Page 128 of Blaire

Raising his eyebrows, he urges me onward. I drop my eyes to the floor and go over to him on mental command. He exits the room before me and leads the way downstairs in absolute silence. There by the front doors, he puts the carrier bag down on the floor and grabs my leather jacket. I snap my eyebrows together, remembering having it upstairs.

“Don't bother trying to find your gun-” he pushes my jacket up my arms, walks around to in front of me and fixes my collar.

I'm just staring up at him... panicking.

“-I've got it,” he says, his eyes flickering up to mine, and then back down to his hands where he's still playing with my collar. “You can have it back when... when I drop you off at home.”

I don't give a fuck about my gun right now. I can't get my head around the fact thatthisis over

His hand hovering over the hollow of my back, he picks up the carrier bag and leads me out of the house, to his car.

I peer over my shoulder at his house, at the stately aspect of it, feeling it drift further and further away. I really, really don't want to go.

“Charlie,” I whisper his name in a broken voice, but when he looks down at me, blue eyes full of conspiracy, I can't speak. I glance away, feeling like the biggest coward in the world. I care about him so much but have no courage to tell him.

Reaching his car, he opens the passenger door and helps me inside, putting the bag he's holding on my lap. He even buckles me up. I guess he can read my dismay.

“I made you something to eat,” he says, gesturing at the bag.

“I'm not hungry,” I say softly, blinking at him.

“You'll eat, Blaire.” Shutting my door as a way to suggest there's no room for discussion, he rounds the car and jumps into the driver's seat. He opens the bag and tells me to eat at least half the sandwich. “I won't be around anymore and I'll be damned if I'll leave you unfed.”

“Okay,” I whisper, every hair on my body spiking.

The sandwich doesn't get past my lips. I fiddle with crumbs of bread to make it look like I'm eating, but I'm just not hungry.

We make the drive to London in total silence. Charlie has the radio on low. I'm grateful for the music cutting through the tension that is us, though it's doing nothing for my panic.

I can't believe this is probably our last few moments together and we're like this. It's heartbreaking.

“Eat some of that sandwich, Blaire,” Charlie orders, making me flinch.

I do this time. It tastes of nothing, and it's so hard to swallow, clogging up my air passage because my throat is so dry and tight.

As soon as we enter London, my panic turns to dread. I have to say something. I have to sway him into taking me back with him after I've done the job so I can spend this last week with him. I miss him already and he's not left me yet.

We pull into my underground car park, pull up beside my Porsche, and Charlie turns off the car. He's quiet for a while, staring forward. I watch him from the corner of my eye, unsure of what to say. I have so much that I want to say but no capacity to speak!

Charlie leans down for the glove compartment, digs out a mobile—my mobile—a set of keys, and my gun. He passes it all to me.

“I've put my number in your phone. It's under Decena.” He looks me right in the eyes now, causing mine to water. “If you ever need me, no matter the reason why—no matter what time of day it is—call me, and I'll come.”

I can't even nod at him. I'm cold to the bone.

“Are you sure you don'twant tocome with me?” Twisting at the waist, he grabs the back of my headrest and looks down on me, putting us mere inches from each other. “Because I can turn the car around and we'll leave. You can come and live with me in Mexico or I'll set you up here in England. I'll take care of you. I'll do whatever you want.”

I stare down at everything in my lap. “I can't go with you, Charlie,” my voice is so small. “Maksim said I have to come back.”But I can stay with you for this last week...Why can't I tell him that?

He doesn't question me further. I can feel that he wants to, but he doesn't. Staring at me with powerful intensity, he reaches over, grabs my left hand, and shows me the bracelet he bought me.

“Don't take this off,” he says, stroking over my palm with his thumb, turning my need to cry into a full blown stream of tears. “It's got a tracking device in it-”

My heart contracts.

“-I can't let you go without knowing where you are, Blaire,” his eyes pace between mine, “I'll not be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

Oh, fuck... It's over. I cannot get my head around how we've gone from being madly in lust with each other, to this.