niña.” Good girl. “Now, tell me, what promises?”
“There were lots of promises.” I touch my chest with my free hand to ease my anxiety, staring at the rough hair on Charlie’s stomach. “I was his. We were each other’s. He mostly made me swear that if anyone other than him ever touched me, I’d kill them. He said I’d have the ability to kill them one day.” I bite my lips closed, suddenly remembering the time Maksim strangled me while electrocuting my sex with a cattle prod. It was because I let the man in the mask touch and taste my bloody skin. I see the memory now, clear as day. It was then I knew how far Maksim would go to punish me should I ever disobey him. It was then I swore an oath to myself that no one would ever lay a hand on me without Maksim’s permission.
How did I ever forget?
“That’s why you wouldn’t let me touch you,” Charlie says, finally understanding. He shifts back in the chair, but I can feel him watching me, his eyes practically glued to my face. “Go back to the movies he made you watch. What was the purpose?”
“That was the most important phase,” I say, peeking up at him. “I’d already been conditioned by his voice and by his violence,” I carry on, “so he wanted to rid me of fear. It was one of my jobs to protect him, but how could I do that if I was always scared?”
“So, he always knew he wanted you as a hacker and a soldier?”
I shrug. “He was Russian. Who knew what went on inside his depraved mind?”
“Tell me what happened there in detail, Blaire. I want to know.”
“About the movies?” I ask, looking up at him again. He nods, so I rake through my fuzzy memories to explain, “Maksim would strap me to a chair daily, tape open my eyes, wire me up to machines and medical IV leads, and he would make me watch uncountable movies of a redhead woman murdering anyone who’d dare harm her master. I had to watch Maksim do things to people, too, to learn I was never allowed to stop him. This was his trick; he conditioned me to accept all of his darkness, so he never had to hide who he was from me, so he never had to fear I’d snap and turn on him.”
Charlie’s breaths come heavier and faster with my every confession. It’s the tension in his body, hemorrhaging into our stratosphere. I try to ignore it. I carry on as best as I can, determined to make sense.
“The redhead woman in the movies was brave,” I say, “wielding a sword and governing the most powerful guns. Her master was Maksim, and in reality, she was me. He told me so, and that my job was to protect him always, no matter what—just like she protected him in the movies.” I feel myself smile with a shady sense of proudness, but I push it away, reminding myself that I am not her anymore. “In the movies, when she killed for her master, he rewarded her with kind touches—a kiss on the cheek, a pat on the head—and I saw how empowered she felt by his affections. I wanted that so much. I’d never known kindness.” My voice disappears with sudden tears trickling down my cheeks. I don’t even know where they come from. My nose is tickling, and my throat is swelling beyond capacity.
“Go on,” Charlie rasps, reaching out to touch a spot near my eye, to catch a tear. “Tell me, Blaire, how did the movies make you feel?”
How did they make me feel...
“In the beginning, I remember feeling scared,” I choke to say, gulping back my tears. “It was a strange sense of fear. It paralyzed me; made me cry so hard I could hear my own voice howling down the bricked lobby outside.” I remember it now, the vibrating echo of my cries. It’s so strange. For years, I couldn’t conjure an image of before. Now, I can actually feel it. “My pulse on the beeping monitor next to my head was wild,” I say. “When it shot too high, I’d vomit over my naked body, rotting in my own filth because Maksim wouldn’t clean me up. When I relaxed, I was fine. I was never sick.” I frown. “Maybe it was the IV fluids. Maybe the pulse monitor was reading for my fear, feeding me something that made me sick whenever my pulsed soared.
“Anyhow,” I shake my head, since the whys don’t matter anymore. “The movies got darker with rape and bloody slaughtering’s most couldn’t even envision in their wildest nightmares. There was so much blood and death and...it was horrific. But then, one day, it wasn’t. It just didn’t bother me anymore. My pulse didn’t change. I didn’t feel sick. I wasn’t scared anymore. I was...numb. I heard Maksim say, she's no longer responsive to fear. He un-cuffed me from the chair and peeled the tape off my eyes. He stared at me in that moment, right in the eyes. Perfect. That’s what he said. Perfect. I was the perfect shell for a soldier. That’s when he introduced me to my trainer, Demetrius. That’s when he put me through tests of brutal, agonizing torture to ensure I wouldn’t crack under the pressure if anyone else ever got their hands on me. And that’s when I met James. I think I was around eleven or twelve.”
