Blind Passion

by Bronwyn Stuart

“If you’re sure?”

  “I am.”

  But she had never been more unsure of anything.

  ~

  If Sophie had had more time to think it through she knew she could have found some other way. Unfortunately fear had taken over and her brain didn’t tend to work well under that kind of pressure.

  She knew that in a matter of hours Max could be there. He could be there already despite what the detective thought he knew. Her ex-husband was smart. Very smart. He would not be caught by the end of the day. She knew him well enough to know that.

  She’d lived a sweet existence with the man she’d fallen madly, deeply in love with until about eighteen months ago. That’s when it had all gone wrong and her delusionary world had shattered into millions of violent, broken pieces.

  Shaking her head free of terrible thoughts about terrible times, she looked up at the Plaza Hotel, imagining she could see Brandan’s red-hot fury emanating from the eighth floor. She had a set of different worries to dwell on right then.

  Under any other circumstances Sophie would have loved the boutique façade of the hotel, with its sandstone render and large inviting windows. It was neither showy nor gaudy. From the outside it looked inviting, almost as if you were coming home.

  Home, she thought wistfully.

  What she wouldn’t give to be standing outside of her Tudor style cottage in Adelaide. She’d be wondering what plants would survive the summer, what she’d have for dinner. Track-pants or leggings for lounging around would be the hardest decision of the day.

  Instead, here she was, faced with the prospect of begging a complete stranger to forget her rejection of him and invite her to stay. Again.

  She pushed her way through the revolving doors, careful not to hit her small suitcase against the steel and was disappointed to see the same slimy concierge behind the check in counter.

  “Hello,” he greeted her from behind the desk.

  “Hi, I’m with Mr McAllister,” she refreshed his memory. “I came down to collect my luggage and I forgot to bring the room key with me.” The element of surprise just may be her only friend.

  “No problems, I’ll just grab another key-card for you.”

  She didn’t want to be announced. She wanted to sneak up and catch him off guard so he wouldn’t refuse her the way she’d refused him. He’d want the whole story. She wasn’t ready for that yet but she would have to tell him some of it.

  Apologies would have to come first though.

  Sophie swallowed and tried to dislodge the lump in her throat. If he did turn her away she’d have to try to find a room in a backpacker’s hostel or a caravan park. She could give a fake name there without too many questions and hope a small amount of cash could keep her going until he paid her for the morning.

  She shuddered at the thought of sharing a dorm room with ten other people. It nearly made her sick to think of sharing a bathroom but she would do whatever she had to. Self-preservation right now was her only desire.

  “Here you go.” The concierge gave her a lewd wink and the unpleasant shiver up her spine said he watched her all the way to the elevator. She stepped in, punched the button for the eighth floor and took a deep breath, readying herself for battle.

  Chapter Five

  When the doors opened and she stepped into the room, Sophie could tell something was wrong straight away. The television was off. There were no smells of coffee brewing, no anything. It was dead still and dead quiet. She wondered if Brandan decided to take a nap.

  When she walked into the main lounge, she was surprised to see him standing in the same spot she’d left him. He had his hands on his hips, his mouth set in that grim line.

  Why didn’t he move, why didn’t he say something? Anything? His silence was a hell of a lot scarier than yelling or ranting or roaring. Did he even know she was there?

  “Yes?” he bit out, his rage barely in check. She heard the grind of his teeth from the doorway.

  “I’m sorry,” she offered feebly.

  “Not good enough,” he replied. “You’ll have to give me more than that.”

  “You have to understand I never wanted to take this job in the first place, I’m supposed to have a cocktail in my hand by the pool right now catching up on some reading.”

  “I’m sorry my head injury ruined your plans,” he responded drily.

  “It’s not that,” she sighed, the weight of his coming rejection heavy on her shoulders. He was going to humiliate her, make her share her secrets, and then he was going to boot her out.

  “I changed my mind,” she blurted out.

  “Out of the goodness of your heart I suppose?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, suddenly so unsure of herself. Of him.

  “Come closer Sophie. I don’t bite.”

  She shuffled closer, more out of necessity than a desire to follow his orders.

  “Tell me why?”

  “Why?” She stood in front of him and even though she knew he couldn’t see her, she felt like he was trying to catch a glimpse of her soul.

  “Why did you come back? It wasn’t just to help me. You could take the money and run but you came back. Why?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I want to know,” he reached for her hand again.

  She touched his palm and he closed his fingers around hers. She took strength from the contact though she didn’t want to rely on him for that. “I got a phone call,” she started. It sounded inane, not a good enough reason at all.

  She could lie. She’d thought about it, but somehow, she couldn’t. If she was going to spend a week in his company, sponging off him, she would have to tell him some of it. She owed him that much at least.

  “My ex was arrested a few months ago for domestic violence and stalking.” She paused for a moment and took a few breaths. “The detective just called and told me he escaped from prison this morning in Adelaide.”

  “Who was he stalking, Sophie?”

  “Me,” she replied, barely more than a whisper emerging. She tried to take her hands back, to distance herself from him.

