BLIND: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  Even now, she stoically waited for a promise he couldn’t deliver. The slight curve of her lips gave him pause. It seemed impossible that he’d unearthed this confident side of her. Initially he believed she was unbreakable, but as he got to know her, he discovered the fragile secrets she had and the responsibility to protect such vulnerability became more and more daunting.

  To see her now, so tranquil and at peace with her exposed self, it gave him a modicum of pride. At least he’d helped her recognize a portion of the value she held. If only she knew how much more she had to offer. Knowing she’d someday realize how special she was and how understated her standards actually were, he regretted his own inability to meet them.

  He needed to make her see that this was not the end. She would someday find everything she wanted and it would be real, better than any short-lived fantasy he could fabricate for her.

  Her mouth quivered with the sweetest hint of a smile. “You’re pleased.”

  “I am.”

  His eyes closed as he reciprocated her smile as best he could, but inside his heart was breaking. “And so you should be. It’s been quite a journey.”

  Her shoulders trembled delicately and he wanted to calm any fears, but knew he couldn’t continue to make her promises he couldn’t keep. Gently cupping the side of her face, he ran his thumb across her soft her lower lip. “Be still,” he whispered.

  Turning his wrist, he dragged the backs of his fingers slowly over her jaw and behind her ear. He should stop now.

  Drawing in a slow constricted breath, he whispered the only truth he knew. “It isn’t fair for a woman to hold such beauty.”

  His thumb coasted over the soft curve of her throat, tripping slowly over each ridge of her larynx, teasing the slight curve of her collarbone. Every freckle, every soft curve was so perfectly feminine. No other woman compared, which was why he’d likely return to his world of work and redundant meetings, banishing any hope of ever finding a partner in this life.

  He couldn’t think about that now. He needed to do what had to be done and let her go. His own desolate future shouldn’t concern her or cloud his judgment. This was the right thing to do.

  Keeping his voice low, he spoke carefully. “When I read your letter, I knew there was something special about you, Ms. Farrow. While there was courage in your words, I sensed the absolute desperation of your plea. True, you did not ask to be found—only to be heard—but I found you all the same. Genuine courage is not borne of fear. True courage takes action, despite the fear. You, my lady, feared what?”

  Her lips parted as she softly whispered, “I feared always being alone.”

  “Correct. Yet, you’ve given months to a complete stranger, trusting me to show you something that changes nothing of your predicament outside of these walls. Why?”

  The realization that this was not the end but the means to an end needed to come from her. She’d been the one to meet every challenge and face down her fears. He wanted her to recognize that courage came from her and belonged to her, his presence was merely temporary, an attempt to prove how powerful passion could be.

  Her head lowered. “I wanted to know what it felt like to be adored, cared for, placed at the top of someone’s priority list, Mr. Stone. You said you could give me that experience.”

  And he believed he had, for a time. He’d given her everything he could manage. It simply became too much and he couldn’t give any more. “Do you feel you’ve achieved your goal, Ms. Farrow? Have you felt those very things?”

  “Yes.”

  “And do you have any regrets, Ms. Farrow?”

  “I have no regrets.”

  He smiled sadly. She’d been so easy to adore. Despite what her friends said regarding her standards, she should never lower them. She shouldn’t have to settle. Exactly why he decided to remove himself from the equation.

  “And is the fear gone, Ms. Farrow?”

  He understood fear. The fear of not measuring up, the fear of bleak loneliness, the fear that everything will stay the same or might drastically change. He suffered every version there was, still continued to struggle with overcoming his fears. It was an almost impossible thing to outgrow, but he believed she’d overcome a great deal of her own.

  “Yes, Mr. Stone.”

  “Very good.”

  And so there was nothing left for him to show her. He reached for her hand. “Allow me to help you stand.”

  ****

  “Very good.” He’d said the words as if finding her progress agreeable, but there was something hidden in his tone, as if her achievement wounded him in some way.

