The Grand Duel (The Grand Men #4)

Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

Lissie

T rust me to buy a pizza to help sober myself up only to complete the mission with one singular sentence.

“I didn’t think I was your genre of man?” he says, smiling up at me.

“Shut up.”

My face is on fire.

He licks at his bottom lip. “I think I might f?—”

“Hello, sorry. It’s been very busy tonight.”

I look up at the lady heading towards us.

Charles stands and holds out his hand to help me up. “Bedtime, Lis.”

I take his hand and stand, then smooth out my dress. “Thank you.”

We turn when there’s a commotion at the door, the lady flustered.

“Is everything okay?” Charles asks, his tone turning a little more nine-to-five.

“We’ve had new locks installed in the suites and penthouse apartments this week due to an issue with the previous ones, but the mechanisms are still getting jammed on the old ones. This happened to another suite just yesterday, and we had to have the company come out to fix it.”

“So, it’s not a quick fix?” he asks.

“I’m afraid not. We can move you to another room if that’s suitable for you. I’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

“Of course, another room is fine,” I tell them.

Charles nods. “We’ll take the other suite, thank you.”

She cringes. “I’m sorry. Again. We do not have any more suites available tonight. We have a standard double on the second floor. Or we can see to have you stay elsewhere for the night in a room of the same standard as this one. No extra charge to you.”

Am I god’s favourite child?

I wait, not wanting to sound too eager and not wanting to make the decision for Charles. The woman, who I’d presume is the manager, eyes him. I tilt my head back, following her line of vision, and find blue eyes already looking down at me. He’s dishevelled, his hair sticking out at the side from where I toyed with a few strands, and his bowtie untied, hung loose around his neck.

He’s beautiful, and he’s watching me, and I think he knows I’m halfway to gone for him.

His jaw tics once, and then he turns back to the woman and nods.

“You guys are superstars, thank you. And thank you for being so understanding. I can assure you we’ll be rectifying this issue, and you will receive compensation.”

“It’s fine, really,” I tell her, using Charles’s arm to balance as I bend down and collect up our rubbish.

The lady sees and takes it from my hands.

“There will be robes, towels, and toiletries in the room, but if there is anything you specifically need, please call down, and we’ll have someone find it for you.”

My eyes widen, and I snap my eyes up to Charles.

Our things .

He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“If we are able to gain access into the room, we’ll come and let you know.”

We arrive at the door to our room, and I try to listen to the woman and whatever she is rambling on about, but all I can seem to focus on is the lack of underwear I’m wearing and the fact all of my clothes are currently in the room upstairs.

“We hope you can get some sleep.”

“Thank you,” Charles tells her, pushing open the door.

The second we step inside, I can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Lissie.”

“It is really nice to be fair.”

He shakes his head, scratching at his jaw as he eyes the room. “I think the en suite in the other bedroom was bigger than this.”

“It wasn’t.” I chuckle. “But this is definitely cosy.”

“Is the bed even a king?” He runs his hands through his hair. “There’s not even a sofa.”

“Charles,” I say, my voice playful. “It will be fine. We’ll figure it out.”

He looks at me at a loss and then tilts his head to the side. And if I had to guess, I’d say he’s fighting to keep his gaze on my face.

“Are you comfortable sharing a bed with me?” I ask.

He rubs a hand over his mouth, taking a second glance at the bed. He nods his head. “Of course I am.”

I smile. “Good. I’m happy to share, too.”

He continues to nod. “Good.”

I purse my lips, trying to contain the laugh bubbling up inside.

“What?” he snaps.

“Will you relax? What happened to fun Charles?”

He passes me and steps into the tiny bathroom, coming to a stop at the door. “There isn’t a fun Charles.”

“There is. I’ve had him almost all night.”

He leans in and turns on the shower. “What are you going to sleep in?”

When he turns, I hold up the fabric of my dress between my fingers. “It’s this or nothing.”

He can barely look at me. “You can wear my shirt.”