  His grip tightened. He wouldn’t let her go. “Did he hurt you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. Please don’t make me.” Memories of x-rays showing broken bones flashed over her closed eyelids.

  “All right, you don’t have to talk about it yet.”

  “Can I stay?” Was he really going to let her get away with it that easily?

  “You can stay but I can’t protect you, Sophie. I can’t see danger coming.”

  “I’m not looking for your protection, just your room. I can’t use mine now because I paid for it with my credit card.”

  He waited, his lips once again in that grim line. God, how she wanted to look into his eyes, see what kind of man he really was. See what kind of judgment he was mentally passing on her.

  “Okay, okay, I don’t want to be on my own,” she finally admitted, ready now to beg if she had to. “I can’t be alone”

  “You can stay,” he said relinquishing his hold and turning his back to her.

  “I can?”

  “On one condition.”

  “Yes?” This couldn’t be good. She was pretty desperate, but how desperate?

  “You don’t leave me standing in the middle of a strange room again.”

  “Is that why you’re still standing here? Why didn’t you phone the front desk?”

  “How am I supposed to find the phone?”

  She started to smile, though with relief, not humour. She had a roof over her head at least. “What would you have done if I hadn’t come back?”

  “I’m glad you find this so amusing,” he said but this time his tone had lightened and he didn’t seem as angry with her as he had been. “I suppose I would’ve waited for the phone to ring or someone to come and find me dead on the floor.”

  She laughed lightly as she took his hands and walked him backwards to a chair. “A little dramatic don’t you think?”


  The weight on her shoulders was lighter as she pushed the smaller pieces of furniture against the walls and out of the way the best she could. Once that was done Sophie took the smaller of the two rooms, setting her suitcase down on the comforter.

  The space was no less than the other in opulence. It had a huge freestanding European tub in the ensuite bathroom surrounded by small bottles of oils and shampoos under a huge frosted window. She could imagine having a bath illuminated only by candles or the smudged lights of the city. Her toes curled in her sandshoes just thinking about it.

  It would be easy to live in a hotel, with room service for food and maid service for her laundry and cleaning the bathroom. She could hide away from the world forever.

  “Sophie?” Brandan called from the other side of the suite.

  She met him in the doorway of her room.

  “I need you to show me my room.”

  “Coming.” The flutter in her stomach took her breath away again. Even though it was completely innocent, she didn’t want to be in his bedroom with him. If only he would wear his jacket so there was another layer of fabric between her fingers and his skin when she had to touch him.

  She walked him around the room, pointing out obstacles to steer clear of all the while counting back from a hundred in her mind to distract herself. Fortunately like her room, there wasn’t much in the way of furniture, only a bed and side tables with lamps and a phone. Surely he wouldn’t trip over anything in here.

  “Which side of the bed will you sleep on?” she asked.

  “Sorry?”

  “I need to know which side to set the phone up,” she clarified.

  “On the left,” he indicated.

  “Sit down, this’ll take a sec.” Sophie positioned him next to the bed then pushed his shoulder to let him know to sit down. She then set up the phone and told him where it was. He reached out, tried to find it. She took his hand in hers and guided it to the black plastic, putting his long fingers on it.

  His voice dropped low. Husky. “Thank you.”

  It sent a shiver up her spine. She snatched her hand away and started babbling nervously about the how big the bathrooms were and how it would have probably fit her whole room in it.

  “Sophie?” He dug his heels in when she started to pull him out of the room and back into neutral territory.

  “Yep?”

  “You didn’t show me the bathroom.”

  “Oh?” Her cheeks flushed red hot when she took his hand again to show him the toilet and the shower. It must be so embarrassing for him to have to be told every small detail from which was the hot tap to how to flush the toilet. His bathroom not only had a tub like hers, it also had an enormous shower recess with two shower heads on opposite sides. She blushed again when she thought how many couples would have made full use of that shower and its twin jets.

  “That’s it,” she rushed him out into the lounge and then babbled some more about being tired and needing to refresh. She left him standing there, the beginnings of a grin on his lips and the impossible feeling he knew exactly where her thoughts had drifted.

  ~

  But Brandan hadn’t been thinking about embarrassment.

  How could he think about anything with her warm hand holding his? An anchor to the world he was becoming increasingly disjointed from. They could have talked about the weather and he would barely have heard her words over the thundering of his heart. This woman did things to him. Strange things he was fairly sure he didn’t want and absolutely sure he didn’t need.

  He wondered how much of his sudden interest was the fact he was down a sense and how much had to do with Sophie herself. At that moment she was his salvation and eyes and he was grateful but he did not want to grow attached to her in any way or she him. Inevitably, they would part ways, he back to America and her back to her job and her life. He did not need the hassle that always came from a break-up.

  God, he was already thinking about her in ways he shouldn’t. There would be no relationship, no holiday fling, therefore no break-up or feminine meltdown. She obviously had her baggage and he his. Distance was his friend.

  It was going to be an interesting week, he decided as he felt his way along the wall back to the hotel phone. He was hungry and he could do with a drink. Something strong!

