54. Fucking Robert
54 /
fucking robert
charlie
I’ve just come out of the shower when I hear the intercom. I should have told Rafael to just come up, let himself into my apartment, and come straight to my bed.
No, that would have been a bad idea. We do still need to actually talk. I need to make my feelings known and also figure out when I’ll talk to Robert.
Fucking Robert.
Two minutes later, with my hair still sopping wet and my body wrapped in nothing but a towel, I skip to the front door as I hear the soft knocks. I open it, not bothering to fight the smile breaking free on my face, and I’m met with…
Fucking Robert.
“Hey, Lottie. Miss me?” With his hands in his khaki pants, he smirks as he regards my lack of clothing. If I could kick myself for making it so easy for him to get my address, I would. He probably told my assistant he wanted to surprise me or some bullshit. “I hope you don’t always answer the door in your towel, Charlotte.” His tone is scolding, as if I’m a child. “Obviously, you were expecting me.” He walks past me and into the apartment as I roll my eyes out of his sight .
“I wasn’t, actually. What are you doing here?” Maybe it’s my lack of sleep. Maybe it’s the time I’ve spent with Rafael, feeling like I can speak my mind. All I know is I don’t feel like holding back right now.
“I told you I was coming. So, here I am. It’s time to come home. It’s clear that this is what you wanted, right? Some grand gesture for me to get you back to London? Well, I’m here. Now you can stop fishing for attention.” He walks around my space as he talks, hands still in his pockets as if he doesn’t want to touch anything in here. Like he’s too good for this place. God, I’m so angry at myself for wasting so much of my time on this tosser.
“No,” is my simple response. He turns to look at me, then. I expect to see shock on his face, but the bastard is smiling.
“No? And you’re going to, what? Stay here? In this place? I can make it so you never find another job in finance again, Charlotte. You will come back to London to work for me. To marry me. We had a plan.” He takes his hand out of his pocket to inspect his nails, the pompous asshole.
I can feel the anger rising in my body, making my blood boil. I want to hit him. I want to kick him out of here and straight back to London so I can be sure to never see him again.
“I’d rather not have this conversation with you when I’m so undressed. I’ll be right back.” Without giving him time to respond, I walk into the hall and to my room, closing and locking the door. Not because I feel unsafe, but because I just need a moment to know no one is going to come in here while I gather my thoughts.
I take my time getting dressed, brushing my hair, and tidying a few things before I pick up my phone to text Rafael. He’s supposed to be here in twenty minutes, so I’m sure he hasn’t left his house yet.
ME:
Hi. So sorry, but something’s just come up.
I’m not sure how long it’ll take.
Can we meet in a few hours?
It’s vague, I know, but once Robert is gone, I can explain everything to him, and hopefully—finally—get him naked in one of our beds.
rafael
I’m super early, but I don’t care. I can’t fucking wait anymore. I need to see her and hear her say the damn words to my face.
As I enter the building, Carla greets me with a smile at the front desk. My hands tremble as I step into the elevator, and I shake my arms out to calm myself. The jitters intensify as the elevator rises to Charlie’s floor. When I stand in front of her door, my nerves feel like sharp claws tearing at my insides. I knock three times, and heavy footsteps sound from the other side of the door.
Weird .
The door swings open too quickly, and a pair of blue eyes I don’t recognize greet me.
“May I help you?” The guy's hair is slicked back, and his khakis are definitely too tight, even for a dude this slim. When I don’t answer, he widens his arm, which is a stupid move, because if I wanted to break in, he just made it easier. But that’s not why I’m here. “Hello? Are you a delivery man or something? Perhaps you’re at the wrong flat? We didn’t hear the intercom.”
His British accent registers. His use of the word we. I know who this fucker is .
Fucking Robert.
Fuck this guy.
“I’m looking for Charlie, actually.” I step a little closer, trying to look over him. We’re about the same height, but I’m still nearly double his size.
“Charlotte’s occupied. She’s just getting ready for our date. You know how women are.” His tone is so condescending as he rolls his eyes; it makes me want to punch his stupid face and make sure his eyeballs get stuck back there so he can never lay eyes on my girl again.
“I see. Well, you can tell her that Rafael came by, and I’m ready for that talk whenever she is.” I pat him on the shoulder and wink at the man as he scoffs at me. “Thanks, mate.” Turning on my heels, I whistle all the way to the elevator, keeping my gait nice and relaxed while my heart fucking breaks inside my chest.
