BLIND: A Mastermind Novel Read online

  BLIND

  A Mastermind Novel

  Lydia Michaels

  Romance

  www.LydiaMichaelsBooks.com

  Lydia Michaels

  Romance

  BLIND

  Copyright©2015 Lydia Michaels

  First E-book Publication: BLIND©Lydia Michaels 2015

  All Art & Cover Design copyrighted©2015 by Lydia Michaels

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. Such action is illegal and in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law. Distribution of this e-book, in whole or in part, online, offline, in print or in any way or any other method currently known or yet to be invented, is forbidden. If you do not want this book anymore, you must delete it from your computer. WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  www.LydiaMichaelsBook.com

  Dedication

  To my sister, Gina…

  I Googled you and discovered you’re the hottest teacher in the realm.

  I also unraveled your alter ego.

  You’ve been masquerading as Fangirl by night.

  But don’t worry.

  Your secret identity is safe with me.

  Yours,

  Ms. Michaels

  B.L.

  Prologue

  “Are you comfortable?”

  She nodded in the darkness, unsure if the tumultuous excitement brimming inside reached the realm of comfortable, but this was exactly where she wanted to be—the point she’d waited so long to reach.

  This was it, the moment Scarlet Farrow had been anticipating for three grueling months. In the darkness of her mind, colors swirled, forming a tapestry of imagined characteristics for this mysterious man. He was her every hidden fantasy come to life.

  Mr. Stone.

  Warmth bloomed low in her belly as she breathed in his mysterious presence, savoring every memorized detail of the stranger who’d somehow heightened her passions and laid her bare —all prior to setting eyes on him. There was no way to define the array of emotion he provoked in her.

  Her throat went dry as his fingertip ghosted over her larynx, barely touching, utterly titillating. Only he could provoke such a reaction, simply whisper one question and call her entire being into compliance.

  The cool air of the room chilled her exposed shoulders, yet her skin burned for every long awaited caress. There was something about blindness that awakened the senses, goaded courage, and turned vulnerability into raw hunger. Need.

  She had no idea what the room looked like, how it was dressed or furnished. According to her other senses, she imagined it massive, with high reaching ceilings and walls somewhat vacant.

  From the beginning he’d claimed to know what she required, but after years of disappointing blind dates and lackluster sex, Scarlet was initially skeptical. She’d been wrong. He knew what she needed, and through many lessons in patience and honesty, a side of her she never anticipated surfaced for him. Every fleeting moment in the company of Mr. Stone was worth the seemingly endless waiting—he was that impressive.

  Burgeoning trust turned to pure, carnal need. It was the liaison of a lifetime, a masterpiece of emotions tied into this, their last moment of blindness, when all would finally be unveiled.

  She’d done everything he’d asked, followed every meticulous command down to the last detail. Unsure of his physique or even the expression he wore, her attraction had nothing to do with his body or the smoldering way his gaze scrutinized her nakedness. Perhaps his eyes didn’t smolder at all, but his words, his tone, always spoke of an intensity that went beyond the physical and sent her insides ablaze.

  She craved his drugging affection with every aching piece of her soul.

  He aroused her, not physically, but with intellect, challenging her, pressing her, and unraveling her until the physical need rivaled the screaming desire for his total possession. Simply put, he sawher.Exposed. Vulnerable. Raw.

  “I need you present, Ms. Farrow.”

  Understanding the magnitude of this moment, she reassured him every part of her being was invested in the now. “I’m here, Mr. Stone. Always here.”

  Her body shivered, as her spine lengthened, pulling her shoulders back as her shins pressed into the cool floor. He’d stripped her of more than her clothing. Stripped away her veils, stripped away her ego, stripped away her choice, and all at her eager consent.

  The soft click of his shoes over exposed floor halted her breath, reminding her that he was clothed, holding the upper hand to her vulnerable nudity. The echoes, found only in drafty openness of this place, were now familiar.

  Never in her life had she placed so much trust in another, let alone in an absolute stranger. He was an unexpected risk, a secret others wouldn’t understand. Coming here was a brave decision and she had no regrets. Never before had she been so proud of her courage.

  “You’re pleased.” It wasn’t a question, but a confident observation.

  He saw through her facades, unveiled the parts of her the rest of the world never bothered to see. He exposed her soul, her bare need, and her darkest desires.

  It would be impossible to lie to him. Lips twitching with a hidden smile, she confessed, “I am.”

  “And so you should be. It’s been quite a journey.”

  Breath dragged into her lungs with each ragged inhalation as if filling her up like a balloon that would soon pop. Everything they’d built together rested in this final moment of truth.

  Eagerness to rush forward had her trembling. His finger caressed the soft pad of her lower lip and the sharp rush of familiar excitement came with the touch of his flesh to hers, rocking her off balance.

