Page 157 of The Grand Duel
Charlie
If it meant I got to have you for another night.
Only what kind of a man would I be to ask that of her. To expect a twenty-four-year-old woman to fall into my ways because I’m fucked up.
“Eventually, I guess.”
Although the thought of it makes me feel sick.
I want her.
I want Lissie, not anyone else.
But if she doesn’t want me…
“Or I could find somewhere else. If it made you feel more comfortable.”
She looks away, focusing on the coffee table, her eyes shining. “What even was this? Why did you…why were you the way that you were in Italy?”
“I like you,” I say in a way of explanation and with zero hesitation. “I don’t know much, but I know that.”
“And yet you would pay six hundred grand to keep me away from other men but would go elsewhere and sleep with women?”
“What? No. I mean down the line.”
“When I’m not in the picture.”
I scrub at my face. “That’s not what I meant.”
“It feels that way.”
Because it is what I meant.Fuck. “I’m not just going to presume that you’ll want me, Lissie. You think I can go back there and be with someone else after you?” I shake my head. “I’m a mess. Is it so wrong that I don’t want you near it?”
She places down her wine and stands.
I push Daisy off my lap and follow as panic makes my throat tighten. “Lissie.”
She walks to her bag and picks it up. “Make decisions for yourself. Not for me.”
“What does that even mean?”
She turns on me at the lift. “It means that you would go back there, and that’s fine. You’d be with someone else when all this is done—it’s an end that’s so clearly inevitable to you right now.” She shrugs, and I know I’ve hurt her again.
“I—”
“It means that if you wanted me, Charles, you’d own it. You wouldn’t pay to keep me away from other men, you’d ensure I didn’t need them. You’d presume and know that if it wasn’t what I wanted, if the mess was too fucking messy, I’d use my own judgement to walk away.”
“I’ve never done this before,” I tell her, my own frustration bubbling over. “I’ve never been this man who doesn’t know what to do in a situation.”
“No one has done this before! It’s called living.” She hits the call button for the lift. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”
My chest heaves, and I look around at a loss, wanting to reach out and grab her. Physically restrain her from leaving. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
My nostrils flare, the idea of her leaving making my blood roar in my veins. “Let me?—”
“No, you’re not driving me home.”