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“Why is she off limits?” Charlie prowls over to Maksim, who is standing in the doorway looking at me.
I cannot see that he's looking at me. I just know.
I wipe my lips with a single finger, relishing in the sight of Charlie's blood coating my pale skin. I can still taste him.
That kiss was nice.
I blink up at Charlie and Maksim, my head still in a desire fueled fog. They're watching each other like dangerous predators.
“Maksim,” Charlie snaps, “why. Is. She. Off. Limits?”
Maksim slants his head to me, his eyes thinning. “She's innocent, and I'd like for her to stay that way.”
Charlie's eyes zoom in on me and the look on his face... He wasn't expecting Maksim to say that.
“Fuck off is she innocent?” Charlie points a leveled finger at me. “Why would you have a nice girl like that and not have her?”
Silence, though I can almost hear Charlie's thoughts running through his mind.
“I have my reasons... Why don't you go and get yourself a proper drink, my little pet?” Maksim ushers for me to leave. He half smiles too, as if pleased with me. “Charlie and I have some business to discuss.”
“Yeah, you bet we do.”
On autopilot, feeling a little more like myself with Maksim's order filtering through my system, I nod and walk past them, eyes down, heading for the kitchen. I could do with a cold, stiff drink. It's been a crazy day.
The hallway is aglow with soft blue lights shining up the white walls, walls that boast pictures of every boxer ever to have won a world title.
Charlie is a seriously good fighter. I wonder who taught him.
I need to find out exactly who he is—knowing he's a syndicate leader isn't enough. I don't trust him or his intensions—nor his effort to bend me to his will with that damn kiss, for that matter.
Though, it was a nice kiss.
I'll not tell Maksim that. Charlie's bloody nose tells him all he needs to know, that I fought. I fought against him for touching me.
Perhaps that's why he was so relaxed about catching Charlie and I in that compromising position—he thinks I resisted.
In the kitchen, where it's still heaving in naked women, that guy says nothing to me. He moves out of the way and lets me walk through the cooking space.
Pulling out the hair tie from my bun, I let down my hair because it's a fuzzy mess. I then grab a beer out of the fridge, crack open the lid, and guzzle down a healthy mouthful, ignoring the music and the people around me. The bitter liquid is refreshing. I sigh, resting back against the counter top. The bottle is so cold that droplets of water gather under my palm. I press the bottle to my cheek, feeling hot.
I still cannot believe Charlie just kissed me. No one has ever kissed me like that before. Maksim is cruel when romantic—if I can call what he does to meromantic—butit's all I know. Though now, I have this. Whateverthisis.
Over an hour passes before Maksim and Charlie enter the kitchen. I'm still standing by the fridge, looking as though barely a minute has passed.
“I guess I will see you in a week or so, Charlie,” Maksim says with obvious irritation, making his way outside without looking at me.
I frown. Why isn't he coming to speak to me? He usually says goodnight at the least.
“Out!” Charlie barks, and everyone—I mean everyone—leaves through the back doors.
I aim to leave too but Charlie stops in front of me and says, “Not you.”
I rest back against the countertop in resistance.
“The eleven minutes will work.” He takes the beer out of my hand and pours the rest down his throat. “You all right, Blaire?”
Arching my neck back, I scowl at him, noticing he's cleaned up his face of blood. “Of course I'm all right. What's Maksim doing?” I grab the edges of the kitchen counter because Charlie virtually puts himself between my legs. “What are you doing?”