I make a meal of tracing the width of his shoulders and then his torso. “A dress for a dress. Thank you.”

“Wear whatever you’re comfortable in,” he tells me before quickly shutting the bathroom door in my face.

I roll my eyes and walk across the room to the small window, pushing it open to let the breeze slither in through the gap.

Tonight has been one of the best I’ve had in years. And up until Charles handed me that shot and started opening up to me, showed me that he can loosen up and have fun, that title belonged firmly to my time with the stranger at The Nightingale.

I haven’t even thought about the man in days, and that’s because of Charles. My boss. If you’d have told me when I first met him that I’d not only like him one day, but I’d want to actually spend time with him, I’d never have believed it. And yet I’m here, in Italy, sharing parts of myself I’ve never shared with anyone with that same man. Walking home at midnight with pizza and a bottle of champagne, not caring that I might be borderline obsessed with him.

Not caring because I’m pretty sure he’s borderline obsessed with me, too.

I wait with ease, happily gazing out through the window at the small cove the hotel resides in, golden lights glowing as the groups of people gathered on each of the boats on the water talk or dance. When the bathroom door eventually opens, and I hear Charles step out, I turn with a tired smile on my lips.

“What took you so long?” My eyes widen then move from his face down to his exposed chest and stomach, the towel wrapped around his hips. He’s defined and strong but not bulging muscle anywhere. He’s perfect really.

My eyes meet his again, his face so serious. “Hi, Charles,” I say with a smile, feeling like I’m seeing him for the first time.

Definitely this version of him anyway.

He walks to where I’m standing and hands me his shirt, the room feeling twice as small as it did a moment ago.

“It’s late. We should get some sleep.”

I nod. “I’ll shower and join you.” I smooth my hand over his bicep as I pass him, knowing he’s already in a tailspin. “Will you warm up my side of the bed for me?”

I can’t help but find it a little funny. The man who, when I met him, could barely look at me, didn’t care to look at me, and now look at us.

He can’t take his eyes off of me.

The shower is powerful, and I make quick work of washing my body, ensuring I don’t catch my hair under the spray. When I climb out, I dry off and remove my makeup with the mini products provided by the hotel and then slide into the shirt Charles lent me.

As the soft material sheathes me, my eyes close, my neck twisting so that my nose can run along the collar.

I frown, my mind chasing a memory attached to that smell.

It’s right there, but I can’t…I open my eyes and stare at myself in the mirror.

It’s like my body can pinpoint it, but I can’t. My nipples are erect, eyes darkened.

I’m turned on.

By Charles?

By the smell of him?

Scooping up my dress, I open the door and walk back out into the bedroom. Charles is lying in the bed under the covers, his arm covering half his face.

“You sleeping on me already, Aldridge?”

“Not yet.”

I smile and step up onto the bed, standing on the mattress at his feet. “You’re on my side.”

He moves his arm, looking up at me from his prone position. I can’t help the blush that paints my cheeks, and with my makeup washed away, there’s no way he misses it.

Not with the way he’s looking at me.

“I sleep on the left side.” He clears his throat.

“So do I. Move.”

“No,” he tries.

“Charles.”

He huffs and scoots across the bed.

“Thank you, sweetie,” I tell him, toeing back the covers and sinking down on the left side. “My husband has left it lovely and warm.”

“Don’t push me.”

I side-eye him as he fluffs around with his pillow. “I’m not.”

“I can promise you, you are.”

I roll my eyes when he’s not looking, gathering the covers to pull them over my legs. “By what, simply existing?”

“Yes. By simply existing, Lissie.”

My eyes widen, lips twitching up as I pause. “What?” I chuckle. “Charles, that’s horrible.”

“Lissie,” he warns.

I frown at his tone, my playfulness lost. “Look at me,” I tell him.

He does, almost instantly. And all I find reflected back at me is guilt.

I tilt my head in question, not realising he was so upset.

What did I do to upset him?

