Blind Passion

by Bronwyn Stuart

  Since when had her voice sounded like music? Since when had he paid that much attention to a woman’s voice? Either the words coming out of their mouths were annoying, professional or seductive. He got seductive a lot. Even when they were supposed to be being professional. At six feet four inches with deep green eyes, brown curly hair that went wild in the rain and money in the bank, he was often the centre of unwanted attention. Including his recent ridiculous nomination for Bachelor of the Year. Being a recent divorcee meant he shouldn’t have even been nominated.

  He’d barely spoken fifty words to Sophie but he found himself wanting to ask her questions she would have to answer with more than one word. He needed to know someone was there. That he wasn’t alone.

  Maybe not her though. He was still angry with the way she’d run out on him in the hospital. He couldn’t trust her and for him, a man who was self-made through his business dealings, it was worse than being alone in the dark.

  No. He would not ask her to describe the hotel to him. He would just have to trust that his Personal Assistant had done some research before she’d found his accommodation. Never mind that it had been the early hours of the morning when she’d answered his call and he’d barked his orders at her. She was used to him by now, especially with the drama of his recent divorce still hanging over his head like a blunt guillotine ready to fall at any moment.

  He sighed. He must be getting tired if his thoughts were turning melodramatic. He must have been almost dead from exhaustion if his thoughts were straying to the end of his short but painful, messy marriage.

  Relief he didn’t want to feel filled him when Sophie’s grip tightened as she helped him into the hotel with a muttered, “Careful of the step.”

  “Welcome to The Plaza,” came a male voice from behind what he assumed was the check-in counter when his stomach bumped against it.

  He introduced himself to the voice and asked if he could extend his stay by a few days. A few moments of computer keys tapping and he was informed that the only room they had for that many days was a two room suite on the eighth floor of the hotel.

  “Is it the only room on that floor?” he asked.

  “Yes sir, it can be accessed only by key card in a semi-private elevator. You will not be interrupted.”

  “Excellent. I’ll take it.”

  Sophie was silent until after he’d blindly signed the paperwork, handed over his AMEX and received two key cards for the apartment. “There’s a hole in the wall just over here,” she said.

  “I beg your pardon?” A hole in the wall? Maybe they were doing renovations?

  “An ATM. An automatic teller. You were going to pay me?” Fury or something else simmered in her voice. He couldn’t place the emotion but he took a step back from it and her. Right into a pot plant.

  After he’d fought his way free of what felt like sharp palm fronds trying to pull him in deeper, he was angrier than he should have been. He couldn’t even move a step without running into something. It was probably the only piece of furniture in the vicinity and he’d managed to get entangled. He was going to make a scene and that was the last thing he wanted. Well, the second last. He was about to ask the last thing he wanted for a favour.

  Through teeth almost gritted, he said to her, “I have a business proposition for you.”

  “I’m on holidays. No time for business.”

  Deep breath. “I know that and if there was anyone else I could ask I would, believe me.”

  “Ask what?”

  “Can we go up to my room so I can explain it to you there?” He didn’t want to admit his helplessness in front of God knew who. He cursed under his breath.

  He didn’t want to her to stay, she clearly didn’t want to be there, but there was no-one else and he was going to need help whether he liked it or not.

  “Can’t you tell me here?”

  Brandan would have rolled his eyes at her obvious reluctance.

  If he’d been able to.

  “No,” he snapped and then remembered her needed her. “Anyway, I need to get your bank details so I can have the money transferred to your account.” He knew he couldn’t withdraw that much cash from an ATM. He shook his head at the ‘hole in the wall’ saying.

  “Okay, okay.” She took his arm and led him to the waiting elevator. When she took the key card from him, her fingertips brushed his and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to snatch his hands back or hold on and not let go until his vision returned. He hadn’t been this terrified of being alone ever. He usually loved his own company and a bit of peace and quiet.

  The lift ride was a short one, not enough time for Sophie to gather her wits, and all too soon the stainless steel doors slid open with a swish revealing one of the most opulent foyers she’d ever seen her reflection in. Beige marble floors leading to a darker beige marble flecked in what she hoped wasn’t actually real gold and a mirrored archway led into a furnished lounge area. She didn’t want to take his arm again but they were still standing in the elevator so she walked him into the room.

  She was in awe.

  “What does it look like?” he asked.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. And it was. Everywhere she looked there was something expensive. The gold edged Japanese vase filled with pink gerberas on the corner table, the flat-screen television suspended on the wall surrounded by bright oriental paintings. Even the couches were expensive leather chesterfields. She guessed when you paid ten grand a week for a suite you had to expect this kind of thing.

  “We’re here now, what did you want to ask?” She already had a bad feeling being there. This wasn’t part of the original deal and they both knew it. All of a sudden Sophie couldn’t seem to stand still. She gulped when she spotted the huge four poster bed in the master suite as she walked past the door. She stuck her head into the bathroom and crossed her fingers that her small moderately priced hotel room on the other side of town had that kind of tub. A person could live in a bath like that.

