Blind Girl: A Dark Billionaire Romance Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1: Close Your Eyes

  Chapter 2: Don't Do That, Alice

  Chapter 3: I'll Sleep On It

  Chapter 4: She Was Lost Forever

  Chapter 5: Don't Take It Personal

  Chapter 6: You Have to Demand It

  Chapter 7: Answer the Question

  Chapter 8: Lie to Me

  Chapter 9: As You Wish

  Chapter 10: We Met in the City

  Chapter 11: The Elephant in the Room

  Chapter 12: I'd Rather Starve

  Chapter 13: Let Fate Decide

  Epilogue: Goodbye

  Whispers From Tabatha

  UNTOUCHED (Midwest Alphas) (Book 1)

  UNTOUCHED Chapter 1: Who Are You?

  UNTOUCHED Chapter 2: I'm A Prisoner

  UNTOUCHED Chapter 3: Factory Equipment

  Copyright

  BLIND GIRL:

  A DARK BILLIONAIRE ROMANCE

  by Tabatha Kiss

  WARNING: This novel contains explicit descriptions of

  erotic and sexual acts that some may find offensive,

  including perverse adult language.

  Reader discretion advised.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.

  No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood related.

  Text and Story Copyright © 2016 Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved.

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  xoxo

  Tabatha

  Chapter 1

  Close Your Eyes

  “Come on, Alice. It’ll be fun.”

  I shake my head, unable to fight the smile crawling across my face. Six little words. It’s Gabby’s catch phrase. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s said it to me since a computer randomly assigned us to be roommates in our university dorm a few weeks ago.

  “We’re not going to get away with it,” I say without glancing up from my English textbook.

  Gabby sticks her head out of the closet and rolls her eyes. “That’s not the point!”

  “Can’t we just go see a movie?” I ask.

  “We can go see a movie next weekend,” she says. “Tonight, I want to do this.”

  I sigh and close the textbook. “Fine,” I mutter.

  She smiles wide at me and resumes ruffling through our shared closet, picking and choosing between various articles of clothing. “I say we go with these,” she says as she turns towards me. In each hand, she holds up two little black dresses by the hangers. “They’ll make us look older. Your choice. Which one do you want?”

  I slide off my bed and walk over. My eyes bounce from one dress to the next, finding the little difference between the two. One is strapless, the other features long sleeves. “I’ll go with this one,” I say as I take the sleeved one on the right, recalling that the forecast predicts a cold front on the horizon.

  Gabby shakes her head twice. “So predictable.”

  “Hey, if you want it, you can have it,” I say.

  “No,” she says. “I got the one I wanted. This one shows more skin.”

  I chuckle. “Now who’s predictable?”

  She puckers her lips and kisses the air at me.

  We wait until an hour after sundown to leave the dorm, giving us plenty of time to tweak our appearances to perfection. Gabby herself spends over an hour on her hair alone, curling her short, red locks into symmetrical ringlets around her head. There’s little I know to do with my long, brown hair, so I iron it straight and let it hang down just passed my breasts and focus on livening up my other features with the help of Gabby’s extensive collection of make-up.

  Once Gabby approves of my look — a task she always insists on, even on casual trips across the street to the dining hall — we set out together into the autumn night to find a taxi cab.

  “Where to, ladies?”

  Gabby grins. “Downtown,” she says proudly.

  The driver turns around in his seat. His eyes fall on us, scanning our bodies up and down until a chuckle heaves off his lips. “Whatever you say, ladies,” he croaks out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Erin told me to focus on the smaller clubs,” Gabby whispers at me once the cab starts moving. “The bouncers are usually younger, inexperienced, and more susceptible to persuasion.” She briefly cups her breasts at the last word, pushing them upward to accentuate her sizable cleavage.

  “Isn’t Erin dating a drug dealer?”

  “So?” She furrows her brow at me. “Who cares? She does this like every other weekend. She knows what she’s talking about.”

  “As long as we don’t get into any trouble…” I mutter.

  “Alice, these are the years when we’re supposed to get into trouble,” she argues. “We’re eighteen years old. We are invincible. Nothing can stop us. The world is our oyster. We are woman. Hear us roar.”

  “Calm down,” I laugh.

  “Well, it’s true.” She sits back in her seat and snaps open her clutch to retrieve her phone.

  We ride the remaining way in silence. Every mile we travel increases my heart rate, making me more and more nervous about what’s to come. Gabby is probably right. We’re eighteen years old. The crimes we commit at this age act only as feathers in our cap, a series of cautionary tales we’ll speak of only to our curious grandchildren when their parents aren’t listening.

  Back in my day, it was easy to flirt our way into twenty-one and older clubs. I just flashed my pearly whites, squeezed my tits together, and men fell at my feet!

  Unfortunately, my grandchildren will be sadly disappointed when I tell them about this.

  “No way.” The bouncer crosses his thick arms about his chest. His black shirt stretches tight as he flexes his muscles to illustrate his dominance over us.

