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I grind my jaw, feeling an irrational need to defend Charlie. “Not that I have to explain myself to you,” I walk into her, causing her to step back with caution, “but Charlie hasn't been sadistic toward me. I've no idea what the hell has happened between you two, but leave me out of it.”
I turn to walk away again, but she says, “Ohhh, come on. You'll be telling me he's a tender puppy next. Cuddles and kisses on the couch while you watch movies, is it?” She laughs out loud with clear sarcasm. “Do me a favor, little girl... I know that man like the back of my hand—I've been fucking him for two years!”
“Good for you,” I say, feeling a pang of something in my stomach. “Now, if you don't mind, I have to go.” I really, really want to hit her but know I shouldn't. I've never in my life used my physical abilities to hit a woman—not unless Maksim tells me to—and I'm not about to start now.
Using the key to unlock the car, I pull open the driver's door but notice she's writing a message on her phone, so I wait by the car, wondering what she's doing.
Her phone blows up with an incoming call, and as soon as she answers, I know who it is.
“You don't want me because of this Russian little girl?” she says in Spanish, shaking her pretty head at me. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I can hear Charlie yelling down the phone in Spanish and then she puts it on loud speaker, flashing me an evil smile.
“How fucking dare you go to my house and confront Blaire, you bitch!” he shouts so loud the speaker cracks. “When I get my hands on you, Celine, I'll knock the life outa you before putting a bullet in your fucking head! You hear me!?!”
“This is what Charlie is like,” she says with obvious amusement, unveiling her agenda of putting him on loudspeaker. “He's not a very nice man.”
He doesn't sound it at the moment, spitting out every curse word in his own language, but I know he's just lost his cool. I've seen every square angle of Charlie. I know he can be nice.
“Then what's your problem?” I go over to her. “If you think he's not a very nice man, why are you here?”
“Because he's mine, you little whore!” Her body literally shakes. I think she wants to hit me as I do her.
“Fuck off before I lose my patience with you,” I say in an odd, tranquil tone. “This isn't anything to do with me, so why don't you go find him and sort it out?”
“Yeah, you know where I am, Celine,” Charlie says down the phone in his own language, “come here and we'll have it out.”
There's a long pause of silence between us all, the energy in the garden stark with fury.
“Does he strangle you to enhance an orgasm?” she says, as if to rile me, and Charlie is going nuts down the phone now. “Belt you so hard that you can't walk for days? Order you to remain in one place on your hands and knees until he says otherwise? He's fucked up like that, Blaire,” she says my name with such abhorrence. “He derives pleasure from hurting women, and do you know why?”
My stomach twists with... I can't even explain.
“Celine, if you don't shut the fuck up...!” he yells in Spanish down the phone, “I'm gonna kill her—get my car,” he yells at someone else, still speaking in Spanish. “You listening, Celine? If you're there when I get back, I'll fucking strangle you to death—how'd you like that, hm?”
“You know I won't mind, my love,” she says with lust, tipping her head to me. “That's the difference between you and I, Blaire; I'll do whatever to keep him satisfied.”
My cheeks are pale and I feel sick to my stomach with anger, barely containing myself. I don't give two shits about what Charlie fancies, but I don't want to stand here listening to some beautiful woman who's clearly in love with him, tell me about their sexual encounters.
In a low, deceivingly calm voice, I warn, “You've got two minutes to leave before I rip your head off.”
She steps back instinctively, and I can see her heart must be racing with nerves.
“Yeah,” I say, prowling toward her, “I'm not sure if you know me, but I reckon I can break your neck in three seconds, and it doesn't look like Charlie will give a shit now, does it?” I gesture at her phone, which is now silent. “Get in your car and leave, before you can't.”
She stands there staring at me, I imagine questioning if I'm telling the truth.
Fuck this.
I grab for her long, sleek ponytail and drag her kicking and screaming to her car. There, I drop her on the graveled driveway, warning, “This is your last chance to go or I’ll keep you here for when Charlie gets back.”
She scrambles to her feet, dropping the mobile. She fumbles to pick it up and yanks open the driver's door; jumps into the driver's seat before struggling to put the key in the ignition.
I watch her to make sure she leaves, the uncontrolled way her hands are shaking. Even after three attempts she still hasn't got the key in the hole. I feel a little bad for her. She's obviously in love with Charlie and is just here fighting to get him back. I understand. He's a gorgeous man. Most women would kill for someone like him.
I lean into the car, snatch the key out of her bony hand and fire up the engine.
“Don’t come back here, Celine,” I say in her face, holding her watery brown gaze, “because I really don’t want to hurt you.”
