Page 27 of The Grand Duel
I keep my hands at my sides, forcing them to stay there and not lift them to wrap around my body as I wait for it. What I knew would happen by walking into this room and what I wanted. I’ve wanted this since I went upstairs that first day.
I think I need to see him.
I think I need to see that he’s a man, and someone I’d want, and not…
My thoughts trail off as warmth encases my left palm. His hand lifts mine…shaking it. He’s much closer now. I can feel—smell him, right there. “My name is…Charlie.”
His voice. God, his voice is so deep and dark and…it’s hot.
I can’t help but wonder what his actual name is.
Those thoughts drift away when his thumb brushes over my thumb and up my wrist. “I think, Jovie, it would be a good idea for you to take the lead this evening.”
“Uh.” I can’t speak. I’m so turned on and full of anticipation, I’m stumped.
I’mneverstumped.
Ialwayshave something to say.
“No,” I eventually manage.
“No?” he says with a hint of confusion lacing the word.
“Unless that’s what you want, of course.” I’m going to lose my job. “Look, I’m sorry. It’s my first night in the rooms and…” I go to talk with my hands but his still weighs heavy in mine. “Oh.” I hold it awkwardly.
He lets it go, and I drop it to my side.
“Should I…I can go get someone else.”
This is a disaster. I reach up to pull the stupid blindfold off.
But he stops me, the touch of his hand on my wrist making my knees buckle.
He takes the place of my hand and straightens the satin covering my eyes. “Unless you do not want to be here, I do not want anyone else.”
“O-oh.” Why am I a stuttering mess?
This isn’t me.
I let out a sigh and stand awkwardly as I collect myself. “If I’m being honest with you, Charlie…I didn’t—or don’t knowwhat to expect from this. I…Ireallywant this.” My face catches fire. “I do. I’ve wanted it since I first watched on the upper levels. I’m…I’m nervous.”
The feel of his eyes on me despite the blindfold is hard to ignore, and I roll my lips, pinching them together as I wait for him to change his mind and leave.
Christian was right to tell Bronwyn no.
I never should have put myself forward.
“Would you prefer to know?” he eventually asks. “Do you need to know my intentions?”
His voice is all I have, and I marry it, letting it hold me up when everything around me threatens to give out.
I shake my head. “Your intentions aren’t my concern. Your expectations…” I nod. “Those matter to me.”
“Why do my expectations matter to you?” He says it as if the thought of it bothers him.
I frown. “Because this is my job.”
He’s silent for a moment, and I wonder if the reminder of the club, the transaction at the end of this, is a turn-off.