Page 22 of Blind Devotion (Letters of Ruin #1)

He was gone when Marie dropped off my breakfast tray in the morning.

I didn’t need to see to know. The room felt different without him, as if his presence was too large for his body. I’d half convinced myself the last couple of nights were fever dreams until he barged into the room while that technician leaned over me.

I reached out, disregarding the tug to my side, needing physical proof.

The hard contours of the armrest of his chair, which shouldn’t be there, met my fingertips.

Real. His heady masculine scent lingered, just enough to tell me that last night really happened.

All real. I tipped my head back into the pillow and smiled.

It was unforgettable. The way his fingers had stroked my jaw.

The way his lips pressed into my skin. The way his breath warmed that same spot.

A heaviness throbbed between my thighs. I rubbed them together, needing more friction.

My fingers lifted my gown under the covers and slipped beneath my underwear.

They parted my slit. I was soaked. I circled my clit and tossed my head back on a moan.

I imagined his arms around me, those brawny biceps I once clung to caging me in, those thick hands of his holding me close.

I chased that euphoric feeling. It built and built, higher and higher.

Until it didn’t. Until voices crept in amidst flashes of colors behind my eyes—reds, blacks, and oranges.

The words were muddied. It wasn’t what they said, it was how they said it.

Slimy, predatory, snide, derisive as they demanded I continue when I didn’t want to, when I couldn’t.

I snatched my hand away. The voices stopped.

I lay there, unable to move for long minutes, confused, terrified, yet relieved all at the same time.

I’d been part of a trafficking ring, Adrien had said.

Some part of me had always believed him.

A small part. The rest, though, the larger part, thought he was only trying to justify some stupid conviction he had, and I felt better knowing that wasn’t the case.

How stupid of me. Even more ridiculous, I wished he were here, in the room, with his gruff, hard-ass attitude, threatening me with weapons.

It didn’t matter that I’d only gotten back tidbits of who I was.

It didn’t matter that I was still injured and healing.

I meant something to him, and he meant something to me too.

My would-be assassin/mafia boss cared for me.

I just knew it. I felt it in my chest, this odd tingling slowly spreading outward whenever I thought of him.

It wasn’t rational, I was aware of that, but it felt like I knew him.

Every day, more memories came back to me.

A sound, a smell, even a word sometimes triggered a new one, and each time, I picked up new pieces of myself.

It was like my memories were trapped in hundreds of little cages, vibrating to get out.

Each one needed a key. The difficult part was finding them, but he was unlocking some too.

Once freed, they couldn’t be contained again.

I loved music. I used to play the piano, cello, and violin.

My mother and I were really close. My father beat her, and sometimes me too.

I had a loving brother, older by close to a decade.

Mostly I dreamed of a boy or that boy as a man and the time we spent together.

He was older than me by a few years at least, but we were friends, close friends, in every single memory.

Not for the first time, I wondered if he and my captor were the same person.

They both had the same name and the same scars on the back of their hands.

They both spoke French and English. They both enjoyed origami.

Their voices were similar. Their cologne.

The feel of their presence too, but maybe that was all in my head.

Maybe I just wanted them to be the same person. Maybe I wanted to put a face I could see to the man who haunted my every waking moment. Maybe I needed some connection between my present and my past. Was my dream boy/man’s name really Adrien, or was my subconscious swapping it in?

It was easier to accept that I couldn’t see before I started remembering.

Before vibrant colors, shapes, and people filled my memories.

I didn’t miss my sight exactly, but it did feel like a part of me was being omitted.

Hopefully, I’d get answers after my CT scan tomorrow, now that almost four weeks had gone by since the surgeries.

With a television playing in the background, the day passed by faster.

I skipped through channels, having easily memorized the buttons on the remote.

When I was bored with that, I let music play in the background.

Dr. Conde came by and checked my scars for what she called the final time, giving me the all-clear to resume regular activities.

It was astounding how much a little light walking around the room used to drain me at first. Now I no longer hobbled or hunched over as I walked around the room. I made it three hundred paces before I collapsed in the lounge chair on the balcony, soaking up the midday sun.

Halfway through the morning, Marie knocked on my door, calling out that I had deliveries. Bundles of crinkling paper bags were plopped onto my bed.

“It was about time,” Marie said a little forcefully, in her strong French accent. “Do not worry. I will put these away for you. And then we will get you out of that horrid gown.”

There was something motherly about her that made it so easy to like her.

She spoke to me as if we’d known each other for years, chatting the time away with every stop she made to see me.

She always placed liquids such as coffee to the right of every food tray so that I easily found them and never made me feel like I was missing out because of my lack of sight.

With her, I wasn’t just waiting in limbo for Adrien’s visits.

“What is it?”