“You didn’t know James before this?”
I shake my head. I tell him about the day I met James, how thin and malnourished he was, and how curiosity gleamed in his eyes when he saw me. “I always felt like he knew me somehow, though I was certain he couldn’t have since I didn’t even know myself.
“We trained with Demetrius,” I say, “and I sometimes fought James, but he wasn’t a fast learner like I was. He always got beat up, and then Maksim would beat him, too, for being so weak. It turned James the wrong way though. While Maksim’s brutality worked on me, it didn’t work on my brother. He wanted to escape, but he wouldn’t leave without me. That’s when my loyalty to Maksim was truly tested. I attacked James for merely mentioning trying to escape, and Maksim tagged him. Shortly thereafter, Maksim freed me from my cell and let me live in his house with him. It was the first sense of liberty I’d ever felt—before he let me move out and have my own apartment—and I knew then that my loyalty to him was my salvation.”
“Had Maksim ever touched you at this point?” The second Charlie asks, I clam up. I try to turn away, but he grips my shoulders in his large hands, insisting I stay put. “You can tell me, Blaire. C’mon, don’t stop now.” He tugs me a little closer, pressing on my shoulders to arch my head back. I look at the determination on his face, his insistence. “C’mon, baby, speak to me.”
I shake my head, trembling in his hold. “He started touching me and forcing me to do things to him before then. It was when James first came along. But it didn’t happen often because when James discovered what was happening, he would always step in.”
“Sorry?” Charlie asks, absolutely stunned. “What do you mean, James would step in?”
“James manipulated Maksim’s lust to spare me, Charlie. Sometimes, when Maksim was too focused on me and wouldn’t leave me alone—day after day coming in my cell to toy with me for hours—James would deliberately make Maksim mad. He knew he’d receive our master’s full attention, and he knew that meant I would be spared.” I blink away from Charlie, ashamed for my brother’s honor. “That’s when Maksim would rape James right in front of me in my cell, to punish us both, and I had to sit and watch because I wasn’t allowed to stop Maksim from doing anything, no matter how horrid or disgusting.”
“Holy fuck...” Charlie breathes, ill with shock.
“You must understand,” I say, “we had rules.” My eyes flicker up to his, to make him see. “Punishments for being bad and tenderness for being good. It’s how Maksim worked, and it worked for us. We fell in line—or, I fell in line. James operated on a different level than me. I still don’t understand some of the stuff he did. I don’t understand why he ever wanted to leave because I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t know anything else.”
Charlie is as white as a ghost as he whispers, “That’s why you love him. He saved you. He protected you.”
I nod, relieved that he gets it. I don’t hold affection for James because his blood courses through my veins. I hold affection for that man for all he did to spare me.
Charlie gulps loud enough for me to hear, and I do, too, terrified for my brother and where he might be right now.
“I have to save him,” I choke on my words, “I don’t care what he’s done. I don’t care that he tried to kidnap me...I owe James my life.”
“I understand.” Charlie let’s go of my shoulders and sits back, rubbing his mouth in a state of revelation. “I understand now.”
“Understanding isn’t enough!” I squeeze my hands into fists. “I-I need to know where he is. I need to get him back, Charlie! Giving you my vow of silence in James’ hour of need is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. But I knew you were testing my trust in you as Maksim used to test my loyalty to him, so how could I say no?”
“Blaire,” he looks me dead in the eyes to promise, “you have my word that I’ll make damn sure that boy has a life again, a good life. Anything he wants or could ever need will be his.”
I shut my eyes to let out a long, relieved breath. I believe Charlie will take care of James, regardless of his own hatred or jealousy. He knows why James means so much to me now, and if he truly loves me, how could he overlook my brother’s acts of selflessness?
“What happened next?” Charlie asks in a gentle whisper, squeezing the rest of the story out of me.