  Chapter Six

  It truly was amazing how revitalising a long hot bath could be for a soul. Sophie hummed a little tune as she dressed and decided to take a walk around to get her bearings. She hated not knowing where the chemist was or the supermarket so she put on a pair of short jean shorts, her walking shoes and another strappy singlet, this one with a logo printed across the middle. She let herself out of her room to find Brandan and let him know where she was going.

  She called out to him when she didn’t see him in the lounge or bedroom.

  “I’m out here,” his voice drifted in from the balcony.

  “I’m going out for a quick walk, did you want to come?”

  “Ah, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I won’t let you run into any stoby poles,” she promised with a chuckle.

  “Stoby poles?”

  “Oh, ah, the telegraph pole, you know the poles that hold the electrical wires and phone lines above the ground.”

  “Ah,” he said with a nod as understanding dawned.

  “So, you up for it?” She was champing at the bit to get out and enjoy some sunshine, to escape the close confines of the room. She was sure if she stayed there with a girlfriend the space would have felt much roomier. Brandan took up serious figurative room.

  “Should you be going out in public?” he asked, clearly worried for her welfare.

  “I won’t go far or be gone long. I just need to pick up a few supplies.”

  “I’ll pass this time, thanks.”

  “No probs. I’ll be back in an hour or so. Do you need anything?” She hadn’t missed the change of cadence in his voice. He’d gone from worried to on guard within a few words. Had she been thoughtless to ask him to go out for a walk when he couldn’t take in the sights anyway? She could hardly leave and not ask him to come too. Maybe he just didn’t want her to leave him alone.

  “Where’s your mobile?” she asked him.

  “Mobile?”

  “Your cell phone.”

  “Oh, it’s next to my bed.”

  Sophie ran into his room and grabbed the phone from the nightstand. She quickly worked out how to program his phone and put her number in it.

  “If you need anything, all you have to do is hit the call button twice and I’ll come back.”

  “Take care,” he said to the swish of elevator doors.

  For someone being stalked, Sophie sure seemed casual about walking down the street. Had she so quickly forgotten the story she’d spun him only hours before? Unless it had all been a ruse because she regretted turning him down? What if she’d gotten down the street and his place seemed nicer than hers and that’s why she’d changed her mind?

  His brain went into overdrive conjuring up images of a little schemer. That’s when it occurred to him that he didn’t even know the first thing about her other than what she’d let slip. He didn’t know what she looked like, who she really was. He knew nothing about her at all. How long had she been married to her supposed attacker for instance?

  What if she was lying to him? How could he believe anything she said if he didn’t have any proof? It wasn’t like he could google her name.

  He dialled what he hoped was one on his cell phone and after several rings his PA answered sleepily.

  “Gloria, it’s Brandan.”

  “Hi boss,” she replied, her yawn long and loud.

  “What’s new?”

  “Well, you’re not going to like it...”

  “What?” he growled. If Gloria said he wasn’t going to like something, he was sure to hate it.

  “She’s selling the house.” Gloria didn’t need to specify who ‘she’ was. There was no-one else h
is PA could have referred to. His ex-wife had screwed him over in the divorce claiming he’d been abusive and violent during their five-year marriage. She was right and wrong. He had only become angry after finding out that the baby she’d borne him was not his. Angry, but never violent. Even when it had been blatantly obvious Olivia’s baby wasn’t his, with his jet black hair and dark, Japanese eyes, he hadn’t physically lashed out. He’d wanted too though. He was only glad that out of all the men she’d been unfaithful with, and there was more than one, the stud to knock her up hadn’t been a white guy.

  He could still be living with that shrew raising another man’s child if it weren’t for that. After parting with more than half of his fortune, and his beautiful old house, he never wanted to see her deceitful face again but he was certainly not above playing games with the bitch.

  “How much?”

  “Just a bit under ten million.”

  “Bitch,” he breathed. “Who’s selling it?”

  “Daniel Charris.”

  “Figures.” That greedy son of a bitch had been after his mansion for the longest time. It perched on the corner of prime land right on the edge of Central Park, surrounded by bigger, grander more modern homes. His great-grandfather bought the place dirt cheap more than eighty years before. It had been his pride and joy.

  “It’s not worth ten million,” he stated to Gloria.

  “It’s going to auction at the end of the week, seems she wants a quick sale.”

  “Gloria, send someone over there. I want that house back. I’ll pay whatever it takes.”

  “Are you sure Brandan? She’s probably counting on that.”

  “I know what you’re not saying Gloria and trust me, not even that fire breathing dragon could keep me out of my own house for long.”

  She chuckled at his description of his ex-wife.

  “Gloria, I need you to do one more thing for me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I need you to do a search on a guy called Max Wright. Apparently he escaped from prison this morning in Adelaide.”

  “Um, all right. What’s this about, Boss?”

  “I just need to know if it’s real. If it is can you call me back and e-mail me any info you can find on him. I have to keep these damned patches on my eyes for at least another few days but I’ll look over it all then.”