  Brandan’s shuffling steps brought her attention back to the entry way, his arms were outstretched so he wouldn’t trip over anything. Unfortunately his arms couldn’t feel the small coffee table that was directly in front of him. Before she could call out a warning, he tripped over it and landed on the floor just missing the corner of a cabinet with his head.

  “Oh my God, are you okay?” She rushed over to help him up but when she lay her hand on his back he swore, then flinched, then swore some more.

  “Goddamn table,” he roared, rubbing his shins, still sitting on the floor.

  Sophie knew she shouldn’t but she just couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled up from her insides. Her shoulders shook as he got up. He didn’t move far, he just stood and sent a fierce scowl in her direction. She knew she shouldn’t have laughed, it was cruel, but he was being such a bad-tempered baby. Sure he had good reason for his awful mood but taking it out on Sophie or the table wasn’t going to help him. She was beginning to get a pretty good picture of what type of billionaire he was. A spoiled one used to getting his own way in everything. Even from a coffee table.

  “Enjoying yourself?” he bit out.

  “I am now.” She’d stopped giggling but was still smiling as she shifted the coffee table back towards the wall. It was like when someone hit their funny-bone and everyone thought it was hilarious except for the person with the sore elbow. Sophie was done tiptoeing around Brandan McAllister. She hadn’t taken his eyesight from him but he had taken nearly a whole day of her vacation and she was done. Done with his temper. Done with his arrogance and done with touching him every time he needed to move. Even though he really was nice to look at below the neck, she didn’t feel comfortable being so close to him. Feeling his heat and inhaling his scent. It was unsettling.

  She went over to the little desk in the corner and scribbled down her bank details and phone number. She was absolutely one hundred and ten percent done.

  ~

  “Sophie, I want you to stay,” Brandan blurted
into the silence. Her gasp prodded him to clarify, “I can’t get a carer and as you can see it’s not safe for me to be on my own.” He cringed at his words. Now he’d made himself sound like an idiot and an invalid.

  “Can’t you see if someone from the hotel can do it?” she said, her tone short and sharp. “Maybe they have someone on staff with medical training?”

  “What, and have them rob me blind?”

  “May I point out that you have nothing to steal?”

  “No,” he snapped, his irritation growing. “You may not.”

  “How do you know I won’t steal from you?”

  “I trust you.” Once again his lips reacted without asking his brain first. He didn’t know the first thing about her. In fact, most of the day’s events should lead him to be very doubtful of her character. Except that she had sort of helped him so far, although clearly not out of the goodness of her heart.

  “You don’t even know me,” she said, practically repeating his thoughts.

  He swallowed down the last of his pride. “I need help, you already know that.”

  “I can’t,” she cried, her voice moving from one side of the room to other. Her thudding footsteps told him she was pacing. “I’m on holidays. I’ve already paid for my hotel.”

  “I’ll cover your costs,” he replied without hesitation. If she wouldn’t do it to be kind perhaps there was more than a hint of an opportunist inside her.

  “What?” she asked incredulously.

  “I’ll pay you.”

  “You couldn’t pay me enough to be around you twenty four hours a day.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  When she didn’t answer, he asked again through clenched teeth, “What did you say?” He couldn’t have heard her right. No one spoke to him like that.

  No one.

  “I meant, it’s my holiday, I want to be alone, not hanging around doing nothing.”

  “So, on this great, fabulous holiday on your own,” he stressed the words. “What were you planning on doing?”

  “Doing?”

  “You know, as opposed to being here doing nothing? Were you going to go gliding? Surfing? Dancing?”

  “That’s none of your business,” she bristled.

  He followed the direction of her voice and reached for her hand. For a few seconds, there was only air but then she slipped her fingers into his. “Would it really be that bad?” he said, stroking his thumb across the back of her knuckles.

  “No!” She snatched her hand from his. “I mean, yes. I mean, I can’t stay here with you.”

  He formed an argument in his mind, ready to hit her with all the charm he had, ready to dazzle her, but then she was pressing what felt like paper into his hand.

  “There’s my bank account details. You can get one of the hotel staff to read it to you. I really do have to go now.”

  “Sophie,” he called after her, the retreating thud of her footsteps on the floor vibrating through him with their finality.

  A ping sounded as the elevator hit their floor, the doors opening with a swish. “Sophie, please, we can work something out.”

  Another swish as the doors closed, the whirring sound of a lift car in motion the only reply he was going to get.

  Standing in the middle of the room—or what he hoped was the middle of the room—he kicked himself for the fool he was. He’d thought he could charm her into staying with him, or at least pay her to stay. He still wasn’t even sure she was the best person to help but she was his only option.

  He shouldn’t have touched her, he knew that for sure. Her skin was so smooth, so soft, her flowery perfume hovering at the edges of his senses.

  At the forefront of it all, bleeding away the helpless frustration, was the one feeling he hadn’t expected to experience again for a long time, hadn’t wanted to feel for a long time.

  Aroused.

