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An iron shield comes up and I step back. “How do you know my name?”
She leans into her desk, her eyes streaming from left to right like she's reading something. “A Mr. Decena called about an hour ago and booked you an appointment.” She peers up at me from whatever she's reading.
“Oh, yeah,” I say, relaxing in my pose, “I'm Blaire.”
“Of course. We have a room ready for you. Please follow me.” Clicking her fingers, she assembles a team of beauticians to accommodate me, and I spend the next few hours trying not to scream my head off because my skin is on fire from being waxed.
The appointment costs me—no, Charlie, a tidy three-hundred and fifty pounds, but it's worth every penny. My hair is trimmed, my nails are filed down and no longer like cat claws, and I'm smooth to the touch.
When I get back in the car, dripping in smooth, dark red hair, Charlie is on the phone, talking about coming to a political agreement. He addresses his caller as, 'Congressman'.The American Congressman?
He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, so I look in the back seats. There are a few shopping bags. I grab one, pull it open, and my expression drops when I see a whole bunch of lingerie sets—sports bras and normal pants.
The most natural smile spreads across my face as I peer over at Charlie. He winks at me, puts the car in gear, and we head back to the house. He's on the phone the entire time, and I learn it's definitely the American Congressman he's conferring with. I'm not that surprised—he has told me that he deals directly with the American government.
“Blaire, in the glove compartment-” Charlie says, pulling onto his driveway; he's still on the phone, “-there's a small red book. Can you get it out?”
Leaning forward, I click open the glove compartment and rustle through a pile of papers but I can't find a red book.
Charlie leans over and tries to help me find it, saying something to his caller about 'payments'.
“There,” he points out, so I grab the red leather book and give it to him.
As I sit back, my face brushes against his. I freeze, the sensation of my skin touching his surging right through me like a zap of electricity. He looks at me then, still leaning over. We're eye to eye and I can't breathe.
He isn't saying anything on the phone now. He's just staring at me, a million emotions flickering through his blue eyes.
I feel like I want to kiss him or something—I almost do, and I'm sure he's expecting me to because he moves closer to me.
In a fluster I break eye contact and try to get out of the car but Charlie snatches my arm. “Stay put.”
“I was going-” I start to say, but he shakes his head at me.
Shutting my mouth, I sit back and wait patiently for Charlie to end his call, my toes curling in my trainers.
Why does he want me to wait?
———
Five minutes I remain in the car listening to Charlie cut his call short. He's still holding my arm hostage, and I'm sweating bullets.
He finally hangs up the phone and let's go of me, and my heart is roaring in my ears.
“Why do you do that, Blaire?” he says, shifting in his seat to face me.
I blink at him, silent—I just don't know what to tell him.
His eyes widen for an answer.
“Do what?” I say naively, and I'm surprised to hear my voice comes out normal.
“You know what... Don't be coy with me.”
I stare down and pick at my nails, wishing the moment away. Why does he have to make a meal out of everything?
Charlie runs his fingers into my hair and tugs my head back, forcing me to look up at him.
“I’m sorry,” I say in a sudden panic, thinking I’m in trouble, but then his lips are on mine. He pecks me with a brief, full kiss, making my head spin, and the panic I just felt... it evaporates. I melt into him and put my hands on his chest, moaning, wanting more, but he breaks away from me within seconds and smiles. It's a dark devil smile, sending another rush of hunger through me.
