“Would you like to wash your hands?”
Nodding tightly, she allowed his palm to hover at her lower back as he directed her toward the sink. He placed her fingers on the cool lip of a counter as the slushing sound of water continued to fill the room.
Blindly, her palm patted the surface until she located the soap. She silently cleaned her hands and felt for the faucet, shutting the water off.
He escorted her back to the room. “Wait here. I want to grab the wine.”
“No.” Her body shook with disbelief, anger, and the sting of her stripped vanity.
“Ms. Farrow?”
“I’d like my clothes.”
Silence.
“Please,” she insisted, her voice a quiver away from tears.
“Scarlet…”
“I wouldn’t have looked,” she snapped. “You don’t trust me at all.”
He remained quiet.
“May I please have my clothes? I want to go home.”
“I didn’t watch you, Scarlet.”
It didn’t matter. All she’d asked for was a minute of trust after weeks of granting him blind faith.
His voice was low. “I don’t want you to leave yet,” he said slowly.
She’d felt so close to him only minutes ago, so certain they were moving forward. This unwelcome step backward had her mind in turmoil. He’d taken advantage of the situation.
“Either give me my clothes or I’ll find them myself—without the blindfold.”
“Scarlet—”
“You humiliated me.Please.” Tears choked her. In a small voice she begged. “Don’t make me ask again.”
His reply was quiet. “I’m sorry.”
He might regret that she was upset, but she didn’t believe he’d act differently if the situation were repeated. His apology didn’t change the fact that after everything, he still didn’t trust her.
His steps returned. “Put your arms forward.” Her bra slid over her shoulders and she brushed his touch away as he attempted to fasten the clasp. She hated that her body still responded to his nearness, prickling from the slightest contact, even after he’d hurt her.
As he helped her dress, her mind replayed the day. So many emotions packed into such a few hours. She recalled the song he’d chosen for her, the subtle warnings of the singer, warnings she couldn’t align with him until that very moment. The truth was, when Mr. Stone hurt her feelings, it hurt badly.
Why was he so afraid to expose himself to her when she’d disclosed all to him? Her brow pinched beneath the blindfold. Something had happened to this man. His aversion to being seen went beyond a need for privacy. She detected his underlying fear, an insecurity that didn’t suit the strong, capable man he was with her normally. But that’s exactly what his behavior was—fear.
There was nothing else keeping this blindfold between them but his worry that she might somehow react negatively to whatever he was hiding. No one was perfect. If he could accept her flaws, she could accept his. She didn’t care about the packaging. It was the man on the inside she wanted to be close to.
Despite her upset, she needed to get through to him. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered, lightly grasping his hands as they buttoned her jeans.
“I beg your pardon?”
Her head slowly shook. “What you look like, it doesn’t matter to me. There’s nothing you could show me that would change my feelings for you, Mr. Stone. I’d never hurt you.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “That’s not why you’re blindfolded.”
He was lying. If he refused to be honest there was nothing she could say. They were already treading delicate ground and trying to get an inflexible object to bend often ended with broken pieces.
She took a different approach. “Tell me your first name.” If he could just give her something personal—
“No.”
Her face lowered. “I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for and you refuse to give me anything.”
A derisive sound pierced the air. “I haven’t given you anything?”
“Nothing of meaning.”
“Really?” His tone was affronted.
“What’s the value of things when I can’t have your name? You’ve showered me with luxurious gifts, when all I’m asking for is something you grant everyone else that crosses your path. I just want your name, to know what color your eyes are and to see how they change when they look into mine.”
Though he remained silent, his breathing accelerated. He was irritated and she didn’t savor possibly making this powerful man feel cornered.
“Perhaps you should have put that in your letter then, Ms. Farrow. I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for, uninhibited adoration, attention, intellectual conversation, and pleasure. I promised you fourteen encounters, but nothing more. My name is mine and I’ll share it when I’m ready.”
“You’re forgetting one important thing. You’ve also given me the courage to increase my standards. This blindfold is a wall between us and it doesn’t have to be.”
“If you intend to revoke your trust in me, say so now and we’ll end this.” He breathed raggedly as he waited for a response. “The blindfold stays. Accept that or this…this will be our last encounter.”
All windows of compassion slammed shut as a cool chill crept up her spine. “I want my coat.” Who was he to speak to her like that? She might accept his conditions, but she drew the line at ultimatums.
“Scarlet…”
Although dressed, she felt more exposed than she had all night. “Goodnight, Mr. Stone.”
With clipped steps he walked away. The door snapped open, introducing a cool breeze to the room. He returned with her coat and slipped it over her shoulders. A throat cleared in the distance. Pennyworth.
As he fumbled with her buttons, she swatted his hands away and took over the task, not having much success. “Mr. Pennyworth will see you out.”
With that he walked away, leaving her desolate and confused, her anger subsiding into panic.
“Ms. Farrow?”
Her head tilted in Pennyworth’s direction as he took her arm, slowly escorting her to the car.