  “Be still.”

  Her chin quivered as the backs of his soft nails traveled over her jaw, behind her ear, and down her throat. His touch was always so tender, almost hesitant and slightly reverent. It was revealing in a way, because he embodied confidence, control, and patience, yet his gentle touch sometimes spoke of diffidence.

  Those refined caresses resembled unspoken secrets, so worshipful and vulnerable in a way she couldn’t comprehend. Whoever he was outside of this room, beyond his power, she believed he was innately kind.

  “It isn’t fair for a woman to hold such beauty,”he whispered.

  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. Her nipples tightened painfully as the anticipation breathed like fire in her pulsing veins. Her nerves never rested in his presence.

  What he so carefully built between them went beyond mere sexual titillation. It was deep, plunging far past the shallow reality most couples shared. Mr. Stone was a man of few words so she savored every confession, every clue, every query, each one a fragment of the masterpiece of this mysterious man.

  “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?”

  So much. She feared leaving this world incapable of describing what it felt like to be loved. He
was right. She hadn’t written the letter because she was brave. She’d written it because she was scared, terrified the life she’d led was all there would ever be.

  “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 burn of truth wasn’t as severe as it once had been. At this point, she was so exposed there was hardly anything left to hide. “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.”

  “Do you feel you’ve achieved your goal, Ms. Farrow? Have you felt those very things?”

  Her heart raced. “Yes.”

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

  He never bullied her or even pressured her. He merely offered, and while the entire turn of their correspondence had taken her off guard, it was her decision to go to him—on his terms and her trust.

  The moment she agreed, life as she knew it was forever changed. Every instruction, every stipulation, disentangled another part of her. Desire bloomed into reckless curiosity as hidden secrets were slowly revealed.

  “I have no regrets.”

  Chapter One

  The Letter

  Three months prior…

  Condom or no condom? Scarlet moved the little foil square back into her purse as she held the phone to her ear and fussed with her appearance. Leaning into her reflection, she noticed yet another cluster of freckles on her nose.

  “You’ll have a great time, Lettie,” Nicole, her best friend and matchmaker extraordinaire rattled on as she continued to prepare for yet another blind date. “Drew’s a great guy.”

  Scarlet huffed and grimaced at the mirror. Glancing at her purse, she paused then quickly removed the condom from her purse and stuffed it in the drawer of the hall table. Better.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you’ve fixed me up with every eligible bachelor in the tri-state area, so process of elimination tells me we have to be getting closer.”

  “Ex-actly. Now, what kind of underwear are you wearing? Please tell me they’re not cotton with daisies on them or something.”

  She stilled and frowned. Dashing into her bedroom she shucked her bottoms and tossed her underwear in the corner. “No. I’m wearing panties.” Besides, they had roses, not daisies. She fumbled in her underwear drawer and found something akin to dental floss. Sliding them up her thighs, she winced as the sling of narrow fabric wedged between her ass cheeks.

  This was what some women preferred? Impossible.

  “Good. Drew can be a very sensual man, from what I hear.”

  Her hand stilled on her zipper. “Wait, how did you hear that?”

  “Boys talk. Matt tells me things.”

  “Oh. Right.” She returned to the hall table and retrieved the condom, stuffing it deep into her purse. Better safe than sorry.

  “Now, don’t be nervous. He’s really easy to talk to so you won’t have to worry about filling any awkward moments of silence.”

  Taking a deep breath, she sniffed and frowned. Scenting her hands and hair, she inspected her fragrance. Would it always be this much work? Gah, she hated all this primping. Racing to the bathroom she washed her wrists, worried her perfume was a bit strong. For someone who didn’t wear perfume regularly, even a spritz came off as pungent.

  “And remember, play hard to get. Go back to his place if he asks, but don’t go all the way. Leave him wanting more.”

  “Right. Wanting more.” Back at her purse she unearthed the condom and tossed it on the table then froze. That was easy advice for someone having sex regularly.

  Lights drifted across the front windows and her heart lurched. “Shit. I think he’s here, Nicole. I gotta go!”

  “Okay,” her friend said, immediately falling into rapid speech. “Have fun and try to relax. It’s okay to take risks sometimes, Lettie. Don’t sweat the small stuff and just—for once—keep an open mind and enjoy yourself without over thinking.”

  Blowing off the slight insult to her analytical and methodical personality, she humored her friend. “Got it. Bye.”

  “Call me when you get home!” Nicole shouted as she ended the call.

  Scarlet raced to the bathroom and whipped open the cabinet, shoving the box of tampons aside and reaching into the next box, removing a fist full of condoms. There was nothing wrong with being selective, but hey, if she didn’t have sex again soon she feared her lady parts might fall off.

