BLIND PASSION
by Bronwyn Stuart
Cover design by Bronwyn Stuart
Copyright © 2020 Bronwyn Stuart
Kindle edition
First edition 2020
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Chapter One
Please don’t crash, please don’t crash, please don’t crash.
Never mind that Sophie Wright’s internal monologue didn’t hold nearly the amount of conviction it should have. She squeezed the upholstery beneath her knees hard as the movement of the aircraft pushed her further into the seat. She would have transferred her death grip but the passengers sitting either side had already claimed the two small blue armrests.
Closing her eyes, she willed the tension to ease, the rattling to cease and the plane to lift from the runway. It would be just her luck for the nose to overbalance, for the tip of the Jumbo to eat a little hot bitumen and the rest of the plane to crumple and fall apart on impact. If she was lucky, 289 passengers and 8 out of the 9 crew members would walk away without a scratch. If she was really lucky, her nightmare of a life could finally end and peace could claim her.
But then luck wasn’t with her much these days.
With her eyelids still closed, the cabin pressure eased, the sounds returned to normal, the motorised wings levelled out and the bumpy ride turned into an easy climb to thirty thousand feet. Another successful take-off. It was the only part of the flight she hated even though she did it almost every day, usually a couple of times.
“I know you aren’t sleeping,” a voice chimed annoyingly from her left.
“What do you want, Gavin?”
“Not me. Joan. She wants to see you.”
“Did you tell her this is just a joyride for me?” Anxiety made her patience that much thinner. She was off duty. In fact, she was a breath away from a very long-awaited holiday and really couldn’t be bothered with last minute hassles from her boss or anyone else.
“She needs your help with something.”
Sophie groaned and opened her eyes, squinting a little in the harsh, synthetic light. “Can you ask her to come see me? It’s not every day I get to sit down for an entire flight.”
“You’re the boss.” Gavin gave her a two-finger salute and then walked back the way he’d come.
If only life were easier. If only her holiday was a real holiday and not just a front for I-have-a-stalker-so-I’m-disappearing-for-a-bit. No one else but the crew on flight QB0930 knew where she was getting off and that’s the way Sophie wanted to keep it. Low key. Ask no questions and I’ll tell you no lies sort of stuff.
“Sophie?”
She looked up into the dull brown eyes of her supervisor. “Hi Joan.” She tried to inject a little enthusiasm into her voice but when you stared down the barrel of a court case, a psychotic ex and moving from the house you loved, well, what was there to be excited about?
“I have one more favour to ask.”
Sophie stifled another groan. “I’m on vacation time now. You know that.”
“It won’t take long and you’ll get paid for it. Cash.”
That sparked her interest. Her funds were critically low and another pay cheque could mean the difference between a relaxing—meaning boring—holiday and a kick-ass one to take her mind off her troubles. “What do you need?”
“Have you ever heard of Brandan McAllister?”
Sophie thought about it for a sec. “He’s in construction, isn’t he?” She vaguely recalled something about a Bachelor of the Year award and the tycoon’s name being linked. Yet another man with more money and good looks than sense.
Joan nodded, her eyes darting this way and that as she leaned closer, her attempt at subterfuge a little overdramatic. “He needs someone to go with him to the hospital when we land.”
Sophie couldn’t quite believe her ears. Did no one care she’d earned this vacation time fair and square? That she needed it to hold on to what little remained of her dwindling sanity? “Well I’m not doing it,” she replied with indignation, resisting the urge to stamp her foot like a child against the hollow floor.
“I’ve got no one else and neither does he. It’s only a couple of hours. Please, Sophie?”
“What’s the matter with him?”
“He was involved in some kind of accident. He has an appointment with a doctor in Brisbane later today.”
Sophie mulled over the information. Or at least that’s what it looked like she was doing. There was no way she was going to spend the first day of her well-earned R&R man-sitting one of the world’s most eligible bachelors. She didn’t know much about Brandan McAllister but she guessed he’d be like most other American billionaire bachelors. Spoilt and half-crazy with power. Then there was the cold reality that she hated hospitals with a fear bordering on paralysing. Just to think about the stale smell of antiseptic and disinfectant made her fingertips tingle and caused her stomach to flutter uncomfortably.
There was no way, no how.
Eventually Sophie slowly shook her head. “Sorry. Can’t do it.”
“What’s up with you these days, Soph?”
“Nothing. I just don’t have time. I have to book into my room by one or I’ll lose it.” It was some of the truth.
“You’ll have plenty of time. Please, I’m begging you. If he gets off this flight and isn’t completely satisfied, he can cause all kinds of problems for the airline. For me.”
God, how she hated the guilt trip. If there was a picture for it, it would be the one with the nose of the plane in a million pieces on the tarmac. Messy and a tiny bit over-done but that’s how it felt.
She sighed. “Okay, okay. What do I have to do?” She might be in a world of personal turmoil but her job meant everything to her and she wouldn’t do anything to see herself or Joan fired.