When she was buckled inside and they were on their way, trepidation choked her. She wanted to rip off the damn blindfold and race back to him, forcing him to confront whatever held him at bay.
Music clicked on interrupting her chain of reckless thoughts. They never listened to music in the car, but perhaps the driver had picked up on her distress and this was his attempt to offer her privacy, should she want to cry.
“You can remove the blindfold now, Ms. Farrow,” he said after they’d driven a ways.
Sliding the covering off her eyes, she blinked, her cheeks moist and tingling under the press of cool air. Glancing out the window, she stared at the unfamiliar landmarks rushing by, coming to recognize some of them the closer they drew to her house. But there would always be the mysterious part of the route she was never permitted to see, the portion that led to him.
“Tell me something, Pennyworth. If I put a gun to your head would you take me to him without the blindfold?”
He chuckled. “You wouldn’t do that, Ms. Farrow.”
“How do you know?”
His grin flashed in the rearview mirror. “Do you own a gun?”
“No, but I could get one.”
“I highly doubt you would.”
She tsked and rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question, Pennyworth.”
He sighed, his smile turning considerate. “Mr. Stone has been very good to me. He’s my friend, Ms. Farrow. I’d find it very hard to go against his wishes. I wouldn’t want to betray my promise to a friend.”
Sighing, she crossed her arms and admitted, “Then I won’t shoot you.”
“Good to know.” The rest of the ride passed in silence.
Unrequited wanting had her questioning her sanity. What if it never ended? What if the end was just an end? She didn’t know if her life could tolerate such an
unsolved mystery of never knowing who he was. What if this was the end?
They should have five days left, but what if tonight was their last? He’d given her an ultimatum and hit a major cord. He should realize everyone had limits and, if he wanted this to work, he needed to respect hers. If anything, she wanted the chance to talk to him about her boundaries, make him understand that a relationship consisted of give and take and she wouldn’t take that sort of treatment from anyone, let alone someone she loved.
If not for him, she might not have had the courage to put her foot down tonight. But he’d encouraged her to keep her standards high and it was his own fault she no longer considered lowering them an option—not even for him.
Couples evolved together, requiring both partners to be open and honest, something he couldn’t seem to manage at the moment and something that eventually had to change if their relationship continued.
Her stomach tipped sending nausea tunneling through her. It couldn’t be over. Like an addict, she knew the risks were getting dangerous, but the truth was, she lacked the strength of will to stop. But she had enough self-respect to call him out on his bullshit, making it perfectly clear he was just as accountable as she in this relation. He hurt her and until he apologized, there would be no moving forward.
Chapter Fourteen
Comprehension
There was no relief in the passing days. The tension in her chest contracted until every bit of her strength was devoted to holding back the tears choking her. It was over.
It had been eleven days and she’d not heard from him. When the withdrawal became unbearable, she’d messaged him on GeekPeek, but he hadn’t replied or even opened her message, not that it said much, just a simple “Hi.”
He claimed the blindfold was an instrument in developing her trust, enunciating each experience, which it was. But it was also a form of protection for him and whatever secrets he had to hide. His rules existed for a reason. She’d never comprehend the rationale behind them until she understood the man. And she wanted—very much—to understand him.
She was angry at his inability to bend after she’d followed his lead around every curve. But she was also sad, sad for whatever happened to him in order to make him so closed off. He clearly had trust issues. It was something to work on, something many couples struggled to overcome. Unfortunately, as time went on, she feared such a chance was unlikely.
When another weekend rolled around, bringing another Friday to pass, she’d forced herself to accept the fairytale was over. Wandering through her house, she cleaned as Thor maneuvered around her ankles, crying for some attention.
As she cleaned out her closet, she gathered all of his letters, tying them carefully with the prettiest ribbon she owned. Nora Jones sang softly from the CD player on her dresser about nightingales and wishes to be carried away on songs of love that once belonged.
Closing the box over the dried flowers and letters, she softly wept. Thor butted his head at her hand and curled onto her lap. Rolling to her back, she let her tears slide through her hair to the carpet. There wasn’t anything she could do.
The sound of her front door opening startled her. Sitting up, she quickly blotted her eyes.
“Lettie?” Nicole’s voice called up the stairs.
“In my room,” she answered, clearing her throat.
Her bedroom door opened and she met her friend’s scowl. “You don’t pick up the phone anymore?”
“Sorry. I’ve been busy.”
Nicole glanced at the pile of unwanted items tossed on her bed and Scarlet toed the box holding all memories of Mr. Stone deeper into her closet.
“What are you doing?”
“Just cleaning out some old junk.”
Her friend sighed and dropped to the carpet. “What happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she lied. “I’ve been meaning to declutter—”
“Scarlet,” Nicole interrupted, her scowl replaced with an expression of concern. “Level with me.”
She sighed and the tears quickly returned. “I think we broke up.”
“You and Stone?”
She nodded.
“Oh, honey, what happened?”