I don’t hold back this time, nor do I let myself shut down to a robotic state. The rest of what I can remember of my life with Maksim pours out of me: the painful training with Demetrius, all the broken bones; the hidings I received whenever I failed on jobs; the sexual abuse in raw detail, when and where and how; the first day out of my cell; meeting Tatiana; buying my apartment in London; how Maksim would travel to my apartment to beat me if I was bad, so I knew I could never escape him; the last moment of savagery when Maksim nearly killed me for falling for Charlie. “But, even while I was on death’s door,” I say, slowing down here to remember how I felt, “nothing hurt. Only you hurt.”
Charlie’s eyes don’t leave mine for a second, wide and beautifully broken in the shade of the bedroom. He doesn’t speak, either, just sits there giving me his full, devoted attention, exactly what I need.
“You changed everything,” I say, gripping his thigh. “I’d never felt the things you made me feel, and I wanted more, just like Maksim knew I would. After you were done with me, when you sent me home—”
“Hey,” he stops me from speaking, “I was never done with you.” I search his eyes as he says that, thawing under his powerful adoration for me. “I was in love with you, and I was giving you a rightful choice.”
“I know,” I say softly, “but whatever happened, I wasn’t the same person anymore, and Maksim punished me for it. He wanted my bracelet.” I glance at it on my wrist, savoring the sensation of how much I love it. “I said he couldn’t have it because you told me it was mine, so he dragged me up to his bedroom and fucked my ass so badly I puked, and then I bled for a week. But even then, nothing hurt more than missing you.”
Charlie’s eyes glaze over, red and watery, and he gulps past a knot in his own throat. “I should never have sent you home.” His voice crackles, guilt scorching on his surface. “I will NEVER, ever, forgive myself for that.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” I say, smiling at him through my sadness. “I’m here and we’re together. That’s all I wanted. That’s why...why I killed that girl tonight, Charlie, because I don’t want you to be with anyone else. I want you to myself.”
“You’ve got me to yourself, Blaire,” he swears, and I’ve never seen such a powerful look of love and loyalty in his eyes before now. “I’m all yours. I’ll always be yours.”
In that second, I leap to bind my arms around his neck, burying my face in the crook of his throat. “That’s all I want,” I say, relishing in the feeling of skin on skin. “I don’t care about anything else. I just want to know James is okay, and I just want you.”
He wraps around me like a flag of protection, squeezing me tight to his body. It’s only when I come down from my rush of need that I settle back on the floor between his legs, breathing carefully to calm myself.
“Are you all right to keep going?” he asks softly, wanting more information. “I know you’re upset. We can stop if you want? I’m just worried you won’t open up to me again, Blaire.”
I wipe my nose with my inner wrist, telling him we can keep going. He is right. The next time he tries to tap into my mind, I might not be so open.
“Why didn’t he ever have you, baby?” I nearly fold up on that question, the most private yet. I cower into my shoulders, screwing my eyes shut. Charlie bends forward to put a hand on my face, and says, “Stay with me, baby. Let me in.” His thumb strokes my upper lip, sending tendrils of strange lust through my body. “Let me in,” he whispers again.
“He told me that he couldn’t risk unleashing my emotions,” I say with painful regret. “That’s why he wouldn’t have sex with me...he couldn’t risk showing me what true love felt like. He said it’d change me. He said I’d want more. And he couldn’t give me more because he craved darker things.”
“That’s ridiculous. Solidifying an emotional connection with someone isn’t just about sex,” Charlie says, as if to make me understand. “That cabrón didn’t know what he was talking about. A single touch can change everything”—he strokes a finger down my cheek, igniting my body—“a single look can change everything, and it did.”
Charlie and I smile at each other, recollecting those moments between us: the first look, the first touch, the first kiss...
Though I didn’t know it back then, the moment he kissed me, we were already each other’s.
I tell him about when Maksim used to make me do things to him, like suck his cock or milk him with my hands. “He used to say he only ever wanted those moments with me, that they were precious—not like when he fucked the sukas. But still, I hated doing it, Charlie. I hated being with him like that. I felt...dirty. Yes, I felt dirty. But, Charlie,” I turn up my face to look at him, eyes thinning with inquisitiveness, “back then, I didn’t know what feeling dirty meant. But, I do now.”