After a brief rundown on the plan, Sophie unbuckled her seatbelt and approached the curly head in 4A Joan pointed out to her. By the time she got level with Brandan McAllister, the nerves had ratcheted up again until all she wanted to do was sprint back to her uncomfy seat and ignore the fact she was a team player.
Not wanting to disturb the other passengers or make a big deal out of introducing herself, she leaned in close but then gasped and straightened again, her hand over her mouth. She’d expected a billionaire with a billionaire-type injury. Golf incident, polo crash, broken hand from actually doing something with it.
Not for this guy. Around his head, below thick dark curls, a white bandage criss-crossed from his brow to the tip of his nose. Purple, black, red and green bruises marred his cheeks, and his top lip was split in at least three places.
Definitely not your average yachting accident.
Brandan McAllister cleared his throat and swung his head in her direction. Thank God he couldn’t see her reaction or the way she stood frozen like a dummy! What was she supposed to say anyway? I’ll be man-sitting you for the morning?
“Mr McAllister, uh, my name is Sophie and I’ll be taking you to the hospital once we land.”
There, it was out.
No going back and no backing out.
~
Brandan let her voice wash over him. Since he’d taken his seat on the 747 he’d only spoken to one other person for long enough to swallow what was left of his pride and ask for help. Otherwise he’d pretty much been ignored by the passenger next to him and everyone else.
But he felt the stares.
How could he not when he must look like someone who’d gone ten rounds with a champion heavyweight. And had his ass handed to him! The prickli
ng sensation on the back of his neck told him Sophie was staring. Hard.
Moments ago he’d been as close to panic as he’d ever been with the sounds of the plane’s engines powering up and the jarring tension of the others on the flight. For the millionth time he cursed that he couldn’t see a damned thing. Never in his life had he been more helpless and it grated on his nerves in the most dangerous way. He was literally riding the edge.
“Sophie?” he repeated her name, waiting for her to talk again and prove that he was still on planet Earth rather than planet blind claustrophobia.
“Sophie Wright,” she said, introducing herself properly. “I’m a flight attendant with Qantas.”
“I don’t want to take you away from your work,” he said, guilt pricking his conscience. Being helpless was one thing but being a burden was quite another.
“Oh, I’m not working right now,” she told him, not offering any more information than that.
“Just a joy flight then?”
“I’m on my way to Brisbane for some vacation time.”
“Well, thank you, Miss Wright. I’ll try not to keep you any longer than necessary.”
“I’ll come back for you when we’ve touched down,” she said, the soft shuffling sound of her shoes the only indication she’d left.
Brandan may have been blind for the last twenty-four hours but his ears still worked just fine. The iciness that infused her voice baffled him. He wondered what had upset her. Maybe she resented looking after him when she obviously had other plans.
He’d always prided himself on his sense of a person’s character. If they looked you in the eye when they talked or if they fidgeted nervously and looked away. But now he was at a loss. The only image crossing the backs of his eyelids was the one he suspected would be with him for quite some time. The one where he’d been minding his own business, looking over a project in Darwin, thousands of miles away from his home in The States, and then being involved in an explosion.
Wrong place, wrong time.
He’d stopped to watch an excavator dig into hard, sun-baked earth, its huge orange arm rhythmically lowering, scraping, lifting, tipping, when the bucket hit something not made of dirt. He’d listened as the hydraulics whirred, the driver giving it a little more power to get through whatever blocked its way. When the ground shook beneath his feet, he froze to the spot, unable to move, unable to tear his eyes from the flame that shot out of the ground, tipping the earth mover onto its side like a child’s toy.
The next thing Brandan knew, he was on his back on the ground looking through a haze of smoke and dirt. Pain made it hard to even take a breath, blink or think, as he wondered why black spots grew in front of his eyes.
And then nothing.
Absolute darkness and nothingness.
Until he’d woken in the hospital, unmistakable smells and sounds, murmuring voices. But no flickering lights, no pink nurse’s uniforms or plain painted walls. He smelled the fragrance from the flowers at his bedside but couldn’t have identified the blossoms to save his life.
There was only the continuing blackness. And maybe a little bit of panic to add to the mix.
All right, a heap of panic.
The doctor had quietly informed him of the head injury he’d received. His best mate and foreman apologised profusely saying nothing like that had ever happened on one of his sites before. The driver of the earth mover, protected by the massive machine’s reinforced cabin when it tipped over, came by to say how sorry he was. That there were no reports of a gas line where he’d been digging. Bloody bad luck it was.
Brandan heard it all though he was so numb he didn’t really respond. He heard the prognosis that he may never see again. Tried to concentrate when it was explained they wouldn’t know the true extent of the damage until the swelling receded. He could hear every damned thing around him but couldn’t see danger if it barrelled down a highway on a clear day with an hour’s notice.
Damn. He had to stop slipping back into recollections. He had to look to the future—okay, not literally—and his future was an appointment with an older, more experienced doctor in Brisbane. The rookie or whatever they called them in Darwin sounded fresh out of medical school, unsure, hesitant, unknowing.
