by Box Set
Charlie saunters toward me with a white towel in hand. He’s undone his ponytail, so his ink black hair curls around his neck and face. “Wipe yourself off,” he says softly to me, and shakes out the towel, I assume because I don't take it. I'm just glaring at him, a storm brewing inside me.
“What's with the silence? Hmm?” His blue eyes glow with uncertainty as they search mine. “Maksim said you can speak to me.”
I huff under my breath, amazed by his impudence. He goads Maksim into making me beat my friend half to death and wonders why I don't want to chat?
“I don't need that,” I refuse the towel. Crouching down, I pick up my friend from the floor, hooking my arms under his so I can drag him out to the car.
“Leave him,” Maksim says.
I glance up, my muscles straining under James' weight.
“Go on. Leave him where he is.” Maksim smiles at me with zealous wickedness, standing amid the other men who are patting him on the back.
“Okay,” I say softly and without thinking. “Sure.” I carefully put James back down on the ground and fold his hands across his chest.
“Don't worry,” Charlie whispers, draping the towel over his shoulder. “I'll put your friend in his car.”
“Don't you dare touch him,” I warn under my breath and stand up to him in defiance, barely coming up to his chest. I have no idea why I feel I can talk to him like this, but I do. “You asked for this.”
He hunches down so we're almost at eye level. “I just wanted to see what you're made of.”
“Well, now you've seen.” I'm trying to be sarcastic but I can't keep the misery out of my voice. “Happy?”
A lick of blood slithers down the side of my face, over my cheekbone. I catch it with a single finger and wipe it off on my trousers.
“You in a lot of pain?” Charlie lifts a hand to touch me, ignoring my question. “I can get you some painkillers if you need them?”
I bat away his hand with such force it makes a slapping sound. “I'm not allowed painkillers.”
His eyes widen. “Like hell you're not.”
I ball my trembling hands, the storm inside me whirling like a hurricane getting ready to explode. “Who are you to tell me what I can or cannot have?” I'm just about to tell Charlie to piss off and leave me alone, then—
“What are you two talking about?” Maksim asks, reminding me that Charlie and I are not alone, and James is still lying there at my feet.
On instinct, so I don't get in trouble, I say, “Charlie was just praising me, Cэp Maksim.” I give Charlie a desperate, knowing look.
“Sí, I was,” he concurs loud enough for all to hear, and then whispers, “For that, I want to talk to you before the night is over.”
I frown at him, maintaining eye contact. What could he possibly want to talk to me about?
There's a faint vibrating sound coming from his pocket. I realize it's his phone when he pulls it out.
“What?” he snaps to answer, without checking the screen to see who it is—and without looking away from me.
I’m the one to break eye contact. I blink about in a fluster, and he disappears through a doorway off the ballroom.
This is so weird. I've never lied to Maksim before, and I'd never be so blatant as to hold someone's gaze in front of my master.
“Come over here and have a drink, My Little Pet,” Maksim says. I’m assured by his relaxed tone of voice that he hasn't clocked onto anything.
I walk stolid across the room with a slight twinge in my back, smoothing scraps of hair back out of my face.
“Here you go.” He gives me his glass and smiles with obvious elation. “Drink up. It will make you feel better.”
I nod with a forced smile, taking the glass. It's cold against my palm and quite heavy. I scoop out a cube of ice and press it to my broken lip, blinking droplets of sweat over my lashes. Not just sweat. Blood. It makes my left eye sting.
“Told you she was good,” Umberto says, his chin doubled because he's staring down at me from at least six foot.
“Yes.” Rumo's eyes thin as he looks at me. “You should put her in the monthly fights at my farm, Maksim-Markov. We could make some serious money off of her.”
“No! No!” Maksim laughs, tipping up the glass to motion I have a sip. “It would be unfair to her opponents.”
The vodka burns my throat and makes me gasp a little.