  Blinking in concern, Scarlet’s lashes softly brushed behind the dark mask.

  A gentle hand brushed down her arm. “Allow me to help you stand.” There were always hints of chivalry behind his actions, even when his intent was unclear.

  Placing her hand in his, she carefully rose from the cool floor. The front of her body shivered as the heat of his frame encroached on her personal space. Excitement filled her chest. Without placing a finger on her, he leaned close. His scent intensified as his lips delicately traced hers.

  Breath stilled in her lungs as she cherished that long awaited caress, his mouth pressing softly to hers, an innocent brush of affection, trembling with restraint. He’d never kissed her there. It had all been building to this moment, this one point in time.

  “You’re a beautiful woman, Ms. Farrow,” he whispered, his warm breath teasing her parted lips.

  Leaning into him, she frowned as the soles of his shoes scraped over the floor and he pulled away, leaving cool emptiness in the place of his warmth. With his withdrawal came the prickle of fear, fear she’d believed she’d buried.

  “However…our relationship has come to an end.”

  The finality of the word end echoed like a gunshot through the air. Shock knifed through her, hard, jerking her nerves to an unpleasant point of attention as denial suddenly had her shaking. They couldn’t simply end. This was the beginning they’d been waiting for…

  She’d clearly heard him incorrectly. Unable to hide her worry, a chirp of nervous laughter slipped past her lips. “Mr. Stone—

  “This is no laughing matter.” He’d never cut her off before.

  Her eyes burned at the sharp arrival of tears, the tart injection taking her aback. “I…I don’t understand.”

  He became so silent she panicked, loosing her grip on her surroundings, unable to identify where he was. When he finally spoke, his words chilled her soul. “This is over.”

  “What—”

  “My driver will take you home now.” His edict stabbed through her, each syllable slicing into her heart. Where had this come from? What caused such an abrupt change? This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

  Boiling indignation had her scrambling for words. Her limbs trembled as utter bewilderment took hold. Desperate to stop this nonsense, she threw away his rules, her unsteady fingers rushing to the blindfold.

  “Do not.” Catching her slender wrists he snatched them back.

  Her voice broke somewhere below its natural octave. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Life isn’t a fantasy, Ms. Farrow. You need to leave now. And the blindfold stays.”

  She yanked her arms, but his grip only tightened. “What are you afraid of?” she snapped, her patience fraying too fast for her to salvage her composure.

  He stepped closer, his clothing brushing her exposed breasts. “I’m not afraid. I simply know what I want and what I don’t need.”

  Her. He didn’t want or need her. She’d had enough of the games. Her mouth compressed, betraying her poise, as she begged, “Let me see you.”

  “No.”

  She jerked her arms in an attempt to remove the blindfold once more, but his strength and control outweighed hers.

  His voice lowered as he carefully enunciated each word. “Careful, Ms. Farrow. You’ve come here of your own free will. You will honor my wishes not to be seen if you expect me to resp
ect your privacy. There’s no end to the ways I can exploit you.”

  Beyond her anger was the reality of earth shattering, humiliating betrayal. She’d foolishly trusted him. Former concerns rushed to the forefront of her mind, stealing any false sense of security she’d imagined. Had he recorded their encounters? There was so much she risked in order to be with him, trusting him not to harm her—a total stranger. God, she was a fool!

  Blinking in the darkness, she finally understood. This wasn’t about her trust. It was about his, his inability to trust anyone other than himself!

  Her voice cracked, hating the powerless position she held. “Why can’t you trust me?”

  “Because at the end of the day, I’m still me. This is best for both of us. You’ll move on.”

  Her chest constricted as if her heart were actually breaking in two. “Don’t do this.”

  “It’s done.”

  Every bit of unrequited affection flipped into indignation, equally as intense, but altogether different. Jaw locking, she wheezed from the pain and whispered, “I hate you.”