And now there was Sophie Wright. Apart from the iciness and resentment, when she’d first spoken, her voice had been like a soothing balm to his already fraught nerves.
After putting his seatbelt on, feeling the dip of the plane as it banked, getting ready to land, he wished she’d sat next to him. He wished he’d chartered a plane, not that there’d been one available despite the money he’d offered to pay. Then again, he would rather hear the incessant chatter from those around him than the noise of the engines, the wind whistling past the window, the muted conversations of the other passengers as they hit a patch of turbulence. White noise was far more preferable to silence.
His knuckles ached and stretched where they gripped the arms of the business class chair, his feet pressed firmly into the floor, praying they made it to the ground in one piece.
No, he decided with a frown and a muttered curse. Being helpless was something he would never get used to.
Chapter Two
As soon as the plane came to a stop and the captain wished all a good day, Sophie retrieved her hand luggage from the galley and made her way to 4A where her charge sat. “Mr McAllister? Are you ready to disembark?”
Drawing a fortifying breath, his shoulders lifting with the effort, he rose from his seat. Sophie was forced to step back as his tall frame unfolded. She had never expected him to be so…so…big.
“God damn it,” he swore, as his bandaged head bumped the overhead storage lockers.
“I’m so sorry,” she apologised. “I should have warned you about that.” Instead of staring at his very well-built body.
“Yes, you should have,” he bit out, one hand rubbing his head, the other feeling along the casing of the overhead lockers until he was clear.
She moved forward a little as he shuffled sideways into the narrow walkway. Apart from hitting his head, his movements were fluid, almost graceful. She’d expected him to be clumsy since he was down a critical sense but he was far from that.
“We’ve organised a wheelchair to be waiting at the gate for us. Do you have any hand luggage?” she asked as she mentally shook herself. What did she do next? Take his hand? His elbow? Talk him through the obstacles?
“Only this.” He held up his navy pin-striped suit jacket. All he had were the clothes on his back? At that moment he didn’t look like a successful businessman. He looked like he’d been rolling around in the dirt. “And no wheelchair. My legs still work just fine.”
“No luggage at all?” Sophie knew she sounded daft but it was hard to believe anyone would fly to another state in a foreign country without any belongings, not even a briefcase.
His voice was dry as he replied, “I didn’t really have time to pack.”
Blushing all kinds of pink from sheer embarrassment, she took his arm, warmth emanating from beneath the pale blue cotton of his business shirt, and guided him from the plane. She tried not to pull him along as they walked slowly down the stairs to the tarmac, all eyes of the waiting passengers behind glued to their every movement.
She couldn’t imagine what it would be like, in the dark. Completely reliant on strangers. But at the same time, she was impatient to be done with the task at hand. Every day was probably a holiday for Brandan McAllister, bachelor tycoon, living it up, but for her they were few and far between and every minute was precious.
The sun was high in the sky and already Sophie’s back and neck grew warm as they made their way along the marked path into the air-conditioned arrivals area.
“I need to get my stuff,” she explained, her grip tightening to let him know he had to stop. “Here’s a seat. I’ll be back in a sec.” She pushed his shoulder until he began to sit. His tall frame was so stiff he just about fell.
She breathed a sigh of relief
once he was at a lower level. She didn’t mind quietly admitting she felt a bit intimidated standing next to someone who was at least a foot taller than her five feet four inches and nearly twice as broad. He looked more like a rugby player than a businessman.
While waiting for the baggage carousel to bring her suitcase, Sophie bought herself a bottle of water and a mars bar from a newsagency and then went back to join the rest of the passengers until her black case with the red kangaroo came into view. Extending the handle, she wheeled it to where she’d left her injured billionaire.
“Mr McAllister, are you ready to go?”
He nodded, short dark curls falling over the bandage on his forehead and eyes. “You can call me Brandan.” Even injured and in the dark, he still sounded in command and in control.
“Sure, Brandan, let’s go.” Empathy won out over impatience and told her she should do everything she could to make him more comfortable. She wondered if he would want to share her chocolate bar but then her stomach growled, reminding her how hungry she was. She should have bought two. Or three. In all the time she’d been flying for a living, she could never eat while they cruised thousands of feet about soil and sea.
Emerging back into the sunshine and heat, Sophie pulled Brandan to a stop in front of the line of taxi’s and cars waiting to ferry passengers to their various destinations. It was quite a task to keep her suitcase in one hand and the bachelor in the other and steer them all straight. Her gaze landed on the black stretch limousine with a gut-wrenching feeling. She didn’t want to be the centre of attention as they were sure to be if that was his car.
It had been a long time since Sophie cared about being the centre of attention.
After her recent worries she didn’t want to call any notice to herself. Apart from a few of her colleagues, no-one was supposed to know she was even there.
“Please tell me that’s not your car,” she muttered as she let go of his arm, all thoughts of empathy and comfort disappearing as her anxiety ratcheted up.
“How the hell am I supposed to know?” he growled, hands out in front of him searching for obstacles as he attempted to take a step.
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