BLIND: A Mastermind Novel

by Lydia Michaels

  His attention zeroed in on her mouth, trying to make out what she said. He caught the words “stupid” and “pathetic”.

  Was she referring to him? She couldn’t be talking about herself. She wasn’t either of those things. He was. Those tears were his fault and he couldn’t let her go on blaming herself for his personal shortcomings.

  Minimizing the app page on his laptop, he signed into GeekPeek. He knew she’d messaged him, but he didn’t want to encourage her. Luckily, the preview showed the note in its entirety. A simple “Hi” was all she’d written.

  Opening the message finally, he quickly typed out a response.

  Sweet Scarlet,

  I’ve been thinking about you and hope you’re doing well. I’m sorry my insensitive actions hurt you. That was never my intention. Perhaps the distance between us is wise. Please don’t take it personally. It was me that was wrong.

  Missing you.

  Mr. Stone

  He sent the message and waited. Her dialogue slowed as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, but she continued to converse with her friend, her eyes on Nicole until she had the device in her palms.

  Her words cut off, her mouth opening as her shoulders lifted on a slow breath. “Oh my God.” He read her lips. She glanced nervously at her friend. “It’s him.”

  Nicole’s voice was loud as she gasped, “What did he say?”

  Asher frowned, questioning how much Nicole actually knew of he and Scarlet’s relationship. Scarlet’s lips compressed and her brow knit as she read her phone. When Nicole stretched to snatch the phone Scarlet quickly jerked it out of reach and scowled. His chest filled with pride. Glad to see Scarlet had established some boundaries with her pushy friend.

  Leaning back in the booth, she thumbed over the screen and his gut clenched as expectation thrummed through his veins. She was writing back. Quickly muting his laptop, his eyes volleyed from her to the screen, awaiting her reply. She lowered her phone to the bench and grinned at Nicole.

  The message appeared and he quickly opened it.

  I miss you more than words can say. I think we both said and did some things we shouldn’t have the other night. You hurt me, and I pushed back. I can be patient. I don’t want to rehash it. Can we please get together soon? Your conditions, my trust.

  XO,

  Scarlet

  There were wiser things to do than place himself right back in a situation he was quickly losing control of. “Shit.”

  “What’d she say?” Hunter whispered.

  “She wants to see me.”

  “So see her.”

  He shook his head. “It’s complicated.”

  His friend sighed. “Only because your letting it be. Get out of your damn head and do what your heart wants, Ash. She’s clearly upset and misses you. This isn’t difficult.”

  As he glanced at her table, she was smiling, her eyes no longer weary, but full of hope. It felt good to restore a bit of what he’d taken from her. Maybe Hunter was right, but he couldn’t just walk over to her—especially not with Nicole there.

  He typed out his reply, glancing quickly at the time. It was four-thirty.

  I’ve missed you too. Pennyworth can pick you up at six. I’m sorry I hurt you.

  Yours,

  Mr. Stone

  He waited as the message traveled to her phone. Her face illuminated, an expression of pure joy banishing all signs of worry. She stood and Nicole sulked over her unfinished coffee. As she gathered her belongings, he lost sight of her face and any chance of reading her lips.

  She tossed some money on the table and left, her friend wearing a look of abrupt confusion as she trailed behind.

  He grinned. He’d have to plan their evening quickly. He only had a little over an hour. He quickly shot Steve a text. Shutting his laptop, he paused as he noted Hunter’s expression of shock.

  “What did you say to her?” his friend asked, a look of pure awe in his eyes.

  Asher shrugged. “I just told her I missed her, said I was sorry, and she asked if we could get together tonight.” His phone chimed and he grinned. “Steve’s picking her up at six.”

  Hunter’s head shook slowly. “Just like that?”

  Asher smiled, surprised as well. “Just like that.”

  He stuffed his laptop into his shoulder bag and dug out some money. As he tossed the cash on the table Hunter continued to stare at him. “What?”

