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“No. Thank you for coming on Maksim's behalf.” Robert's accent is thick and cold, like his eerie brown eyes. “I'm not sure we would have been able to resist killing him otherwise.”
Killing him!
My defensive instincts buzz in my veins.
No one is killing Maksim on my watch.
I glance between Charlie and Robert with careful scrutiny, my hand twitching for my gun.
“Do you have a picture of her?” Charlie says, and I frown, trying to read between the lines. “I see no point in pissing around.”
A picture ofher...
Her... I rake through my mind for who thishercould be. The only conclusion I come to is she must be the Albanian girl Maksim and his friends fucked at the Prince's party. It's too much of a coincidence.
“No. I agree,” Robert says. Peeling open his coat, he pulls out a tiny photo and passes it to Charlie. “She was very beautiful. As you can imagine, my anger is quite justified.”
Charlie doesn't bother studying the photo. He proffers it to me, of all people. I don't take it. I don't even look at it. I scowl up at Charlie, wondering why he's trying to show it to me.
“Do you recognize her?” He raises his eyebrows at me, gesturing with the photo. “The girl in the picture...”
“Why are you showing that to me?” I ask softly, beyond confused. If it is the girl I'm thinking of, then he knows what she looks like.
“Just answer the question, Blaire,” he whispers, though I can feel the urgency under his voice.
He pushes my hair back over my shoulder, trying to create intimacy between us. My eyes flicker to Robert, then back to Charlie, who is watching me like a hawk.
“So, you're Blaire,” Robert interrupts us, gaining Charlie's attention. “She's the fighter, is that right?”
Charlie faces Robert and tells him that I am, shoving one hand in his jeans pocket. “And she's good. I've seen her in action.”
“Oh, I don't doubt that,” Robert drawls, his cold gaze journeying up and down my small frame. “I've heard great things about you, girl.”
Quiet, I analyze him as he analyzes me. He's got blood on his hands. I can tell from his icy, gangster-like exterior; that puffed out chest; that hard-life wearing expression on his face.
He doesn't scare me. I've ended men greater and more dangerous than him.
“I've also heard of your silence.” He laughs, giving Charlie this sultry look, flashing coffee stained teeth. “Is she on offer in exchange for the girl who was taken from me? Because I'd be more than happy to forget about all the bad blood for her.” Smiling down at me, he adds, “She's pretty.”
I don't react to his smuttiness. I remain as impassive as ever.
“Blaire isn't on offer,” Charlie's tone leaves no room for negotiations, nor does his body language as he steps in front of me. “As we agreed, if Blaire confirms that this is the girl Maksim and his friends fucked-up, you'll tell me how much she was worth and I'll ensure she's paid for in full.”
“What!?!” I shout without thinking, and now I'm nervous. This can't be right. I had to bargain with Charlie so he'd let me come to this meeting, and now I'm to identify someone? And, he fucking knows what that girl looks like, so why does he need me to identify her?
Charlie glances over his shoulder at me. It takes every ounce of will I have not to attack him.
How dare he put me in a situation of dropping Maksim in it!
“Her name was Arjana-” Robert confirms that it is the girl from the party, “-she was worth half a million euro's for she was a virgin with Palestinian blood.”
“That's fair enough,” Charlie says, nodding a few times. He then pivots to me, holding up the photo again. “Do you recognize her?”
I don't look at the photo. I give him this wolfish glare, on the verge of ripping his head off.
“Blaire?” he says my name gravely, walking into me, lifting the photo so I can't avoid seeing it. “Do. You. Recognize. Her?”
My jaw ticks. Arjana is wearing a green Oxford college uniform, her dark hair pinned back. She looks very content in this image, hugging what looks like a bunch of school folders. Her big brown eyes are innocent and her smile is wide and pretty; carefree.
