We haven’t spoken since two nights ago, when I invited her up to the ballroom. Truth be told, I’ve been avoiding her. I hate the way she’s gotten under my skin. I’ve dealt with women who think they know everything before, but the difference with Charlotte is she’s on the right track.
“Certainly. Are you in your office?” she asks, her voice breathless. My cock twitches as I imagine the words forming on those plump red lips, and then those same lips forming around my shaft.
“No. Take the elevator up to the top level. I’ll buzz you in.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
I place the phone back in its cradle and stand up, walking over to the window. I have a magnificent view of the grounds and the hills surrounding my property from all my living areas, but from this window it is the best.
To the naked eye my private living areas might not seem too different from the rest of the mansion, but there are subtle differences here for only me to enjoy, from the expensive bottles of whiskey lining the bar to the small trinkets from my time spent traveling the world when I was younger. They all show a side of me that I’d much rather keep hidden. I wander over to where a small abstract painting hangs. The deep red strokes painted with such force contrast dramatically against the pure white starkness of the naked wall behind it. I purchased it from a young girl on the streets of León for much more than she was asking, and I remember the haunting look in her eyes all too well. There was something about her story that touched me. She reminded me a lot of my sister. It had been a long time since I felt anything other than anger and emptiness, and I never have again since.
A soft knock on my door drags me away from my memories. I look up and see Charlotte standing there. I take a moment to enjoy the way her long curls fall over one shoulder and the way her posture is pushing out her breasts. My cock aches as I catch a glimpse of her creamy white skin through one of the undone buttons on her almost-transparent shirt. I shift, the outline of her erect nipples unmistakable. She almost has me forgetting why I called her in. And it wasn’t to fuck her, no matter how badly I want to right now. I clear my throat and wave my hand impatiently.
“Come in. Close the door, please.”
She walks in and glances around, uncertain in her movements. God, I love how she tiptoes around me. But as timid and shy as she is around me, I know that spark is inside her somewhere.
“I’ve never been in here before,” she whispers, as if she’s confessing some big secret.
I laugh. Of course she hasn’t been in here. My living areas are off-limits to my girls under every circumstance. I’m careful to keep my needs as far away from my personal life as possible, because once emotions are involved, judgment can so easily become clouded. All the same, I need her to think she means more to me than the others, and if that means opening a small part of myself up to her, then I’ll do it.
“Nobody comes up here. This is the only place in the world I have to be alone.”
I study her face, trying to ascertain her mood. I pushed her the other night and I need to be sure she isn’t going to break. Her questions about Brynne caught me off guard. I’m determined to find out where that came from. The media documented Brynne’s disappearance, but she is the first person to flat out ask me what happened. Was that just curiosity, or is there more to it? Either way, I’ll find out. If that means letting a little of my guard down, then I’ll do it. She has no idea how important she is to my plan.
If she’s playing me, then I’ll play her right back.
“If you want to be alone so bad
ly, then why all the women? Why have them live here?”
I stare at her, my stomach twisting into knots as I try to figure out how to answer her. Why is it every time she speaks to me I feel like she’s trying to unravel me? She has this way of making the most innocent question seem so damn personal.
If she were anyone else, I would have gotten rid of her by now. But I can’t do that with her, not only because I need her but also because…I shake my head. Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on in my head right now. She’s so fucking scared of me, but then out of nowhere comes her fire. I’m not used to having to answer to anyone. But it’s more than that. I’m not used to having someone care enough to question me.
“Because I can’t not have company. I need to keep myself busy, or I’ll begin to overanalyze things,” I respond eventually. As soon as the words come out of my mouth, I regret them. There’s a fine line between being honest and baring my soul. If there’s one thing I’ve learned the hard way, it’s that honesty exposes the most vulnerable parts of you. I need to keep myself at a distance or God knows how this will turn out.
“Surely there are other ways to keep yourself busy,” she argues, and I want to laugh, because the last thing I need is her playing doctor on my soul.
“Am I paying you to counsel me, Charlotte? Pardon me, but I could’ve sworn I hired you for your body, not your mind.” My voice is loud and condescending. Her face immediately reddens.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t need you to apologize, just understand that I’m not a problem for you to solve.” I stand up and circle the room, ending up in front of her, where I reach out and cup her face in my hand. “I need to explain a few things to you. Things that I hope will leave you with a better understanding of what I want from you.”
I motion to the two-seat leather sofa against the far wall.
“Sit while I pour us a drink. Wine?” I ask curtly, holding up the bottle. I turn before she can reply and walk over to the bar, where I prepare our drinks.
“It’s ten in the morning.” She laughs, raising an eyebrow.
“And your point is?”
She moves over to the sofa and sits, crossing one leg delicately over the other. I suck my chest in, wetting my lips as I focus on those long, lean legs. My thoughts cloud. What are we doing here again?
“Here.”
I hand her a glass and sit opposite her. Taking a long sip of my scotch, I savor the rich taste of what equates to nearly a hundred dollars a glass as I mull over what I’m about to tell her. The other night proved she trusts me, but I need more than that. I need her to understand. The only way she’s going to do that is if I explain a few things to her.