by Box Set
Trying hard to shut off mentally, I lose myself in the day. It's a little chilly. I haven't got a coat on. I don't care.
Tomorrow, this, Charlie and me...it'll be over.
I'm not sure how I feel about that. I'm not even sure I can block the fact out.
I want to cry.
I do cry.
I huddle by the back fence that feels miles away from the house, hug my knees to my chest, and I bawl my eyes out.
———
I wring myself dry of tears and wander back to the house, feeling very disconnected, stuck between the idealism of the past two and a half months and the reality of what I have to go back to tomorrow. As much as I try to shut off mentally, I can't.
Charlie has treated me so well—it's almost been like a dream. He's fed me and clothed me, trained with me for whatever reason, and he's ensured me some happiness. He's spoken to me on a platonic level, comforted me, and he's never hurt me. He wouldn't ever hurt me. I know that deep down. I trust him.
Maksim hasn't treated me very well, but he gave me a life when I didn't have one. I can't help feeling grateful for that. Though, I now know he might've stolen me. Thinking of this confuses me. I start to wonder if I had a family, parents that might have loved me, so I put it out of my mind.
It's too painful.
I round the swimming pool and make my way up the patio steps, and the more I think about what-is and what-could-be, the more I realize it doesn't really matter what I want or need. I can't stay with Charlie unless Maksim says I can. Subconsciously, I don't want to stay with Charlie unless Maksim says I can. But he won't ever say that. He'll kill me before letting me go, as he's always promised. Up until now, that threat has never bothered me, I guess because I thought a life without Maksim wasn't a life at all. Then I met Charlie.
I'm not sure if I'd rather die than live in an unemotional world again. Ever since Charlie tapped into my emotions, all I want is to feel good things. I don't want anyone to hurt me anymore. I need the scars on my back to remind me of how strong I can be, not how strong I have to be.
I'm in thought mayhem, and I hate it.
Reaching the back doors that lead into the living room, I overhear someone speaking about me in a Latin brogue, telling Charlie to just take me. “She'll be happier and safer in Mexico with us rather than staying here with that dirty Russian pig.”
Stepping back, I plaster myself against the wall and listen in, wondering if that's Rico. It sounds like something that Rico guy would say. Just take her. I'd like to rip him apart, the smarmy ass bastard.
“I can't take her,” Charlie says, his voice full of uncertainty.
“Why not? Nothing's ever stopped you before. Have you gone soft?”
I smile with fondness at his observation. Charlie has gone a bit soft on me.
“It's not about going soft,” Charlie snaps. “She's too conditioned for Maksim.”
Someone's pacing about in brooding silence, footsteps heavy. I'm almost certain it's Charlie. I know the way he walks in anger and solace, either way, he has heavy footsteps.
“It's as simple as this,” Charlie says eventually, sounding calmer now, “if she doesn't make the decision to come with me for herself, she'll never feel comfortable and at home with me, with us. She'll run back to Maksim the first chance she gets because deep in her subconscious, she thinks she has to go back to him.”
He's right about that. It's tormenting how well he knows me.
“How has he conditioned her?”
“You don't want to know.” Charlie doesn't give the Latin guy any more than that. I smile again, though with something else this time. He's always said I can trust him, and along our journey, slowly but surely, he's ensured that.
“What I can tell you is,” Charlie says in his own time, “Maksim apparently outbid a government agency for her, but I dunno if that's true, and I dunno what government.”
That's news to me.
“Why would a government want her?”
“She's smart,” Charlie says. “Knows technology and numbers like a second nature, so everyone keeps saying.”
I don't think it's true, that Maksim outbid a government agency for me, not for a second. I think he made it up to stop others from prying about the fact that he bought or stole me.
But, then again, Maksim did know about my skills before I even told him, and he's cashed in on them, big time.
Maybe it is true.
“Cutting the story short,” Charlie says, drawing my attention. I hold my breath to listen in. “Maksim took Blaire and locked her up for years. He conditioned her to evoke loyalty and worship, and it's worked. She only has to hear that someone's gonna hurt him, and she'll make hell rain on earth.”
“Jesucristo,” that guy says, and I imagine he's raking his fingers through his hair. It's the tone of his voice. “Who told you all this?”
“Carl.”
“Is it true what they say about her fighting talent?”
Charlie chuckles under his breath. “Yeah, she's dangerous as hell. I've been full on sparring with her, and while I suspect she thinks I've been holding back, I haven't. She's just like Nic told us.”
Nic? His brother Nicolas?
“Doesn't Carl know where she comes from or what government wanted her? Because if this is true, the bodying government will have a paper trail that we can get access to. All we have to do is contact them, and we'll get the information you want.”
“Carl doesn't know where she comes from,” Charlie says. “Believe me, I've asked. I've also asked Maksim and Tatiana, but they're playing their cards close to their chests.”
They talk for a while about what I'm like. How I word things. How I analyze things. I don't get why they're discussing me like this. What's their objective?
“She's got a slight Russian accent,” Charlie says, “so I started my search based on that, but I know she doesn't come from Russia or Ukraine, nor England or America for that matter. I've checked every country.”