“I understand, baby,” he says, holding my gaze without ever looking away. “Didn’t he ever let you touch him while you were being intimate with each other? Did he always make you put your hands behind your back?”
“He let me touch him sometimes.” I shrug. “I was mostly trained to put my hands behind my back though.”
“I see,” he says, frowning to himself. “Did he kiss you, like I do?”
I nod, tipping my head as I confess, “But it didn’t feel nice like when you kiss me. Not ever.”
The triumph that flashes across Charlie’s face...it’s his most formidable reaction yet.
“Did he ever make you cum, Blaire?”
My eyes widen. I shake my head, telling him that was never Maksim’s goal.
“That motherfucker...having a nice girl like you and not showing you an ounce of pleasure amid all the pain...” Charlie emits a sound like a growl, deep from the pit of his throat. “He didn’t know how lucky he was, owning you. From the second I laid eyes on you, I was reeling. In the space of one meeting, I’d changed my mind so many times even I was confused. I wanted to spare you, have you for myself...”
“Charlie, can I ask you something?” I interrupt, springing with questions of my own.
“Anything,” he whispers, sitting forward with elbows on his knees to gaze right at me.
“Who did you kill?” I search his pooling blue eyes. “Who did you butcher last week when you snapped?”
“Robert’s brother...” he sounds tormented, glancing away for a second, “the one we kidnapped in Paris. He wasn’t in the game. He had a wife and a child on the way. He begged me to spare him but I couldn’t, not after what those Arabs and Robert did to you. Everyone has to pay.” Looking back at me, Charlie curves a hand around my cheek, a powerful demonstration of adoration. “I love you, Blaire, so fucking much, and I’d never want to hurt you like how Maksim hurt you. Do you understand? That’s why I left for headspace this week. I don’t ever want to hurt you.”
I love you, too. It burns my lips, but I just can’t say it. Flooding with panic, I scramble to reach between his legs, so I can show him the supremacy of my emotions. I need to show him.
“Whoa!” He catches my hands and crosses them over each other, to restrain me. “Slow down.”
“Charlie,” I husk his name while arching my neck back, allowing him to see the desperation on my face. “I want you. I-I don’t want to talk about Maksim or James anymore. I just want you.”
“You don’t have to suck my dick, Blaire. Not after what you just told me.”
“No!” I try to yank my hands from his, so I can touch him. “I want you!” I say through clenched teeth. “All of you! What happened with Maksim doesn’t matter. I don’t want him coming between us, Charlie. He cannot define how we indulge in each other.”
Unexpected silence submerges us while Charlie’s eyes flicker back and forth between mine, searching my soul for truth. Blood screams in my ears, and my heart is charging like a racehorse. Please. Please. I mentally beg in tune, knowing the abuse I’ve suffered could change things between us forever. It’s one of the reasons why I’ve never spoken of it; I know the effects this could have on Charlie and me.
“Please?” I beg aloud this time, using his cuffed hold on my hands to tug him a little closer. I stuff my face in his lap, forming a physical connection. “Please?”
“All right,” he rasps, and relief washes over me. I sag against the chair between his legs, shutting my eyes.
“I’ll show you what I like, Blaire,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head. “You’ll like it too—I’ll make sure of it. But first, you have to promise me something.”
“Okay.” I nod in submission. “Anything.”
“You’ll forget ever satisfying that Russian maricón, do you understand?”
I nod again, more than willing. I’m ready to try and forget Maksim ever existed if that’s what it takes.
Letting go of my wrists, Charlie pinches my chin and tips my head back, consuming me with his blue gaze and that unholy expression on his face. “You will never again feel shame for the things you’ve done or for the things he made you do because I’m not ashamed of you.”
A heavy frown falls across my eyes, in question and confusion. “You’re not?”
“No. I’m not.” He bends forward and presses his lips to mine, taking my breath away. “I’ve never been prouder to have someone at my side. You are a strong, beautiful, powerful woman, and there is no room for shame in your heart.”