  “If you mess this up with her, you’re an idiot.”

  Drawing in a slow breath, he confessed, “I’m reevaluating my concerns.”

  “Good, because I gotta tell you, no matter how many secrets you two have, something there is real for her to go running off to you like that. Don’t mess that up, Ash.”

  He swallowed, deciding that was the biggest goal, not to mess this up. “I’ll try.”

  ****

  That night, as he paced by the window awaiting her arrival, it became apparent how much he’d actually missed her. When the lights of the Mercedes cut through the limpid twilight his stomach knotted with eagerness.

  The dizzying effect of her nearness rocked him as he opened the door wide. Steve helped her from the car and he stared unblinking as she approached.

  “Thank you, Pennyworth,” he whispered, his voice a touch husky under the bulk of his appreciation. “Good evening, Ms. Farrow.”

  Her chin trembled as she stepped over the threshold. He reached to unbutton her coat and she surprised him by throwing her arms around his waist and squeezing him tight.

  Warmth filled him as he allowed her genuine show of affection, needing her touch as much as she apparently needed his in return. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her and he simply held her for a moment.

  Her hair smelled of sweet apples, bringing nostalgic comfort to his senses and easing his tension.

  “I missed you,” she whispered.

  He pressed a light kiss into her hair. “I missed you too.”

  They slowly drew apart and she beamed. He unbuttoned her coat and hung it beside her scarf. He bent to remove her boots. Placing them by the wall, he also removed his shoes.

  He hadn’t worn a suit today. Rather, he kept his clothing casual, jeans and a soft sweater he’d recently purchased. “I thought we’d do something a little different this evening, Ms. Farrow.”

  “Okay.” He walked her to the ballroom, his fingers laced with hers. She continuously gave his hand subtle squeezes. He’d missed those tiny gestures. When they reached the bed, she smiled and said, “You’re not wearing shoes.”

  Supposing she usually tracked his movement by the sound of his footfalls, he grinned at her cleverness. “Not tonight. I want to hold you. I have a bed. Nothing sexual will happen. I just want to give you the experience of being held. You’re welcome to nap and perhaps when you wake, you’ll finally know what it is to wake up in a man’s arms, something you’ve confessed to never experiencing.”

  Her appreciative smile was slow, displaying her straight pearly teeth. “I love that idea.”

  He placed her hand on the bed. “It’s tall, so I’ll guide you to the pillows.”

  She carefully maneuvered her way onto the mattress. Feeling around for the pillows, she turned and lowered herself to her back.

  “Comfortable?”

  “Mmm. Very.”

  Rounding the four-post bed, he sat beside her and drew the covers over them, settling in to her side.

  She sighed, the sound full of contentment. Observing her, he said, “Tell me about your week.”

  “I worked, cleaned out all my pantries, and reorganized my cabinets. Got rid of some stuff I no longer use.”

  Was she purposely not mentioning how his absence made her feel? “Is purging something you do regularly?” His fingers picked up a lock of her hair, admiring the fiery highlights of red and rubicund gold.

  “When I’m stressed.”

  “Other than our relationship, is something stressful happening in your life?” She had friends and family. It was a
rrogant to think her behavior only resulted from his actions.

  He’d also been under a lot of stress lately, but nothing out of the ordinary was happening in his private world. His levels of tension had dramatically lowered since deciding to see her again.

  “No. I was upset and couldn’t reach you. That’s stressful.”

  His fingers traced the freckles along her brow, teasing the edge of the blindfold. Guilt was a great responsibility he momentarily shied away from. “Tell me about your favorite time of day.”

  Her voice was pitched low in a hypnotic tone as he stroked her face, softly teasing each delicate arch, learning the curves of features he’d committed to memory long ago.

  “I like the morning. Not waking up—I’m grumpy when I first get up—but once I’m awake, I love long, quiet mornings.”

  “What do you love about them?”

  The corner of her mouth curved as she drew in a slow breath through her nose. “The stillness, the scent of coffee, how lovable my cat is because he wants food.” She laughed.