  Chapter Four

  Sophie sat on the front passenger seat of the limo next to Mick, still trembling. She was shaken to the core from Brandan’s innocent touch. She’d been so busy thinking what a nuisance he was, what a hiccup he was to her plans, she hadn’t seen him.

  Hadn’t given him a chance.

  His touch on her skin was like someone had plugged her into a socket of good feelings and the current took her breath away. She closed her eyes, thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to spend a week in his beautiful apartment. Swimming in the rooftop pool. Ordering room service without worry over the bill. Relaxing for the first time in longer than she could remember in a tub bigger than her bed.

  Sophie was about to give in and go back and tell him yes, hell yes, but then she remembered why she was in Brisbane in the first place. She had to keep her distance from him and her secrets to herself.

  But damn that man was smooth.

  “Where to little lady?” Mick asked her with a smile.

  “Ah, I-” But her words were cut off by her cell phone ringing in her handbag.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. This would probably be Joan to tell her she was fired. Could Brandan have called in his complaint that quickly?

  “Hello?” she sighed into the little pink flip phone.

  “Can I speak to Sophie Wright?” a deep male voice asked.

  “This is she,” Sophie answered. Not Joan then. She’d had to change her number recently and only a few carefully selected people had it.

  “This is Detective Peter Brown from the Holden Hill Police Station. Have you got a minute to talk?”

  “What’s this about?” Her heart began to pound in her chest. She was glad she was sitting down.

  “Miss Wright, I need to know where you are.” When she didn’t answer he rephrased the question. “Are you in Adelaide?”

  “No,” she replied. She wasn’t going to tell him where she was. He could be anyone. He wasn’t the detective she usually had contact with so she was hesitant.

  “Good. Max Wright escaped custody this afternoon while being transported to the Magistrate’s Court.”

  “No!” Panic took hold of her entire body and made it hard to concentrate. “How could you let that happen? You people told me I was safe.”

  “We still don’t know the particulars but you need to get off the grid. I’ll give you the name and number of a person where you are that can help you. Can you tell me where you are?”

  “No!” What if he had someone listening? What if it was one of his mates trying to find her? God she didn’t know what to believe, who to believe. For the second time that day she was rendered speechless.

  “Okay, do you have somewhere you can go?”

  “What?”

  “Somewhere you can go or someone you can stay with? I know this is a shock but it’s very important that you listen to me now.”

  She nodded and drew one deep breath after another. “I have somewhere I can go.”

  “Good, but remember, don’t use your credit cards or bank cards, don’t even use your real name if you can help it.”

  “Okay.” Oh. My. God. She was in trouble. Again.

  “Miss Wright?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t worry. Chances are we’ll catch him by the end of the day. Criminals like Max aren’t usually smart enough to stay hidden.”

  “Okay. You’ll call me when you find him?”

  “Absolutely.” And then he was gone. Her phone slipped from her hand to fall uselessly into her lap.

  “Sophie?” Mick asked quietly. “What’s going on?”

  Angry tears trickled down her cheeks to land softly on her tank top as her hands gripped painfully in an attempt to stop the trembling. Why couldn’t she have just one day where her hands were still, her very soul not shaken.

  What could she tell him? She’d sworn never to tell anyone. She didn’t need his pity. She didn’t need anyone to tell her she was an idiot and that she should have listened to her parents and her brother when they had all told her Max was bad news. God, why hadn’t she listened?

  “My husband...”
She didn’t know where to start.

  “Did he die?” Mick asked when she faltered.

  “He escaped from prison.”

  “Prison? What was he doing there?”

  “He’s waiting to be sentenced for stalking and domestic violence.” She knew she shouldn’t tell this stranger anything but she had to offload. It was suffocating her not to be able to share her fears with someone, anyone. He didn’t have to know all of it. Some of it was so private she wasn’t sure she could ever tell anyone. That was her own personal hell to live with.

  “That was the detective,” she said, after she’d poured her heart out and wiped her eyes. “He wanted to let me know Max escaped prison.”

  “Will he come after you?”

  “Yes.” Not maybe, or perhaps. Definitely. The last time she’d seen him across the closed courtroom, he’d vowed to make her pay, screaming crude words until the guards were forced to restrain him and carry him back to the cells.

  “Do you have somewhere to go?”

  “I had booked into The Chateau down the road but I paid with my credit card.”

  “What do you want to do?” Mick asked.

  “I don’t know.” She racked her brain trying to think. She didn’t have enough cash on her to pay for another room and she didn’t know anyone in the state.

  “I would take you home with me but I value my life.”

  Sophie raised her eyebrows.

  “My wife would kill me if I brought a beautiful woman home to sleep on the couch,” Mick chuckled. “No matter how much trouble you’re in. You must know someone who could take you in until your husband is caught again?”

  Sophie’s smile was small but it was there. He was being so kind to her. She was the one who had been bitchy and awful. Brandan hadn’t deserved her hot and cold attitude, her spoiled princess routine. The one it had taken years after high school to break free of. She would have to choke down some humble pie and it would probably hurt like hell but he was her only option now.

  “Can you take me back to Brand-, ah, Mr McAllister’s hotel?”