“I’m sorry,” he tells me, voice gravelly.

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask.

“What? No.” He rolls onto his side to face me. “I’m…”

Talk to me.

Please.

“What’s wrong?” I try.

Awkwardness settles over us, and I hate it. Mostly because this version of him doesn’t even feel like day one Charles who ignored me.

It feels worse.

“Honestly?”

I nod.

“It felt safe out there, in the corridor. But in here, you next to me and wearing nothing but underwear and my shirt.” He sighs. “You’re impossible to ignore.”

I watch him, trying to keep my face neutral, but I know my smile lurks. And why not. This man looks at me, and I instantly feel like the most beautiful girl in the world.

“The things you do my ego, Charles.” I repeat his words from earlier.

He huffs a laugh, running his hand through his hair, just staring at me.

With the way he’s been so off since walking into this room and sensing he’s still not comfortable now, I get up and grab the two spare pillows from the cupboard.

“What are you doing now?” he asks, sounding so over my shit.

“Making this a safe space for you.” I place the pillows down the centre of the bed. “You cross this line, and you’ll owe me ice cream every day for a month.”

I’m not sure, but I think his eyes gloss over a little. “And if you cross it?” he says, his voice rougher than before.

“Then we’re both screwed,” I say. “I’ll buy you another boat or something.”

He finally smiles at me, and I relax into the pillow, lying on my side facing him.

“Can I ask you a question?” I say, trying to distract him.

“Fire away.”

“What made you want to go into law?”

His brows rise, his fist going under his pillow to prop his face up so he can see me over the divide. “I had no idea what I wanted to do when I was in college. Mason, Elliot, and Lance put some options into a peak cap one night, and I pulled out law school.”

What? “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” He chuckles.

“Why is it always so chaotic with you and them? The house and this. I remember the day I met them at The Montwell, and you were literally having a pillow fight.”

“It’s always been that way. I’d never admit it to them, but they’re like brothers to me.”

“Adorable,” I tease.

He rolls his eyes.

“But you love it—law. You have passion for it now.”

“I do. I unexpectedly found drive and haven’t really stopped chasing it since.”

“I read an article a couple weeks ago that said the Charles Aldridge group was now ranked among the top five law firms. That’s globally.”

He nods. “When we expanded overseas two years ago, things really went crazy.”

“And he just picked it out of a hat,” I say, astonished. “That’s…ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s been some very specific moments in my life where I’ve stood in my office and felt like it’s exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. Granted there’s been moments I’ve wanted to go back and pull out aviation.”

I smile. “You’d make a great pilot.”

“I would,” he agrees, eyes locked on mine, holding, not letting me go. And then he smiles. “You been googling me, Lis?”

My cheeks ache as my own smile grows. “Ed and I were sending info over to the website people to update. Don’t go thinking I’m in love with you.”

“No,” he says, drawing out the word. “You just fancy me a little bit.”

My face roars with heat, and I drag the duvet up to my nose. “Is that going to be a problem?”

He gazes across at me, time passing but not feeling awkward or strained anymore, just…right. “So long as you don’t get infatuated.”

I reach over and brush the bridge of his nose with my pinkie and then hold it up between us. “I won’t. I promise.”

He fights the smile this time, reaching over with his pinkie and brushing over my freckles. He links it with mine, copying me. “Then we should be just fine.”

Just fine.

But then he releases my little finger and slowly, gently, links our entire hands. His large, rough, warm fingers sinking between mine and holding.

I swallow and look up at him. “An entire month, Charles,” I warn, reminding him about the consequences.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he defends, settling our hands on top of the divide.

“I wish you would,” I say brazenly, my voice a whisper. I keep my eyes lowered. “I wish you’d pull me over these pillows and kiss me.”

“Lis.”

“And that. I wish you’d call me Lis all the time. The way it makes me feel…” I frown, embarrassed. “Like home, but brand new too.”

Our eyes don’t waver, and although nothing’s ever happened between us, I can’t help but think we’re too far gone. That whatever has materialised between us is bigger than either one of us anticipated.