  “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Thor. He’s a white Persian, but thinks he’s a part Doberman. His goal in life is to steal all my socks and knock over as many lamps as possible. He also steals food, but that’s my fault. I feed him from the table.”

  He liked imagining her with her cat. “Do you have any other pets?”

  “No. I was thinking about getting a dog, but… you came along.”

  He laughed. “Should I take offense to that?”

  Her cheeks darkened. “I just mean I haven’t had much time. Puppies require a lot of attention and my life’s been busier than usual since meeting you.”

  “I’ll accept that. How do you take your coffee?”

  “At home I just take cream and sugar, but my favorite’s the white biscotti they sell at the café near my house.” She snuggled closer to him, her hands curling by her chest as she fit her body against his and rested her face in the niche of his shoulder. “You smell good.”

  “So do you,” he rasped.

  His lips rested on her hair, breathing in her warm scent. She felt right in his arms. His body recognized her nearness, but he quelled his lust for this woman, wanting tonight to be peaceful.

  “Tell me something that makes you happy,” he asked.

  She hummed. “You know what makes me happy.”

  “Aside from a man’s esteem. Tell me something tangible. Something quantifiable that the mere sight puts a smile on your face.”

  “Like a sock monkey?”

  Her answer was unexpected enough to make him chuckle. “Sure. Do you have a thing for monkeys?”

  “No, but I like sock monkeys.”

  “What’s a sock monkey?” he asked.

  “It’s a monkey made out of socks. Haven’t you ever seen one?”

  “No. Are they new?”

  She shook her head. “I think they date back to the Victorian era.”

  “Do you collect them?”

  “No,” she said, her brow slightly kinking. “I should. I think they’re adorable. I don’t even own one.”

  He’d have to remedy that.

  Their conversation dwindled as a sort of restful peace settled between them. He never stopped watching her, knowing the exact moment she fell asleep as her breathing softened and her head slipped slightly to his chest.

  It was tempting to shut his eyes and join her, but he couldn’t do that. Her soft mouth so close to his was another temptation. He could so easily trace his lips over hers, but he’d waited too long to simply steal a kiss now, without the pleasure of looking into her eyes.

  As the hour passed his mind contemplated how they’d spend their last few nights before he would bravely remove the blindfold. He still feared disclosing who he was; worried his past could botch his progress. But if he never tried he’d never know, and he feared missing out on something spectacular with her more than anything else.

  Not only was his past a hindrance, he wanted her response to be sincere. Women often acted differently when they learned he was a co-founder of GeekPeek. There was wealth, and then there was a level of comfort even he had trouble measuring. He didn’t want his success to influence her decision in the end. Neither did he want her memory of him—if she had one—to deter their future.

  When it started getting late, he traced a finger over her jaw. “Scarlet.”

  Her chest lifted as she drew in a long breath, her hand fluttering to the mask covering her eyes. Gently catching her fingers, detouring them from the blindfold, he placed a kiss on the back of her knuckles. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  She hummed and curled into his side. “I passed out. I didn’t mean to.”

  Holding her fingers, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s okay. I told you to nap if you wanted.”

  “But now the night’s over.”

  “We have more nights ahead of us.”

  “Promise?”

  He placed his hand on the curve of her hip. “I promise.”

  She twisted closer to him, her chilled nose rubbing along his throat. His body tensed as she pressed a kiss under his jaw. Each encounter left her a bit more brazen.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  It took everything he had, not to roll her to her back and kiss her then and there. Passion tunneled through him, leaving him in a state of need so intense it bordered on agony. “You’re welcome,” he rasped.

  “When will we be together again?” she asked, her hands making a casual detour over his arm, putting him on high alert.

  She hadn’t broached the subject of their last departure and he was grateful. If anything, Scarlet was unpredictable and for the most part he found that refreshing. But that night… His carelessness had fractured a bit of their foundation. Nothing was severed, but he’d taken the lesson to heart.