“Clothing, ma chère .” My dear. “The boss seems to have purchased out the whole shop just for you. Everything you could wish for. Here, feel this.” Soft, smooth, slightly hairy fabric.

“Cashmere,” she supplied. “And this.” This fabric was almost cool to the touch and thin with a drapey feel.

“Silk. You’ll look absolutely lovely in these. ”

I couldn’t deny the urgency to get out of the backless gowns I wore day in and day out.

Except for a break for lunch, I spent hours trying on and modeling outfits to Marie’s approval and gentle letdowns. When she asked if I wanted my hair done, I let her tug and pull until a crown of braids decorated my head.

Marie had just finished pinning it to my hairline when someone knocked. The door swished open before either of us gave a reply.

“Well, this is cozy,” Alizé said with caustic humor. “I see Adrien made good use of my suggestion. You can go now, Marie.”

The maid lingered just enough to raise the tension, but her soles ended up padding out the door without a word of protest. It wasn’t a betrayal—she owed me nothing—but it left a bitter taste of abandonment all the same.

“What do you want?”

“I come bearing gifts.” A bag thumped into my lap with a rattle as she clicked and clacked her way around my room. “Makeup.”

I sifted through the contents: pouches, tubes, jars, bottles, brushes of all sizes. There must have been at least thirty items inside. I opened a few. Perfume, lipstick, gooey foundation.

“Why?” I asked cautiously.

“An olive branch. Settling the water under the bridge. After all, every woman deserves to feel her best. New wardrobe. New look. Just doing my part to be a good host. I even included a perfume of my own creation. Ardor, the strength of passion in one scent.” She said the last bit with flair. “Eh, still working on the slogan.”

I didn’t understand this woman.

“Thanks, but no thanks.” I held the bag out to where she seemed to be. “Would you please leave now?”

She finally stopped moving about the room, making it easier to pinpoint where she was.

“I’ve offended you.” It was a statement more than a question despite her clear confusion.

“I’m not going to seduce him because you told me to.”

“Ah, but you are planning to seduce him?”

I ignored her. “And I doubt he’s going to kick me out of this house while I’m still breathing.” He wanted me dead too much for that. Or at least he said he did. I didn’t really know anymore. “So take this back. I don’t need your threats or your bribes. I’m not that kind of woman.”

“How do you know?”

“Wow, trying to hit me where it hurts. You’re a special one, aren’t you?”

She snorted. “And you’ve got more bite than I remember.”

I gritted my teeth, sick of her mind games.

The bed dipped under her added weight. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot. My fault. I can admit that. You just looked like you needed some extra incentive after the way little A and you left things when I barged in.”

I barked a laugh. “Little A?”

“Alizé. Adrien. Big sister. Little brother. I’d think it self-explanatory.”

Despite my reservations, I couldn’t help but be amused. I doubted the word little was even in Adrien’s vocabulary, nor did it resemble any part of him I’d touched. I mean, Jesus, just his bicep was at least twice the size of my own. Never mind what his…nope, not going there.

“Does he know his little nickname?” I gibed.

“Nobody likes a canary,” she snarked. “Take my request for what it was, Tessa. A compliment.” She chuckled at my obvious disgust. “I don’t ask just any woman to seduce family members.”

“You shouldn’t ask at all.”

“Maybe, but then again, I think my plan is working rather well. He seems quite smitten with you already.”

The bed gave a slight creak as she got up.

“He’s not,” I lied. At least it felt like a lie. I could still feel his lips kissing my forehead.

“You know, I had planned on taking you to your appointment. He stepped in.” Her footsteps crossed in front of me. “Do you know what this means? Adrien De Villier willingly stepping foot into a clinic?”

I wasn’t even going to ask what she meant. She wanted that too much. “Anyone ever tell you you’re manipulative?”

“ Ma belle , you have no idea.” Her soft hands patted mine, her manicured fingernails grazing my skin. “Oh, and look at what my clever brother left behind. Well. You can’t.”

Hi-larious. I’d roll my eyes at her little dig if I could.

Something scraped against the nightstand to my right, and a weight landed in my lap. An odd wooden board with raised dots, letters, and numbers. She also shoved a device with six large circles in two columns of three rows into my hands.

With the flip of a switch, the device spat out letters and numbers depending on the combination of keys touched, those matching the pattern of the raised dots for that same letter.

Braille, he’d given me something to learn braille with.

My eyes pricked and burned from the thoughtfulness.

Despite second impressions, he really wasn’t all that bad.

“These items prove my little brother is preoccupied with your well-being. He might be an asshole. I doubt that will ever change.”

I had to agree.

“He’s quiet. Domineering. Demanding. But most of all, he’s a dangerous man, Tessa, but not to you. Never to you.”

Despite Adrien’s threats, I knew she was right. Not sure how or why, but I knew that with a bone-deep certainty. Maybe that was exactly why I’d never really been frightened of him.