Blind Girl: A Dark Billionaire Romance (6 page)

I shake my head. “I’m sorry you feel that way…” It’s my token response to her man-hating, one that usually frustrates her enough to change the subject.

“I’m serious here, Alice…” she continues, “don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

It took three days for the soreness to pass and over a week for the marks to disappear from my wrists. I haven’t decided yet whether or not I regret it. “Mom, I have to go. I have class in thirty minutes,” I lie.

“Okay…” she breathes. “Please think carefully about this, Alice. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I disconnect and toss the phone onto the desk. I know my mother means well — she always has — but whenever she warns about doing things that I’ll regret someday, it always sounds to me like,
“You’re my biggest regret, Alice.”

My mother loves me. This is an absolute certainty. But I know for a fact that if she could have had me later in life, she would have done so in a heartbeat. She doesn’t regret my existence, but she sure has hell regrets how it all went down.

I never met my real father. Whenever I asked about him growing up, she quickly changed the subject. After awhile, I stopped asking. Before my grandmother died, I asked her about him.

“I met him once,”
she told me.
“You have his eyes and nothing else.”

I bite my lip and glance back up at the box as a smile spreads across my face.

Chapter 4

She Was Lost Forever

I step out of the taxi cab and stare up into the heavens. The hotel towers above all other buildings nearby, a beacon in the sky, calling me to it as a lighthouse calls a shipwrecked sailor to land.

I clutch the room key in my palm. Room 1729. The hard edges of the electronic card dig into my skin, but I find the pain more comforting than anything else.

This time, as I step closer to the entrance, the doorman smiles down at me.

“Good evening, madam,” he says to me as he pulls the door open to allow me inside. I recognize his face. He was there that night three weeks ago. I wonder if he recognizes me now. I look very different. I’m not wearing a cheap department store dress this time. Tonight, I’m wearing a genuine Faleuro gown — whatever the hell that means.

I give him a nod. “Thank you,” I say. I catch sight of my reflection in the glass doors as I step inside. The dress is indeed exquisite, with the deepest shade of sapphire blue I’ve ever seen in my short life. I wear black heels, stolen from Gabby’s large collection she keeps stashed under her bed. She helped me get ready for this evening and spent an hour on my hair, much to my objections. The last thing I wanted to do was make it look like I was trying too hard to be someone I’m not, but she insisted on making it count.

“When a man gives you a Faleuro gown, you dress the rest of you to match it!”

I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and in the end, I must admit, she’s outdone herself on this one.

The second I step inside the hotel, all eyes fall on me. Everyone from the staff behind the counter to those passing through the lobby glance in my direction, their eyes immediately descending on the dress. Those in groups speak to each other in hushed tones, no doubt debating which wealthy family I hail from. I catch sight of the clipboard man, once again standing guard before the black double doors. He eyes me for a moment and a look of recognition glosses over his face before he shakes his head and looks back at his clipboard.

I don’t stick around to listen to the whispers that follow me. I can feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, so I keep my head down as I step quickly towards the elevator. I press the button for the 17th-floor and hold my breath until the doors finally close and I’m out of sight.

Air exhales from my lungs as I lean backward against the cool glass, thankful that the elevator is empty.

“What am I doing?” I whisper to no one. My stomach shifts with the change in altitude.

“You’re going on a date with a billionaire!”
is what Gabby would tell me, but is that really what this is? Is Charles expecting a date? Or is this all about sex? My knees quiver at the thought of him answering the door and taking me into his arms. I can already feel his kisses on my face and neck, his hands traveling down my body to grip my—

Ding!

The elevator doors open and I stare out at the 17th floor hallway. I will my feet to move, but my muscles remain locked in my current position.

“What am I doing?” I ask again.

I reach out and push the lobby button. The doors close and I find myself staring at my own reflection in the golden mirrored walls. I look away, far too embarrassed to look myself in the eye. My stomach growls, both from hunger and nervousness. I know that once I reach the bottom, I’ll have to navigate through the stares and whispers of the social elite once again. I try not to think about it.