“You can say that again,” Umberto says between chuckles. “Imagine, we would be accused of fixing the fights.”
Everyone but Carl laughs at his silly joke, and then Rumo says they should get back to playing poker. “Umberto now has an extra fifty thousand to burn as he bet on Blaire winning.”
Of course he did. I'm not sure he's ever missed one of my fights.
“Go put James in the car, My Little Pet.” Maksim leans in to kiss the wound on my eyebrow, causing me to wince internally. He then puts warm lips on my ear and whispers, “When you are done attending to James, meet me in the snooker room where we will be playing poker. Be cautious of Charlie if you run into him.”
Nodding, I pass him back the glass and walk over to James, a morsel of pain still in my back like needles in my spine. Must be due to landing on this hard floor.
James remains out cold. His hands are still folded over his chest. He's not moved an inch.
Poor guy.
I block out the sentiment of guilt. It's the last thing I need to be feeling right now. As I’m the only person inside Rumo’s house who can guard Maksim, I must keep my wits about me.
With both hands, I grab under James' arms. He's heavy like deadweight, so I use my lower body strength to move him.
Charlie appears in front of me, takes James' forearms, and attempts to throw him over his shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I snap, standing up straight. “Will you go away?” My eyes dart over to the doors. Fortunately, Maksim and his friends are out of sight.
“Dios mío, will you calm down?” Charlie glares at me, putting James back down on the floor. “I'm just helping you.”
“Helping me?” I squeak in shock, my hands trembling to hit him. “If you didn’t provoke Maksim, James wouldn't be lying here unconscious.” I'm struggling to keep my voice down, but he really gets under my skin. “Why don't you go play a hand of poker? Leave the hard work to those of us who have no other choice but to do the heavy lifting.”
“Why do you stay with Maksim?” he asks completely off topic, cocking his head.
I scoff. Another stupid question. He seems to be full of them.
“I know your friend here is fitted with a tracking device,” he says, waving a hand at James, “yet, you're not, and you stick around. Why is that?”
My jaw drops. He's been asking around about us? Not well enough though, it seems. I'm not fitted with a tracking device because I have my master's absolute trust. James is fitted with one because Maksim isn't a silly man. He knows that if James had half the chance, he'd try to run. It would be a foolish mistake, though. Maksim has the British government in his pocket because he brings millions to the economy with his trafficked girls. So if James ever did run, he'd be picked up by the police within the day.
“Why do you address Maksim with such insolence?” I say, putting Charlie under the spotlight. “Don't you think you ought to learn some respect?”
He snorts with affront. “Why would I speak up to someone with respect who is beneath me, hmm?”
I shake my head in obvious loathing, refusing to argue cat and dog style. “I don't know who you think you are...”
I grip my friend's ankles and haul him across the floor, toward the doors. Charlie takes James' wrists and lifts him off the ground, his arm muscles bulging with tension.
“Charlie,” I growl his name, curling my lips against my teeth.
“Look,” he says, releasing James again, “you can drag your friend out like a dead body, or you can let me help you.” Though he's giving me an option, his tone doesn't really leave any room
for argument. “The choice is yours.” He snatches the towel off his shoulder and flings it at me. “Wipe your face. You're bleeding.”
Dropping James' legs, I catch the towel with both hands, wondering why he's doing this. Why is he provoking me? And why is he trying to help me?
Charlie nods at the towel and I don't know why, but I wipe my sweaty forehead before cleaning up my bloody mouth, wincing when I press it to my busted lip. I'm bleeding more than I thought. The white towel soaks through with claret.
Charlie walks up to me, his stride confident and unhesitant. Reaching out, he lifts my chin with a single finger, forcing us to look at each other. A rush of heat sweeps through me, making my skin flush, and then my stomach tingles with...I don't know.
I do nothing. I just stand there like a brainless statue. I manage to swallow past the restriction in my throat, but that’s it.
