Page 115 of Blaire
Perhaps I should have asked him. I always leave it too late to ask him things.
I strip down to my underwear and dress in the jeans, which are so tight they might as well be painted on. I shake off how much I dislike them, pulling the strappy top over my head. It's made of silk, the green material shimmering under the lights in the room, the straps crisscrossing my back.
I feel odd, like I could be a different person. Maybe that's what he wants.
I have to shun the thought because it's like being punched in the stomach.
I slip on my trainers, tie the laces, and go downstairs to meet Charlie, fighting to keep my anxiety level. He said we're going out for dinner, so it shouldn't be so bad, but I've never been out for dinner like this before. I usually man-watch Maksim while he dines.
Coming down the staircase, I find Charlie is wandering back and forth across the entrance hall like a caged tiger, and when he gazes up at me, a huge smile spreads across his handsome face. He nods a few times. “Yeah, you look lovely in green.”
I scowl with bafflement—he's in one of those funny moods—walk past him and reach for the front door.
“Not just yet,” he says, taking my hand in a feather light grip. He turns me away from the door.
“Huh? I thought you said we were going-”
Entwining our fingers together, setting my blood on fire, he leads me into a room I've not seen before, left from the staircase. It's really warm, humidity hitting me like an Indian heat wave as soon as we cross the threshold. A long, wide room and high ceilings, aglow with fancy brass lamps on side tables. Dark rosewood paneled walls and brown leather couches in the heart of the space, the parquet flooring covered in huge expensive rugs.
“Sit here,” Charlie says, helping me lower onto the biggest couch that faces the window. The sky is crystal clear, the sun burning low in the horizon.
When I look up at Charlie, I'm not sure which is more beautiful—that strange expression on his face or the sun.
He smirks at me, his eyes flickering between mine, then pivots and disappears into the entrance hall. I pull my eyebrows together, wondering where he's going.
It smells strongly of lemon polish in here, which is strange, given I've not seen a cleaner here at the house and I can't imagine Charlie polishing this big old room. Yes, he has a knack for cooking and the odd bit of cleaning, but this room is much too big for one person to clean.
Charlie comes back a few minutes later and passes me a small black box with gold detailing, BVLGARI written in gold across the lid.
“What is it?” I ask, taking it from him.
He's still smirking. He gestures at the box. “Open it and you'll see.”
I hesitate for a moment, tied up with anxiety, then I click open the lid. I find a silver bracelet inside with BVLGARI written across the side. There's a row of sparkly crystals in the center.
“If you want my opinion on jewelry, you're out of luck.” I laugh awkwardly, peering up at him. “I know nothing about jewelry, Charlie.”
“I don't want your opinion.” He's trying not to laugh, biting his lips closed.
I screw up my face. “Then, what?”
“What'd you think?”
“About this?”
He nods.
I shrug, glancing between him and the bracelet. “I guess it's... nice-looking?”
Where is he going with this?
Something switches on in my mind—the clothes he just gave me—and I point at myself. “Is this for me?”
“Yeah. It's for you.” He's still trying not to laugh. Inclining toward me, he takes the bracelet out and puts it on my left wrist, clicking it shut.
The metal is cold against my skin. It's a hard band, not something delicate.
“Do you like it?” Charlie squats down in front of me with elbows on his knees, eyes dazzling like blue diamonds.