There was only so much she could tell without making a mockery of how deep her feelings ran. “I think I pushed for too much too soon.”
Her friend gave a sad, but comprehending smile. “Yeah, guys are stupid with stuff like that. Most of them have mommy issues and find it hard to face real commitment.”
She was way off, but Scarlet allowed Nicole her own interpretation. “I knew what we had. I shouldn’t have tried to make it more before he was ready.”
Nicole scoffed. “Men are never ready. You have to be stealthy when pushing for more, make them believe they’re in complete control, otherwise they get defensive. Have you talked to him?”
“No.”
“They’re such pussies. Why don’t you write him a letter, then he has to listen to what you have to say.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“You could even deliver it in person, then when he reads it you guys can have great makeup sex.”
Yeah, if she knew where he lived. “I don’t want to crowd him. I’ll probably just email him or something.” She didn’t mention messaging him on GeekPeek because then Nicole would insist on seeing his picture, which didn’t exist.
Nicole glanced around the room and sighed. “Come on, I’m getting you out of here. Even Thor looks depressed. Let’s go shopping and out for coffee.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“I don’t care. You can’t stay in your closet rolling down memory lane all day. It’s nice out. You don’t even need a ski mask.”
She laughed. Winter was upon them and she was already looking forward to the coming spring, hating the bitter cold that bit through even the thickest coats. “Fine, but we’re going to the mall. I’m not walking around the outlets in thirty degree weather all day.”
“Deal. But coffee first.”
****
“Asher!” Hunter hissed from across the small café table.
Ash entered the last few commands, skimming off the coffee shop’s Wi-Fi and glanced at his friend.
Hunter’s dark eyes were wide, his head tilted to the left, drawing Asher’s attention. Every muscle tensed as he recognized Nicole Pickerelli sitting with Scarlet.
“Is that her?” Hunter whispered.
Asher’s breath turned jagged as every muscle locked with the paralysis of a feeble animal within a predator’s reach. Clearly, he wasn’t making as much progress as he hoped. His heart was racing as if he’d just run a marathon. Every instinct he had told him to stay perfectly still, but his heart begged to go to her. It was as if the mere closeness of her pulled him into her orbit, a magnetic force his common sense couldn’t outmaneuver.
Silently, he nodded. His mouth was suddenly bone dry, his gaze locked to her sitting only ten feet away in the small café. He never came to this place, but after their meeting that morning with the youth group OddSquad, he wanted to finalize the app so Eugene could take it viral. The kid had been really excited to see his work come to life.
His heart pounded, as he feared she’d recognize him. She looked…tired. It had been well over a week since he’d seen her and the slight purple crests under her eyes told him that time apart had taken its toll.
He hadn’t pulled back to punish her. Rather, he’d withdrawn from her life to protect them both. Things were moving too fast and getting too complicated. Somewhere in the midst of holding all the control, he’d lost control of his purpose and hurt her. He never meant to upset her that night, but he panicked when something unexpected happened. Then she threatened to leave and he reacted badly, feeling cornered and unsure. She started flinging demands at him and asking things he wasn’t ready to answer.
But worst of all, as she begged him to tell her his name, he saw a shift. The anger seemed to ease and she appeared to make sense of something. Then he sensed her pity.
/>
He didn’t want her pity, hated the idea that he might give her reason to believe he needed any such thing. There was simply too much emotion between them and until he thought of an explanation for his behavior—beyond his own cowardliness—he decided time apart was best.
But as he watched her now, he noted, not only exhaustion in her appearance, but the sadness in her eyes. Damn him and his foolish inexperience. He should know better. Women were sensitive, his mother always reminded him of that. How could he even think what he did was okay? She’d been vulnerable and asked for two minutes of privacy. It was completely narcissistic for him to believe she wanted anything more than a few moments alone.
God, I’ve fucked everything up again.
As he studied her, Nicole talked and she nodded along despondently. He wished for the courage to go to her and introduce himself, but he couldn’t stir even the slightest nerve to lift his coffee to his lips, afraid she’d notice him and at the same time not notice him at all.
“Go talk to her,” Hunter whispered.
He shook his head. He couldn’t. Swallowing tightly, he continued to analyze her. A waitress delivered drinks to her table and she smiled.
Her eyes, so chameleon like, shined bright in the sunlight. They were as stunning as always, varying shades of blue and green. His breath caught as it always did when her glance cast in his direction. The last time he saw her eyes was at the Imperial Room and the restaurant had been too dim to truly appreciate their beauty.
Her hand tucked a ruby strand of hair behind her ear as she carefully took a sip of her beverage. Her full lips touched the brim of the mug and his body reacted. Flashes of their last encounter played through his mind, a torturous kaleidoscope of fantasies brought to life for a fleeting moment. He needed to get out of there.
When Nicole handed her a napkin, he frowned. Scarlet shook her head and blotted her eyes, laughing in spite of her clear distress.
She’s crying…
BLIND: A Mastermind Novel Page 26