“Your eye is bleeding quite a lot,” he says softly, glancing between my eyes and my mouth. With his other hand, he covers mine where I'm holding the towel to my lip and forces me to press it to my eye, dabbing there.
It stings, but that isn't what's bothering me.
I back up out of his grip to put some well needed distance between us, unable to think or speak. I just look at him, unnerved.
He observes me from a few feet away, running his tongue across the sharp of his upper teeth. I'm sure he knows how he makes me feel when he touches me. I can see it in his eyes.
He nods a few times, as if confirming something to himself.
“What?” I say, but he doesn't answer me.
Breaking eye contact, he crouches, grips James around the waist, and tosses him over his shoulder. Straightening, he heads for the exit with steady grace, as if carrying a shopping bag rather than a fully grown man.
For a time, I'm frozen in the middle of the ballroom, watching him leave. What is it with the way he touches me? Why does he make me feel weird?
Tossing the towel on the floor, I jog through the house after him. Outside, the floodlights are beaming in full force. I squint, catching up with Charlie.
He seems to know exactly where he's going because he's heading straight for the SUV James arrived in.
“Open the back door,” he says, nodding at the car, so I do. He bends at the knees to put James across the back seats and tells the other two in the car to just let him rest. “If you give him water when he wakes up, make sure he takes it in small sips.”
“Eh, okay,” they say in unison, glancing at each other, then back at Charlie.
Now that James is safely in his car, I relax somewhat. I turn for the house, heading back to Maksim.
“Are you gonna answer my question?” Charlie says, walking up beside me. “I just had your back in there, so the least you could do is—”
“What question, Charlie?”
“Why'd you stay with Maksim? Why doesn't he insist you wear a tracking device?”
I roll my eyes, refusing to go there.
We jog up the porch steps together.
“Blaire?” He gently touches my arm.
“Are you stupid or just deaf?” I face him, then I step back because we're too close for comfort. “I'm not allowed to talk about Maksim. Do you want to get me the fucking whip?”
“He whips you?” Charlie says this like he's surprised, raising his eyebrows. “We'll have to remedy your situation then, won't we?”
“Fuck you.” I step for him, craning my head back so I can defiantly meet his wicked gaze. “Fuck you and whatever you're up to.”
He looks down on me like I'm small and harmless. “I'm not up to anything.”
I laugh under my breath, jabbing a finger at my temple. “You must think me a fool, Charlie.”
“Not at all. Far from it, actually.”
“Yes,” I huff at him, looking between his eyes as he looks between mine. “I've seen men like you my whole life. I know when one is up to no good.”
“I'm not up to anything. I'm just curious as to why a pretty girl like you who has immense discipline and fighting skills, bows to a motherfucker like Maksim.” His eyes pour over my body, and the lust that burns in his expression is back in full force. “It's crazy. I mean, look at you. How strong you are.” He gestures at me with a sturdy hand. “You could choose your own path, Blaire, and you damn well know it.”
I point at the ground between us. “This, is all I know. It's all I've ever known.”
Leaning down, putting us eye to eye, he whispers, “You can learn something new.”
“Oh?” I cross my arms, stepping away from him. “Because it's that easy, is it?”
“If you had me on your side, it'd be easy.”
I don't for a second entertain what he's offering. I'll never be ready to abandon Maksim.
“I'm going nowhere. I'm going nowhere until Maksim orders me away. Have you got that?” The veins in my neck tick. “Now, just leave me alone.”
He sidesteps me when I try to rush past him.
“Agh, why are you doing this to me?” I ask in frustration, uncrossing my arms to tense my fists at my sides. “Last night, you had Maksim send me home. Tonight, you're provoking him into making me fight, and then you almost call it off because you didn't want to see me half dead.” I air quote 'half dead'. I know it was him who shouted for Maksim to stop the fight. He's the only person I've ever heard address Maksim by only his first name. “And now, you're trying to influence me into turning my back on Maksim?”
“I'm not doing that.” The tranquil expression on his face makes my blood boil.
