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“Where the fuck are we?” I say, clicking back the hammer, blinking rapidly.
He points a long finger at me, warning, “Put down the gun, Blaire.”
“You didn't anticipate I'd have this, did you?” My voice is the wrong side of confident but I'm not confident. I have no idea what is happening. “Didn't you think to pat me down?”
His nostrils flare. He's still stunned—I can see that much.Good.
“Where the fuck are we!?!” I scream, tearing my throat to shreds.
He doesn't say anything, so we watch each other for a moment, the atmosphere thick with tension. I'm not sure who is the prey—inside, I feel it's me. I'm shitting myself.
Charlie walks right into the barrel of the gun, hunches down and presses it to his forehead. “Do it,” he hisses out, his teeth clenched, “or give me the gun, Blaire.”
I freeze, knowing I cannot actually shoot him—I'm just trying to scare him. I don't really know who he is yet, or how important he is to others, so I cannot be sure people won't come looking for him if he goes missing, and I cannot risk the blame landing on Maksim, even if he has betrayed me.
I hold Charlie's unnatural blue gaze. He's not at all afraid. I am. I'm fucking anxious because I know he's going to abuse me for the next few months. Maksim clearly cannot stop him. He took me from Maksim's house and doesn't seem to have a scratch on him.
“Go on, Blaire,” he says gently this time, “shoot me.”
“If I don't, you're going to do terrible things to me.”
He nods, making the gun move in my grasp. “You're right. I am.” There's something in his voice like vengeance. Wrapping his long fingers around the gun, he holds it in place. “Do it!” he yells, making me jump in my skin. “Fucking do it if you want to do it!”
“Shit...” exhaling shakily, I let go of the gun and he throws it over by the door. It lands with a heavy bump that makes me flinch.
Charlie then grabs me around the arms, imprisoning me with all his strength. I stiffen in his hold, panting heavily, trying to gather my wits.
He doesn't do anything right away. He's just holding me in place, looking down on me.
“I need to speak to Maksim,” I say, lifting my eyes to his.
Charlie quietly scans my face, his expression unreadable—or to me his expression is unreadable. I'm so dizzy.
“I need to ask him something. I need to speak to him!” I yell in Charlie's face and it makes me dizzier.
“What for?” he says. “Permission?”
I nod in a floppy state. He's right, I do need permission. I can't do this—whateverthisis—without Maksim's permission.
“Are you gonna let me take off your jacket?”
Give and take... is that what this is all about?
I can let him take off my jacket if it means I can talk to Maksim. I need to talk to Maksim!
I nod again in a weak manner, and as his hands draw down my arms, he pulls off my jacket. Leaning past me, he lays it over the foot of the bed, then steps back.
He's quiet again. I can't fucking stand it. His silence seems to magnify his presence.
“Can I speak to Maksim?” I say, wavering under that powerful stare of his. “Please, Charlie?”
More silence...
I try to convince myself that I can see pity in Charlie's eyes as he studies me, but it's a lie my mind has conjured up. This man doesn't pity me.
“Charlie?” I snap, balling my hands. I'm on the verge of losing the plot.
He pulls a mobile out of his jeans back pocket, dials someone, and passes it to me. With a rickety hand, I take it and put it to my ear.