  He wouldn’t even touch her. “You have every right. I’m so sorry. Goodbye, Ms. Farrow.”

  ****

  Reaching into his pocket, Asher removed his phone. His hands trembled terribly as his vision blurred. Sweeping his thumb over the screen, he sent an already typed text to Steve telling him to come get her. Shutting his eyes, trying to block out her gasps, he raced to the door as it opened and Steve entered, a look of shock taking over his face as his eyes jerked away from Scarlet’s naked form.

  He couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes. He was too ashamed of what he’d done. He should have never involved himself in her life. This entire attempt to be someone else ended in another disgraceful failure, his inadequacies driven home with the force of a meteor.

  Steve caught his arm as he shoved past him, his eyes searching for some form of explanation.

  “Please,” Asher wheezed, finding it impossible to hold his emotions inside. “See that she gets home safely.”

  Disbelief flashed in Steve’s eyes as Asher shook off his hold and raced down the front steps. The cold cut through his clothes as he hurried around the side of the mansion to his car. Pressure built in his chest so tight he worried he was having some sort of attack. He climbed inside, jamming the key in the ignition and missing completely as his shaking transcended to a full body tremor. “God damn it!” he shouted.

  When the keys finally slid into the hole he overturned the motor and sped away from the house. He took the turns furiously, breath panting through his teeth as the consuming pain in his chest tightened.

  His fingers gripped the wheel as his jaw locked. His vision blurred.

  Go back to her. You can fix this.

  With every passing mile he begged himself to turn around, but the coward inside of him held its ground on a continued escape. The further he went the more permanent his decision became.

  He couldn’t imagine her calling for him. She’d likely already made up her mind to hate him forever. That was best. He blew out a harsh breath. He’d always be less than what she deserved and the sooner she realized that the better off she’d be.

  ****

  Scarlet’s knees softened and she collapsed like a broken doll to the floor, a marionette cut loose from its strings. For several minutes she cried blindly on the cool tile. What sort of a mind fuck had she consented to? This wasn’t what she’d asked for, hoped for, and nothing close to what she assumed they’d shared.

  Her chest shook with each gut-wrenching sob. Why? It was the only word she could think in that moment.

  A throat cleared and Scarlet stilled like a small creature in the presence of a great, unforeseen predator. She reached for the mask—

  “I’m afraid the mask must stay on, Ms. Farrow, or there could be consequences.” It was Pennyworth.

  “Why is he doing this?”

  “I don’t know, Ms. Farrow.” The weight of her coat whispered over her shoulders.

  Who were these people? Dropping her trembling hands, she bitterly denigrated herself for not taking that question more seriously until now. Her ignorance was frightening and her own stupid fault.

  It was all fake for him, but so very real for her. The pain consumed her and she shook with the effort of containing it.

  “If you’ll allow me to help you… The rest of your clothing’s in the Mercedes and once we’re a few miles out you’ll have permission to remove the blindfold. I’ll deliver you home, safely, as promised.”

  His voice was always soft and kind, now spoke of barely contained rage, which made her reluctant to go with him. But what other choice did she have. Reluctant to trust anyone, she begged, “Please don’t hurt me.” Her disgrace bloomed into crippling humiliation.

  “Never, Ms. Farrow.” Her feet left the ground as strong arms lifted her to a warm chest. “I have you. The cars only a few feet away.”

  Beneath her confusion rested gratitude for his assistance. Cold wind bit into her exposed skin as he quickly carried her down the steps. He fed her into the warm leather-scented car idling and shut the door.

  As soon as he reached the driver’s seat the car swayed into motion. Her head rolled back, her body weak from the emotional assault she still couldn’t fathom. Debased. It was the only reoccurring word that made sense in that moment. He’d debased her without even fucking her. He’d betrayed her, tricked her into loving him, while knowing full well that nothing would ever come of her wasted heart.