  Scarlet was more delicate than he’d realized. She had strong boundaries surrounding her tender emotions, much like him. “I need to tell you something, Scarlet.”

  She stilled and he sensed her worry. “Okay.”

  “What I did the other night was wrong. I made you feel cornered and…I wasn’t thinking.” His mind traveled to moments when he’d been vulnerable, naked, and cornered. “I had no right to impose on your privacy like that and I’m so sorry I hurt you. I never want you to feel bullied into doing something you don’t want to do. I should have trusted you and I… I made a mistake. I won’t violate your privacy like that ever again.”

  Her hand rested on his chest as her lips curved with a soft smile. “I accept your apology.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hunger

  The following Monday Scarlet dressed carefully. Though she and Mr. Stone had fallen on that one rough time that made their future seem questionable, their last encounter had banished all doubt.

  Rushing home from work, she quickly showered and donned a long green sweater-dress paired with the brown leather boots he’d gifted her. Pennyworth arrived at six and she appreciated Mr. Stone’s attention to detail, in that he always made their weeknight encounters a bit earlier in respect for her early mornings.

  As they drove, she and Pennyworth fell into easy conversation. The car slowed and she grinned, recognizing the approximate time it took to get from her place to his.

  “We’re here,” Pennyworth announced, stepping from the car.

  She reached for the door just as Pennyworth pulled it wide and took her hand. The walk up the steps was bitterly cold, the temperatures dropping into the teens. She hated winter. As the door opened, heat from the interior of the house beckoned.

  “Good evening, Ms. Farrow.”

  “Good evening, Mr. Stone.” He took her arm and guided her inside. “I liked my note tonight.”

  He never failed to surprise her. Tonight’s note had been especially sweet. She’d memorized every word.

  Ms. Farrow,

  You once expressed an envy for couples, the sort where the man watches the woman and smil
es even though she has no idea he’s studying her. I smile all the time when you don’t know I’m looking. You also expressed an interest in simple conclusions to ordinary days, the simple act of sharing a meal becomes extraordinary. Tonight we will be dining together. I look forward to hearing about your day as well as your deepest desires. There is much to cover.

  The choice is yours, Ms. Farrow. Should you choose to continue, it will be on my terms and your trust. If you consent, place the mask over your eyes and my chauffeur shall deliver you into my care. I hope to see you soon.

  ~Mr. Stone

  A.R.

  He removed her coat and scarf. “You’re hands are freezing. Where are your gloves?”

  “I forgot them,” she confessed.

  The air smelled of roasted meat and spices. She wondered if he cooked. “We have company in the vicinity tonight, Ms. Farrow, my personal chef. She’s in the kitchen and will not disturb us, but you should know we aren’t alone.”

  “Oh.” At one time, company would have made her feel safe. She no longer needed that added security. Oddly, the outsider troubled her. She didn’t want to be seen blindfolded—because, really, who did that? And she also worried having someone nearby, aside from Pennyworth who never interrupted, might keep Mr. Stone at a distance.

  “Let’s have a seat.” A chair scraped heavily along the floor. “The table’s been set, nothing too fancy. We have roasted chicken, potatoes seasoned in fresh rosemary, basmati rice with mushrooms, steamed broccoli, dessert, and of course wine. Everything’s here, so we shouldn’t be disturbed, but the chef is near in case there’s anything we forgot.”

  She was still processing that he had a personal chef. The menu, though he said it was nothing too fancy, sounded extravagant. Had she been home she’d be dining with Thor on a crappy microwavable dinner. “Everything sounds delicious.”

  He placed a napkin over her lap, swiping a hand under her hair and placing a kiss on her neck. Her shoulders lifted as a shiver went down her spine. “Not as delicious as you, Ms. Farrow.”

  He tucked her chair into the table and the trickle of wine filling a glass echoed. “The chef selected the wine tonight. I hope you don’t mind that it’s white.”