About a half hour ago, when the sun finally went down, I left her at my place. I made sure to tell security that no one goes up or down without my consent while I’m gone. I don’t like leaving her there, but I have to get to the shoot. No matter how much I want to, I can’t just ignore my job.
When I left, she was on the phone with her partner. That damn woman has two phones. Despite Andre’s minion destroying her original phone, her partner hadgiven her another so that she could contact him without us knowing. She had made that call as soon as we got back from shopping to give him an update on the situation.
He did not like the fact that she was staying with me, and that’s putting it mildly. But right now, her life is in my hands and not his. He doesn’t get a say here. He put her in the lion's den in the first place. I wanted nothing more than to take the phone and tell him just that, but I didn’t because Charlie made it out like I wasn’t anywhere near her.
And when she told him aboutus,at least the part where I’m helping her, I could hear him through the phone. He was in a rage that she had blown her cover and tried to convince her that she couldn’t trust me.
I left then and there, driving around a bit before I came here to get some of her belongings. I needed the time to think, to process what I’m about to do as well as whatweare going to do to get closer, even though we have no breadcrumb trail to follow.
I open her door and step into her dark apartment. Once I’m inside and have the door shut behind me, I flick on a light and get a good look at the inside of Charlie.
Her place is not messy, but there are sweaters strewn here and there as if she couldn’t wait to shed them as soon as she stepped into her home.
On the counter is a box with the lid open. It has Nathan’s name written on the side. I immediately head to it and peek inside then raise an eyebrow at what I find. From the looks of it, it contains random things. They must have some sort of sentimental value though because there is no way that she brought even her furniture from their shared space. Her one and only couch has a rip down the cushion. Nathan was more upper-class than to have damaged furniture.
No, these things mean something to her.
I pinch the edge of a shirt and pick it up. For a second, questions rise. Why this shirt? What memory does it hold for her?
I shove the questions aside and drop the shirt back down. I ignore the laptop that was underneath it and stride toward the bedroom. There’s a small carry-on suitcase in the corner, so I grab it and lay it on the bed. Heading to the dresser, I get a handful of underwear and neatly pack it into the suitcase.
Next, I choose bras. In the bottom drawer are sweatpants and baggy shirts, so I place those inside as well.
When I’m done with her dresser, I dip into the bathroom and poke around for a minute, deciding what to grab and what I’ll just buy her. We bought shampoo, conditioner, soap, and deodorant earlier today. She threw a fit at how much it cost, but she let me buy them anyway.
I bypass the stuff in the shower and gather up her makeup. There isn’t much, but she doesn’t wear a whole lot anyway, a fact that I like. I pack her brush, some hair products, and a few hair styling things that I couldn’t name if I tried.
Once I zip up the carry-on, I leave the bedroom and pause next to the box. I have many questions about it, answers I know I won’t get if I leave them here. I grind my teeth as I debate whether or not to bring it along, and then my phone chirps.
I pull it out of my back pocket and open the text.
Andre: I have a man for you tonight for your shoot. Anya is okay with it.
Since when do we wait for the acceptance of a sex slave? I grind my teeth for a whole new reason but respondanyway because he’ll keep texting until he gets his point across, whatever that may be.
Me: Sure.
Andre: A thanks is in order, I do believe, considering what I had to do to get one to agree without damaging his body.
Me: Your sex slaves are disobedient.
Andre: I’ll leave it to you to make them obedient then.
I huff an angry breath. Even if I was still okay with this portion of my job, I’d still be angry. Andre passing his dirty work off to me just pisses me off.
Me: I’ll be there in an hour.
Andre: How’s Charlie?
My heart freezes for a second.
Me: Why?
Andre: Poor thing left the gala early.
As if he’s standing right before me, I keep my expression passive.
Me: She wasn’t feeling well.