  She’d likely be waiting a long time for the fallout of their experience to stop resonating. It traveled beyond hurt, reaching to such depths, filling her with such angst the pain gradually transcended to numb agony.

  For as lonely as her world had been three months ago, returning to it—cherished, then rejected—made her perfectly aware of just how vacant her future would be. Nothing was worth such anguish.

  Suddenly furious, she wanted no trace of him left on her body. “I’m taking this off. Go ahead and tell him.”

  She ripped the blindfold from her face, peeling back the lace moistened by tears. The chauffeur sighed, but didn’t object. He appeared quite distraught for an outsider and she took comfort in their fragile alliance—unsure how it compared to his loyalties to Mr. Stone.

  Needing the shelter of her clothing, she ignored her surroundings and hastily dressed, her survival instincts kicking into autopilot. Spontaneous words laced with anger came barreling from her lips.

  “You can tell him I never want him to contact me again. He’s not the man I thought he was. No man would do this. He’s just a scared little boy and you can tell him I said so.”

  The driver remained silent, his eyes modestly avoiding the mirror, but his brow creased with what she assumed was uneasiness. While he didn’t verbally agree with her assessment of his employer, he also didn’t disagree.

  She saw more than anyone realized—blind or not. She’d read Mr. Stone and sensed his vulnerability. She loved that gentle part of him that seemed to need what they shared as much as she did, but he’d destroyed everything.

  He lacked the courage to see the person he truly was. But Scarlet saw him. Blind or not, she saw the real him and knew one day he’d come to see his mistake.

  ****

  Asher didn’t return home for several hours. When he finally entered the house, the sky was deep mauve announcing the oncoming light of a new dawn. Arms weak and shoulders burdened, he staggered into the den.

  “You’re back.” Steve’s words interrupted his assent to the couch.

  “Hey,” he rasped. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”

  Steve rested his elbows on his knees, his brow pinched as he shook his head. “I’m leaving, Ash.”

  “What?” He was so tired.

  “I quit.”

  Asher turned. “Why?”

  “I can’t work for someone who does whatever it is you do.”

  Knowing he’d asked a lot of the other man, but unable to take any mo
re criticism than he’d already drilled into himself, he defensively asked. “And what is it I do, Steve?”

  “You’re a bully. And I made you stronger.”

  He scoffed. Knowing full well what a bully was and that he wasn’t one. “You don’t know the first thing about bullies.”

  “No? When I was a kid I had terrible acne. I was scrawny and short and always picked last in gym. I wasn’t always the man I am now. But at least I can claim to be a man. A real man knows his strength and doesn’t flaunt it. He takes responsibility for his actions. A real man doesn’t do what you did to that woman.”

  I am not a bully! He ended things because he couldn’t handle what they had. “Do you think I hit her, Steve? I’d never—”

  “No. What you did was worse. You dishonored her, humiliated her, and used her in a game to satisfy some sorry part of yourself with no intention of taking responsibility for your actions. And I helped you.”

  He swallowed. “You don’t understand.” He couldn’t explain his decision. He was exhausted and mentally drained. “If you love someone, you let them go. You do what’s best for them. That’s what I did.”

  “You don’t get it, do you? A bully doesn’t have to use his fists to hurt someone. He’s just a coward passing off his pain to someone that doesn’t deserve it.”

  Asher swallowed painfully. “I never meant to hurt her.”

  “Then you seriously lost control of the situation, Asher. I had to wrap her naked body in a coat and carry her to the car. You killed her.”

  No. He didn’t want to hear this. “She’ll recover.” She was strong.

  “You left!” Steve snapped, jumping to his feet. “You didn’t see the look in her eyes or hear her sobs! How could you think your actions wouldn't hurt her? Have you ever even talked to her?”

  “Have you?”

  “Yes!”

  Asher stilled. Scarlet had mentioned she and Steve talked, but Steve had strict instructions not to reveal any of his personal business. “You weren’t supposed to.”