“Then what are you doing, Charlie Decena?” I have to squeeze out every word through clenched teeth. “Because I can't work you out.”
“Maybe I just think you are a waste as 'his little pet'.” He also uses air quotations, to mock me, I think.
“That's not an explanation for all your actions,” I say with anger. “Why won't you leave me alone?”
“Okay.” Shrugging and nodding at once, he gives in to me. “I don't think I need to explain why I made him send you home last night—no young girl wants to watch that perverted shit—and as for the fight tonight, I wouldn't have let it go too far. If I thought you was in trouble, I would've stopped it myself.” He sounds genuine, and given his actions, I think I believe him. But, I'm not sure.
Maybe I'm just too proud to admit to myself that I believe him.
“I can't be doing this.” I push him out of the way, using both hands to move his large body. “Maksim is waiting for me.” As I walk past him, he grabs my wrist, forcing me to gasp in anger.
“Don't do that, Charlie,” I warn, looking down at his hand wrapped around my wrist. “I don't want to hurt you.”
He yanks me into him with powerful force, causing my head to snap back. “I'm not afraid of you, Blaire,” he whispers in my face, his brandy seasoned breath warm on my cheeks.
I glance between his blue eyes, fear and fury surging through me. “You should be.”
We're like this for a moment, staring at each other in a power standoff—before I realize all of Maksim's men are surrounding us in the SUVs. They can see what's going on.
I'm going to get in trouble if Charlie doesn't back off.
“Blaire, listen to me—”
“Let me go,” I say to cut him off. “Please, Charlie. All of Maksim's men are here, and they're probably watching. Just let me go.”
He frees me then, without hesitation. I stumble back a step and hug my middle, letting out the breath I've been holding.
“You don't have to go back in there,” he says, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. “My car's over there. You can come and work for me if you want. You can utilize yourself in a better way, Blaire. You don't have to live like an emotionless robot.”
There it is. The way the world sees me.
“You know nothing about me,” I say, boldly meeting his gaze. “You know nothing about what I've been through or what I feel.” There's so much more that I want to say to him, but I won't. I won't let him
break me down because Maksim will only have to put me back together again. “Leave me alone, Charlie.”
My eyes on the ground, I walk past him, through the welcome hall and into the snooker room where I take my position next to Maksim.
My hands are shaking like crazy. I hide them behind my back, gathering my composure.
“Do you think Charlie will attend?” Umberto says, blathering on about some party Maksim is holding next week. I don't pay attention to the rest of their conversation. It dawns on me that I didn't once attack Charlie for touching me. No one but Maksim has ever laid a finger on me without reaping my wrath.
My head is a vapor of confusion. I don't get this.
Maybe I didn't attack because Maksim said in his office that I'm not allowed to fight Charlie. I put it down to that. It's the only thing that makes sense.
“My Little Pet,” Maksim says, and when I look up, I see he's proffering my gun.
Taking it, I nod by way of respect.
Charlie returns around ten minutes later, his ink black hair a little ruffled, as if he's been running his fingers through the glossy strands.
“Where were you?” Carl asks, examining Charlie as he takes to his seat. “We've been waiting.”
“I was helping Señorita Blaire with James.” He scoops up his cards from the table, focusing his attention. “We can get on with the game now.”
“You helped My Little Pet with James?” Maksim raises his eyebrows at Charlie, then he peers back at me with the same shocked expression on his iron face. “Ohhh, isn't that nice, Blaire?”
I flinch, and my bones chill from the tone of his voice. He isn't happy.
———
The rest of the night goes by smoothly, thankfully, and Charlie doesn't say another word to me.
The men talk business and ask Charlie to attend the next poker game. He says he will if he's in town, which pleases Carl. “I can't guarantee anything. I've got a lot of work that needs my focus.”
I'm glad to hear that he might be leaving. He's causing too much bother around me. He's fucking with my chi.