“Don't take this the wrong way,” that guy says, sounding wary, “but, have you bothered to ask her where she originates from?”
Charlie scoffs, and the floor just inside the doors near to where I am creaks. “She's as likely to fight me as to speak to me about herself. Trust me, she doesn't say anything without Maksim's permission.”
I take a step back to stay hidden.
“Okay. So, do you know her last name?”
Silence between them. The creaking moves further and further away.
I assume Charlie has shrugged at his friend because his friend says, “She has to have a last name. Put her photo through every government system. Search the missing persons’ databases. Have her fingerprint checked.”
“I have had her fingerprint checked,” Charlie says, “and nothing. How'd you think I searched the government ID databases for her?”
I'm numb to the touch, mentally digesting what he's saying about me.
“All I know is, she drives illegally in a Porsche that would cost the average person four years of wages, doesn't own a real passport, and she's got no friends. I've searched every inch of her apartment for information and ID but found nothing.”
How the hell has he gotten a hold of my fingerprint?
My mind whirls from every cup I've touched to every piece of cutlery.
And what the fuck is he doing snooping through my things?
“Maksim lets her drive a Porsche?”
“Kinda.” Charlie tells him that I've got my own money. “Piles of it in her apartment and in the glove compartment of her car, and she's got an offshore account with a few million in it.”
My jaw drops. He knows how much money I have in my bank account?
“Huh?” that guy says, absolutely confused. “So, if she's minted, why does she live under Maksim?”
“I asked myself that very question when I first learned how much money she's got.” I'm on edge listening to Charlie psychoanalyze me. “I rang the shrink at The Site,” he says. “
I was so confused that I could barely get my words out. She told me that I have to look at Blaire's conditioning as I'd look at a child who loves its parents no matter what they do.”
“No,” that guy says. “That's not right. A lot of kids turn their backs on their parents because of cruelty and abuse.”
“Yeah, I agree, but in Blaire's case, she apparently works on an emotional bonding level, like most kids do. She'll love and worship Maksim no matter what he does to her because when all's said and done, she knows nothing else.”
“That's so messed up, Charlie.”
I shudder a little as his friend says that. Yeah, I am fucked up. Tell me something I don't know.
They discuss all of what the psychologist said, which isn't much, how I've never had a normal life, and how it'll be hard for me to adjust to anything different than what I know, blah, blah, blah.
“Do you know her date of birth?” that guy says. “How old is she?”
There's a long pause before Charlie admits reluctantly, “She's young.”
“How young?”
“Told me she was eighteen.”
“Eighteen!” that guy practically yells.
Charlie laughs. “Don't look at me like that, Andres.”
Andres? He's talking to his brother!
I think I've gone white.
“She's a pretty girl,” Charlie says, praising me to the high heavens, “smart, witty, strong, and keeps me on my feet because she's feisty as fuck.”
They laugh together like men do, pompous and proud.
“Well...Dios mío.” Andres says when he's done laughing, “The only time you ever want to be with someone, she's barely a woman, mentally warped, and comes with a bent Russian military force.”
Charlie laughs again, sounding as smug as ever.
“Look, you obviously want her,” Andres says in a reasoning tone, “and you sound sure that she won't come with you. So, how about I have a chat with her? You know how persuasive I can be. Maybe I can find out where she comes from. I might be able to save you the trouble.”
That's what this is all about—Charlie wants to know where I come from. I want to ask why, what does it matter?
“No.” Charlie cuts him off from saying anything more about talking to me. “You don't know Blaire. She won't speak to you unless Maksim says she can. It took me weeks just to find some common ground with her, and she actually had permission to speak to me.”
“Maksim gave her permission to talk to you?” Andres sounds confused again. “Why? And, why's she here with you anyway? You never said.”
So, whatever Charlie's agenda is, he's kept it to himself.
That makes me nervous.
Charlie doesn't say anything for a moment, but he soon brushes his brother off with saying, “It's a longass story, and I promised Blaire that it's our business, so I can't tell you.”
“That bad, huh?”
Charlie's voice is dark, almost filled with shame, as he says, “I reckon you'd think I'm a callous motherfucker if I told you how I came to having her.”
For some reason, the first night I spend with Charlie whips through my mind.
The leather couch creaks under someone's weight and hairs all over my body narrow. I take another step back to keep hidden.
“Hermano, you don't think you want her because you can't have her, do you? I know what you're like. You desire things people say you can't have.”
“No,” Charlie doesn't hesitate. “I can take her if I really want too—and trust me, you don't understand the irony of me saying that—but I won't just take her. I respect her too much to just lock her up like an animal. I want her to feel freedom and peace with me.”
Peace. He catches my emotions with one, single word. I have felt peace with Charlie. The idea of never feeling it again cuts deep.
My eyes sting with tears.
“She sounds like a slow burning project,” Andres says.
“She is, but she's...Oh, I dunno.” Charlie sighs, and my lips wobble because there's something moving in his voice when he says, “if you ever get to know her, you'll see why I like her.” His tone softens even more as he says, “She's so eerie and intense with eyes that take you straight to the dark side. She's gotta stinking redhead attitude. But she's the loveliest little thing. All I want to do is look after her, but she won't let me.”