Ding!

The doors open on the lobby and I take the first step off.

“Alice.”

I pause with clenched eyes. That voice. Unmistakably
his
. I should look up. I
have
to look up. I bite my lip and manage to open my eyes, but I can’t bring myself to look higher than his knees.

“My god, Alice…”

When I finally meet his eyes, I see that they’re fixed on the dress. “Ch—” The name gets caught in my throat, trapped behind dry vocal chords. “Charles—” I mutter.

Charles. The man that used his words as playthings to seduce and torment me, who knew exactly what to say to drive me wild, stands speechless in front of me with his jaw hanging open. He wears a black suit with a white button shirt, an outfit not so different than what he wore when we first met.

“I—” he begins, but loses his voice briefly. “I thought you would look good in blue, but I had no idea…”

A smile climbs onto my face. “Thank you,” I whisper. I grip the skirt awkwardly. “You have good taste — or, that’s what Gabby said.”

He smiles and steps onto the elevator with me. “Are you getting off?” he asks.

“Yes— No… maybe…” I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Charles nods at my response as his fingers tap the button for the 17th floor. The doors close behind him. “Let me take a look at you…” He reaches out and grips my shoulders with a light touch. I turn towards him and allow for him to take control of my movements. “It brings out the brown in your eyes so…
perfectly
,” he says.

I stare into his eyes, those deep tunnels of forest green, as they scan my features. He looks at me so deeply, I feel as though he’s looking right through me to my very soul. After a few moments, I have to look away, the urge to hide overtaking me.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles and drops his hands. “Have I made you uncomfortable?”

“No—” I say.

Ding!

The doors open and Charles steps off the elevator. He turns back to me and places a hand on the doorway to keep the lift open. “Alice,” he says, observing my hesitation, “if you wish to leave, I will not stop you. I will go to bed tonight a
very
sad man, but I will hold no ill will towards you.”

I smile again as laughter slowly rises in my chest. “You talk so good,” I say.

“One of many talents, I assure you.” He holds out his other hand. “Shall we?”

I place my hand in his and instantly feel a shock wave of warmth travel up my arm. “Okay,” I say.

His fingers tighten around mine and I follow him off the elevator. He leads me down the hall in silence, casually glancing back at me every few steps, each time dropping his eyes to observe my body as the dress swishes back and forth with each step. I bite my lip, sick with nervousness, until we reach room 1729.

“After you,” he insists.

I realize that I’m still holding the room key in my palm. “Oh…” My fingers shake wildly as I slide the card into the reader. The light turns green and I glance up at his amused face before pushing the heavy door open.

The light is already on as I step inside. It’s a room quite similar to the one we stayed in that night, but with a much better view of the city. Two armchairs sit on either side of a small table next to the window. A bottle of champagne sits on ice in a bucket on the drink cart next to the door. Charles immediately fills two glasses with the bubbly drink as I wander over to the window and stare out into the night sky.

“This is beautiful,” I say.

“Yes…”

I look back at him, suspecting by his tone that we aren’t referring to the same view. He stares at me with a sideways glance, his eager tongue poking out of his lips.

“Stop,” he blurts. “Don’t move.”

I freeze in my position and watch as he darts across the room. He slides the closet door open and retrieves his suitcase from inside.

“What?” I ask.

“Shh…” He pulls out his camera and quickly moves back to his position next to the champagne glasses. “Look over your shoulder again — just as you did before.”

I do as he says, the ends of my lips twitching. “Like this?” I ask.

“Perfect.” The shutter clicks repeatedly as he takes several photos with his black camera.

I think of myself being tied to the bed, blindfolded, with only the eager sound of clicking guiding me in his direction. “What do you do with your photos?” I ask him.

“They’re a private collection,” he says, briefly glancing over the camera.

“Do you take pictures of all the girls you bring up here?”

“Only the worthy ones,” he says.

I take a slow breath and wonder exactly how many of us he considered worthy. I want to ask, but I bite my tongue instead.