As I get to the front door of the building, I see a text message come through from Charlie, and then another, and another. When I read the third message, all the air is sucked out of my lungs.
Something came up all right.
Fucking. Robert.
charlie
Rafael doesn’t respond right away, and I leave my phone in my bedroom, not wanting to be distracted by it while I tell Robert to hop back on a plane.
Without me.
He’s sitting on the sofa when I come into the open living space, and it pisses me off. He doesn’t need to sit for this conversation. It won’t last long enough to warrant a sit-down.
“Did I hear someone at the door?” Walking around the sofa to stand in front of him, I plant my feet firmly on the floor.
“Yeah. Wrong flat,” he says dismissively.
“I’m not going back to London, Robert.” I remain standing and watch him, arms spread wide on the sofa, looking far too comfortable and carefree.
“How much longer do you need here? I’d like to be married in the next month, so if you’re okay with my assistant planning it all, you can have another four, five weeks tops.” His arrogant tone has my skin prickling with rage.
“You can get married whenever you want. But it won’t be to me.” I know he’s about to ask me why, like the absolute moron that he is.
“What do you mean? Why not?”
Called it.
“You only want to marry me because it’s what your daddy needs for you to become CEO. You want to marry me because you think I’ll turn a blind eye to your infidelities since we were in an open relationship—if you can even call it that—for so long, and because I’ll always make you look good. Tell me I’m wrong.” I cross my arms, the irritation coursing in my veins enough to power me through this conversation despite my exhaustion.
“You want monogamy? Fine. Whatever.” He flicks his wrist like I’m one of the clients he’s trying to appease.
“So, I’m not wrong then? This marriage is basically just a business deal to you, isn’t it?” He better answer the damn question.
“That’s what we agreed to, right? I get the position, the company. And you get the title you want, a husband and a very comfortable life.” He turns down his lips, as if I couldn’t possibly ask for anything more.
“And what about love? Joy? Family?” Everything I’ve had these last few weeks.
“I mean, we love each other, right? We’ve known one another for years, and we still get along. We could be happy. You can pop out as many kids as you want. We could start practicing now.” He makes a move to stand, but I take a step back, shoving my hand in the air toward him, asking him to stop.
“I don’t want children. You know that.” My face scrunches with disgust at what he just insinuated.
“That was in our twenties. All women say that in their twenties. Then they hit thirty, and boom. They want babies.” He sets his hands on his lap so confidently. God, I want to kick him in the shin with one of those pointy heels Maeve has.
“Not all women. Not me. I don’t want children, and I don’t want to marry you. In fact, I’d like to have as little as humanly possible to do with you, so you can leave now. I don’t want to see you ever again.” My jaw is clenched so tightly that I’m practically talking through my teeth.
“Lottie. You don’t mean that.” He does stand this time, despite me taking another step away from him. “Come on, we’re so good together, babe.”
“No.” I’m running out of room as he keeps stepping into my space. “And if you take another step toward me, I’ll call the owners of the security company at this building. One is my brother-in-law, and the other is the man I’m in love with, so I think they’d be rather interested in knowing there’s an unwanted guest here.” The truth is Owen would probably not answer his phone right now, what with two babies and a recovering wife at home, but at least Rafael would handle the situation. I’m confident in that.
“So, you came to LA and fell in love, did you? That’s cute. His name wouldn’t happen to be Rafael, would it?” He stops moving, but his eyes flick to the front door when he says Raf’s name.
“Who was at the door earlier, Robert?” The blood in my veins runs cold. If Rafael came here and saw Robert, why did he leave? Why wouldn’t he stay and demand to see me? Did he figure I wanted Robert here? Did he see this as his way out of our arrangement? No, no, that’s stupid. Rafael cares about me. I know this. “Answer me.” Robert remains quiet. “Fine. Don’t. Now, get the hell out before I make that call.”
“You will regret this, Charlotte. And when you come back to London, begging for a job and to get me back, I’ll be there. It was always you and me, babe.”
This time, I don’t bother hiding my eye-roll. “Goodbye, Robert.”
Once he’s out of the door, I lock it and start gathering my things. I’ll wait a few minutes to make sure Robert isn’t hanging around, and then I can go and make things right. Because Robert is so wrong. I won’t regret this. Even if Rafael turns me down, I won’t regret telling him how I feel.