“My friends call me Charlie,” he rasps, dusting his thumb up and down my index finger, almost as if he’s nervous. “I’ve wanted you to call me Charlie for a very long time.”

I smile, my heart racing. Something tells me it takes a lot for this man to let people get close enough to call them a friend . “Charlie,” I say aloud, testing the name, but instantly my smile drops, my mind?—

“Fuck, I want you.” His voice is strained as if he’s fighting the words, his jaw flexing as his eyes darken. “I’m not sure I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want you.”

I swallow, his admission unexpected. “You could have me.”

He’s shaking his head before I can finish. “I can’t.”

I frown, my lips pursing.

“Lis…”

My eyes drift closed at my name. “I told you.” I chuckle, rolling over the divide and falling into his chest, my knee slipping between his effortlessly. “I really like it when you say my name like that.”

He swallows, his hand settling on my waist, his nose brushing mine. “I don’t even want you to stop,” he says as if it shocks him.

“I know.”

“We’ve been drinking.”

“I’m fine.”

“It matters.” He screws his eyes tight. “It matters to me.”

I frown at the way his words shake and immediately try to put distance between us, but he stops me, flattening his hand on my back. “Don’t…” He trails off, and I can tell he’s fighting something. Something deep inside. He reaches between us and runs his thumb across my bottom lip, his eyes following. “You test me in a way no one ever has before.”

I tilt my chin up, chasing his touch, desperate. “I don’t mean to.”

“I think that’s the worst part,” he whispers.

“Charlie, please.”

His eyes close, and I know I’m pushing against something I shouldn’t.

I rock forward, running my hand through his hair as our bodies grind together. “Please.”

His hand roams down to my ass, pulling me tighter to him. “We”—his lips brush my ear, my cheek—“can’t.”

I let out a moan as he shifts, the feel of his cock now lined up with my pussy. “Charles…Charles, yes,” I whisper, my mouth parting and so close to his.

His hand slides down and around my thigh, trailing up under the shirt until he reaches my hip bone. “Lissie,” he hisses, body going rigid. “Why aren’t you wearing underwear?”

“I couldn’t wear them with my dress.”

His head falls back, and I chuckle, taking hold of it and pulling it back up to look at me. “Hey!”

“You’re killing me.”

I roll my hips, my clit throbbing with the friction. “I can feel you better like this.”

He opens his eyes and frowns at me, at a loss. “You’re a nightmare.”

“I’ll be whatever you need me to be right now, Charles.”

He places a hand on my hip and stops me. “Lis.”

I open my eyes and relax my hips. “We can’t,” I say, knowing it’s what he’s about to say.

With arousal aching throughout my entire middle, I roll away, dropping back to the pillows.

He leans over me, straightening out the buttons between my breasts before reaching up with two fingers and dusting the hair back from my forehead. “I won’t have you like this. Not after we’ve both drunk so much.”

I nod, wondering what he’d do if I kissed him right now. I reach up and run my hand through his hair. “Okay.”

I can see the fight still in him. The need to slip between my legs and have sex with me. He wants it. I can see it. Feel it. It’s been building between us all week. But something, something more than a bottle of champagne and a couple of shots, is stopping him tonight.

And that is okay.

“If…if when…”

I smile and frown at once, kind of surprised at how vulnerable he’s being. “Talk to me,” I say, stroking the flat of my hand over his jaw.

His eyes sear through me. “If you still wanted this in the morning, if you were sure…” He swallows. “I wouldn’t think twice. This isn’t a case of not wanting you.”

I bite my bottom lip as my smile breaks, shaking my head. “I know.”

My face is glowing, I can feel it, and I honestly don’t care. I roll over the divide, putting myself back on the left side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” he says to my back.

“Going to sleep.”

Silence.

“Lis.”

“Don’t push me, Aldridge.”

“You owe me a boat, sleeping beauty.”

I smile.