“Alice…” Charles slowly lowers the camera to his side and walks over to stand by me next to the window. A bit of moonlight strikes his face. The blue light blends with his eyes, turning them sea green. “If it makes you uncomfortable, I will stop.”

“No…” I shake my head. “Go ahead.”

“You’re sure?”

I nod. “Yes.”

He brings a hand to my cheek and slowly traces a line up my face to the top of my head. His touch tickles my scalp as his fingertips glide along my hair. “Gabby is quite the stylist,” he says.

“Is it that obvious?” I ask, turning away to hide the pinkness rushing to my cheeks.

“You don’t strike me as the type of woman that likes to spend more time than necessary on her looks,” he says. He turns away and sets the camera on the table next to the bed before returning to the drink cart to pick up the champagne glasses.

I cock my head to the side. “Then why send a dress to entice me?” I ask him as he puts a glass in my hand.

Charles grins to one side and takes a seat on the armchair by the window. “To give you one less thing to worry about if you accepted my invitation,” he says. He brings the drink to his lips and takes a sip.

“If?” I ask.

He nods. “Honestly, Alice, I did not expect you to show up tonight.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I thought I frightened you,” he admits.

I bring the glass to my lips. “What, you’ve never had a girl walk out on you while you were in the other room before?” I pour a little champagne between my lips and relish in the familiar elixir as it tumbles down my throat.

“No,” he answers. “I have not.”

I try to read his face. “I’m sorry if I insulted you,” I say.

“You didn’t.” He takes another sip. “In fact, it only made you more interesting.”

“How?” I can’t stop my smile from taking shape.

He shakes his head once and sets his glass down on the table. “Are you familiar with the myth of Orpheus?” he asks as he stands and drifts in behind me.

I see him reach a hand towards my glass. “The musician,” I answer.

His hand pauses in mid-air and for the second time since we met a look of surprise strike his face. “Go on,” he urges with amused eyes as he takes my champagne glass from me.

“Umm…” I search my memory, sifting through knowledge I learned in high school and never thought I’d need again. “He… traveled to the underworld to save his wife.”

“Eurydice.”

I nod. “She died on their wedding day. Orpheus played music for Hades, who was so impressed he let him travel to the underworld to find her and take her back with him.” Charles floats his hands above my shoulders. His fingertips travel slowly down my back, barely touching my skin. I lose focus for a moment. “But — he wasn’t allowed to look at her until they both reached the upper world. She followed him all the way to surface, but he glanced back at her before she reached the top and…”

“She was lost forever,” he finishes, his lips gliding against my shoulder as he speaks.

“Yes,” I say. My eyes flutter closed as he plants a kiss on my neck.

“You’ve studied Greek myth,” he notes, raising his head. He looks forward and makes eye contact with my reflection.

My eyes fall to the floor. “I took Latin in high school,” I explain. “Translating myth was part of the gig.”

“What are you studying at university now?” he asks.

“Literature,” I answer. “Or creative writing — I haven’t decided yet.”

“I’m impressed.”

I shake my head. “Don’t be.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Alice.”

“I’m guessing all your other girls didn’t know the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice?” I ask.

He steps away and I turn to watch him slide his black jacket off and hang it on the back of the door. “I wouldn’t know,” he answers. “I never thought to ask. None of them ever reminded me of it.”

“And why do I remind you of it?”

He takes a deep breath and slowly exhales as he meets my eyes again. “I lost you once,” he says. “And I was scared that if I laid eyes on you again before the time was right, I’d lose you forever.”

“That’s a pretty good line,” I tease.

He smiles. “And for a lesser woman, it would have worked.”

I take a step towards him, then another, and another, until we’re face-to-face. “Don’t sell yourself short, Charles,” I say. I close my eyes and push myself up onto my toes to land a kiss on his lips. He kisses me back slowly as I throw my arms over his shoulders and he embraces me tightly against him to hold me there. I once again allow myself to become lost in the flavor of his kiss.