My heart goes. If only he knew how much I care about him. I wish I had the stomach to tell him.
Andres asks about me on a personal level. He wants to know how Charlie and I have spent the past few months. “I know you said she's a bit feral, but have you taken her out or anything? Girls like that kind of shit.”
Feral? I nearly laugh, even through my depressive mood.
“Blaire doesn't want dinner dates,” Charlie laughs mordantly at his brother. “Trust me, I already tried that one and she looked at me like I was speaking a dead language.”
“Okay. Well, I know you said she's very into sports.”
“Yeah, she loves sports—and food.” Charlie's voice is thick with amusement. “I'd love to see her at The Site, executing the training course.”
“Yeah, that'd be pretty cool,” Andres says. “I like women who are into sports. What was it like having her here with you?” Andres goes off in a different direction, studying his brother. “I mean, I know you like your own space.”
Charlie tells his brother everything about our time together, minus any sexual intimate details. “Life sort of became routine once she opened up to me. We have breakfast, a sparring session, dinner, and free thinking conversation. I even told her about our parents and Gina.”
“What?” Andres is lost for words. “But you-you don't talk to anyone about that.”
“I trust her on another level, hermano.”
“Why though, Charlie? She's just a girl.”
“She’s not just a girl. You won't understand what it's like to be under Blaire's spell until you've experienced it”—he sounds lost in deep thought—“she draws me in with her undivided attention and keeps me there in an odd state of trust, consuming my fucking soul with the way she looks at me. It's like a therapy session talking to her.” Charlie laughs under his breath, as if he's recalling a memory or something.
I can't actually believe how he sees me. It's baffling. I'm nothing special. I'm just...well, I'm me.
“What'd you say to her about our parents exactly?”
Silence. Then Charlie says, “She knows what I did.”
“What?! And she doesn't think you're...” I don't hear what he says, so I shift a little closer to the door. I can just see a large figure dressed in black clothes sitting on the couch. It's not Charlie.
“No. She actually understood. Said I should've tortured our mamá.”
“Fuck,” Andres says, and I see he lifts a hand to his head. “You can't just send her back to Maksim. You obviously have feelings for her.”
“Course I do,” Charlie says with a hint of anger. “Nothing makes sense without her anymore. I can't imagine a single day without her.”
“Then take her, idiota!”
Panic races through me and I step back again, clamming up.
“We'll keep her locked up for a while if need be. Then we'll put a tranquilizer tracking bracelet on her and introduce her to The Site and our people. She'll learn a new way of living, Charlie. We've all had to do it.”
Charlie doesn't utter a word. I'm not sure if he's ignoring his brother or being slowly influenced by him. Either way, I'm anxious. I won't let him take me. I can't.
“Look, I get why you're forcing her hand by sending her back early, but what if she doesn't change her mind and stay with you? What if she leaves?”
“That's a chance I have to take. I love that girl. I won't make decisions for her. I won't treat her like my property.”
The world closes in on me, and I have to grab my chest because it aches.
No one has ever said they love me before.
Someone sighs, I think Andres. “You're
como loco for not taking advantage of this last week with her. You'll regret it, Charlie, trust me.”
“I probably will, but last night something happened that scared the shit outa me, and I won't risk it happening again.”
I flush with embarrassment, and as Andres badgers Charlie for what happened, I'm unable to listen in anymore. The last thing I need to hear is Charlie telling his brother that I'm fucking crazy and explaining the reasons why.
Pushing away from the wall, I sneak around the house, click open the front doors, and peer through a crack to make sure I don't run in to anyone.
I hope Andres can talk Charlie around to letting me stay for the last week. I'm not ready to go home yet. I'm not ready to go until I tell Charlie that I care about him.
There isn't anyone in the welcome hall, so I sneak upstairs to my room and sink into bed fully clothed, trying not to wish the day away because I know it's the last day of peace I have left. It's the last day with Charlie I have left.
It amazes me that I've just overheard Maksim outbid a government agency for me, and I'm more concerned about my time with Charlie. I don't even remember how I got like this. I'd usually focus on the imperative, boycotting anything less. Now, I'm emotionally selfish.
———
“Blaire, baby,” Charlie says, startling me.
Peering over the blanket at him, I see he's standing there in the open doorway, dressed in dark jeans over black boots and a red polo shirt under his brown leather jacket. He looks like he's going out.
Nervous, I find his blue gaze but he still cannot look me in the eyes.
That hurts.
“The job has been moved forward,” he says in a deep tone.
I frown, studying the carrier bag he's holding in one hand.
“Why?”
He scratches his head, blinking at the floor. “We've been waiting for a map of the bank vault. Maksim got it a few hours ago, so we need to do the job now.”
Why do I feel like he's lying to me? Why do I feel like the whole 'waiting for a map of the vault' has been an excuse to lengthen my stay? He was in such a rush for me to grasp control of London for fifteen minutes, yet he's only mentioned the job once in the entire time I've been here with him. And, to add to my suspicion, he confessed to his brother that he's trying to force my hand by sending me home early.
