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“All right?” He raises his eyebrows at me.
After a while of thinking, and holding back a million questions, I nod, trusting him like the fucking idiot I am. It's not even forced trust, I just... do.
“Can I ask you one more thing, Charlie?”
He tips his head; seems a little surprised. “Sure you can.”
“Why did you let me talk to...him, on the phone last night?” I have to know this at the least. “You said you didn't want us having any contact until you're done with me, so why-”
“You looked too nervous for my liking—more nervous than I anticipated you'd be—and I knew that if you spoke to him, you'd be okay.” He gestures out the window screen like he's averting from my question. “C'mon. We need to get a move on.”
I want to tell him that I was nervous, that he didn't need to drug me because if Maksim said so, I would have come with him, but I won't get any more out of him. SoI put the car in gear and pull out of the wide driveway, between tall electric gates that open on command.
I fleetingly wonder if he is using me to get back at Maksim. It doesn't feel like he is. The way he looks at me and kisses me... I feel like he genuinely likes me. But perhaps I'm just green to men of his standards.
I don't know.
He really confuses me.
———
We don't talk much on the drive to West Sussex, bar Charlie telling me to “Take a left; get off on that motorway; turn right.” We just watch the city landscape change to farming fields and acres of flourishing green land packed with sheep. I suppose there isn't much to say, really.Hegot what he wanted last night and I'm safe from his sexual desires for a while.
It takes about two hours for us to arrive at our destination, but we arrive when the Albanians expect us—two o'clock on the dot.
“Let me do all the talking,” Charlie says, tucking a gun into the back of his jeans.
“Do you think I'm stupid?” He should know by now that I don't usually speak unless spoken to. I only talk back to him. I just now ponder over why I have the guts to do that.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I shake it off.
“Blaire...” he elongates, “if I ask you a question I expect you to answer me... please?”
I sigh, blinking down, then back up at him. “I'm just wondering why I talk back to you when I wouldn't dream of doing it to anyone else.”
Sitting back, he grips the handbrake, watching me in quiet muse.
“Maybe because I don't order your silence. Maybe you feel comfortable around me.”
I laugh mordantly. “Comfortable? Really?”
“Well, as you said,” he shrugs with one shoulder, “apart from me, you've not dreamed of speaking before being spoken to, yet, you've never questioned yourself with me.”
The idea isn't lost on me. Staring at him staring at me, I mull it over, annoyed that he might be right. Even at Rumo's poker game, I indulged Charlie... spoke to him... I lied to Maksim when he asked what Charlie and I had talked about after I bested James. I've never lied to Maksim before. I've never spoken to anyone like I do Charlie before, and I don't even know him.
“Don't think about it too much,” Charlie's raspy voice breaks through the silence. “I like that you prefer this rather than the obedient dog Maksim has trained you to be.”
“How do you know I prefer this?”
“Don't you?” He raises his eyebrows, locking us in a moment.
I can't tell if he's manipulating me or not. I just can't read Charlie.
“You're trying to get in my head,” I say through gritted teeth.
“No, Blaire,” he says softly, looking between my eyes. “I just want to know you, that's all.”