  She stuffed the condoms in her purse and frowned when it wouldn’t zipper. A knock sounded from the door and she panicked, taking a handful off the top and tossing them in the bathroom drawer. Four should be enough. Did people have sex four times in a night? She rolled her eyes. Not in her life.

  Forcing out a slow breath, she shouldered her bag and answered the door. “Hi.” Oh, he was attractive.

  “Hi.” He smiled and held out a hand. “I’m Drew.”

  ****

  When will this torture end?

  If she didn’t get out of this moving car in the next thirty seconds she was going to throw herself onto the asphalt rushing by. Back stiff, gaze fastened to the dark world outside, Scarlet clenched her teeth, praying she’d be home soon.

  Kaleidoscopes of flashing lights swirled in her gaze as street lights passed with the oncoming traffic. Envy filled her for every pedestrian they zipped by, as she lamented the time it would take to get home. Drew was yet another disappointment.

  Nicole had prematurely promised, yet again, that this one was the man of Scarlet’s dreams. Sometimes it seemed her single life bothered Nicole more than it bothered her.

  Drew was successful, didn’t live with his mother or in his sister’s basement, owned his own car, wasn’t married, and wasn’t attracted to men. These were basic requirements that—as she approached her thirties—became more impossible to find.

  Nicole had Drew’s credentials right, but as far as being the man of her dreams…No, not by a long shot. Drew was more like the man of her nightmares.

  Every sentence he spoke started with I or ended with me. How he didn’t have a permanent palm shaped imprint on his jacket from patting his own back was beyond her. Sitting through an evening with Drew was like witnessing a form of egocentric masturbation as he stroked his inflated ego. She’d never seen a man so in love with himself. It was perverted.

  Not once had he asked about her. Never did he broach the topic of her career as a middle school teacher or ask her about where she’d grown up. Everything was about him.

  Sure, she wasn’t the most fascinating date, but she at least understood a conversation required two people, and the volleying back and forth of opinions and thoughts. Not Drew. He barely took a breath in his declaration of personal greatness to let her grunt a reply. It was as if she were invisible, a feeling she loathed and experienced all too often.

  Throughout dinner she’d sipped her wine to smother her growls of frustration. A headache was in full affect by the first course. She mentally made a list of things less painful than their conversation; Chinese water torture; a manicure with a machete; having her eye against a glory hole; anything was better than what she’d endured.

  As she consumed half a bottle of red, she casually phased out his self-important blathering and plotted her friend’s execution. What had Nicole been thinking, setting her up with this narcissist?

  As Drew pulled the car into her driveway—finally—she released a breath she’d been holding in with clenched teeth for the last half-mile. Her hand went to the door as she unlatched her seatbelt and made to escape, uttering a quick thank you—of course—interrupted by her insensitive date.

  “I had a good time tonight, Scarlet.”

  I bet you did, you pompous know-it-all. “The restaurant was nice.” There was no way she was paying him a compliment. She was shocked he even recalled her name.
/>   “I can call you tomorrow.”

  Get out of the car. “I have a lot going on over the next couple weeks. Conferences and report cards are just around the corner.”

  His brow crinkled with confusion. “Conferences?”

  My God, you are such a dickhead! “I guess Nicole didn’t tell you I’m a teacher.” Would have told you myself if you ever stopped talking and gave me a split second to participate in the conversation.

  “Oh, yeah. She might have mentioned something about that. I forgot.”

  Her hand tightened on the handle, loosening the gears and popping the door open an inch. “Well, thanks for dinner.” Her foot touched the pavement.

  “I don’t have your number.”

  So close! Shutting her eyes on a sigh and counting silently to ten, she turned to face him. She wasn’t a bitch, she was actually a very nice person, but she also wasn’t a masochist and this entire evening had been absolute torture.

  “Listen, Drew, I know we have a mutual friend, but that’s all I see this being.”

  “You…don’t want to go out again?” If she listened closely, she might hear the faint blubbing sound of his ego deflating. Like an inflated blimp going down, she imagined people screaming in the shadows of its enormous wake.

  “I’m afraid you aren’t what I’m looking for. I’m sorry.” And she was sorry. The journey to find someone who fit her personality was daunting and depressing and each time she failed, it hurt a bit more.

  His confusion contorted to disbelief. “Seriously?”

  Easy, tiger. Forcing her expression to remain calm, she breathed. “My life’s pretty busy and as much as I appreciate you taking me out tonight, I don’t think we’re as compatible as Nicole hoped.”

  He scoffed, reminding her of the assholes from college that made up the arrogant fraternity across from her apartment. “Your loss.” His body pivoted in the seat, fingers gripping the steering wheel, as his glare drilled into the windshield.