  Gabby scoffs. “Oh, come on!” she whines. “I’ll give you my number.”

  “Beat it.” He stands firms, blocking the entryway.

  “Let’s go, Gabby,” I say as I lay a hand on her arm.

  She sighs. “Fine.”

  We continue walking down the street. Gabby’s heels click the pavement harder than mine. “This is such bullshit!” she growls. “Five clubs and not one of them will let us in.”

  “Well, can you blame them?” I ask. “You still have baby fat in your cheeks.”

  “This isn’t funny, Alice,” she seethes as she jerks her face in my direction. “God, this is so humiliating! And I’m freaking freezing!” She wraps her bare arms around her chest and I feel vindicated in taking the dress with sleeves.

  I shrug my shoulders. “There are plenty of places we can get into,” I point out. “And it’s only ten.”

  “I don’t want to go to one of those places. I want to go to one of these places.”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  She pauses and takes a deep breath. Her toe taps lightly against the sidewalk while she chews her bottom lip in concentration. I can see the wheel spinning inside her head, a look I’ve become all too familiar with as she concocts her rebellious schemes.

  And just as suddenly as it began, her eyebrow flicks up like a light switch.

&nbs
p; “I know…” she mutters.

  She keeps me waiting as her eyes scan the street around us.

  “What?” I ask, the suspense tickling my toes.

  “I think we’ve been thinking a little too inside the box on this one,” she muses. “Bars and clubs aren’t the only places to go when you want to party.”

  “Okay…” I say, “and…?”

  She bobs her head, gesturing upward with her eyes. I follow her gaze and crane my neck as my eyes travel higher and higher, stopping only when they reach the top of the skyscraper. I read the name silently to myself: Botsford Plaza.

  “A hotel?” I ask.

  Her smile splits from ear-to-ear. “My cousin used to tell me about all the crazy shit she used to do at fancy hotels like this one.”

  “Like… order room service at three in the morning?”

  She rolls her eyes. “Follow me,” she says as she wraps her arm around mine, locking us together as she struts towards the entrance.

  The doorman stares at us with a raised nose, but eventually grips the door handle and lets us through without uttering a single word. It’s the first victory of the night and a surge of adrenaline courses through me.

  “Oh, my…” Gabby moans as our eyes study our new and exquisite surroundings.

  The hotel lobby shines with walls plated with gold trim and sleek, black leather furniture arranged purposefully about the room. The elevators glow as golden boxes in each corner. The staff don elegant black suits and dresses, embroidered with a shade of gold along every seam. Luxury is the word and it’s not a word I’ve had the pleasure of experiencing in my brief lifetime.

  I glance at Gabby. Her mouth sits open in awe while her brown eyes reflect specks of gold. I wonder whether or not I appear just as silly.

  “Looks like they’re having a party,” Gabby says as she points a finger. I stare straight ahead. Just after the reception desk, far away from the groups of people in cocktail gowns and tuxedos drinking champagne, lies a large set of black doors at the far side of the lobby.

  Three doormen stand guard in front of them with perfect posture. The man in the center carries a golden clipboard. All of them scan the crowd, frowning, no doubt taking their jobs very, very seriously.

  “Let’s go!” Gabby whispers at me as she pulls me through the lobby.

  My heart races more and more with each step. There’s no way we’ll get through those doors, but I don’t have the heart to crush her dreams. It will be the same story as before. And yet, this time, as the black doors travel closer to me, and the eyes of those passing by flick in our direction, a keen sense of dread grows inside of me.

  We’re not welcome here.

  “I’m sorry, ladies,” the man with the clipboard says. He holds up his hand to stop us in our tracks before we even make it to the doors. He’s much shorter than the other men, who were obviously hired as muscle to stop exactly what Gabby and I are attempting to do. “It’s a private party. Please return to the main lobby.”

  Gabby licks her lips and sticks her chest out. “Well, I’m sure there’s been some kind of mistake. We were invited.”

  “By whom?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

  My eyes bounce between him and the two other men. They’re all twitchy, as if we are the first bit of action they’d had all night. Their fingers dance against their thighs, just hoping for us to cause a scene so they can bounce us out onto the street.

  “Wow, you have no idea who we are, do you?” Gabby raises her little voice, drawing the eyes of those around us. “This is ridiculous. I have never been treated this badly here before!”

  I dig my nails into her arm as I watch the guards crack their knuckles. The celebrity routine didn’t work at the last two places she tried it and it certainly isn’t working now.

  “Please,” the man sighs. “Turn around and exit the building now, or I will have you removed.” His voice is stiff like he’s rehearsed the line in front of the mirror countless times. But it’s no joke to him. His eyes show every bit of his intent to cast us out.

  “There you two are!”

  A new voice carries above the dull hum of the lobby. It scratches down my back, sending deep shivers across my skin. A hand falls onto my shoulder. I look up to find out who it is.

  He’s older than us by a decade, possibly two. And handsome. Extremely handsome, with features I’ve only ever seen before on statues carved out in Ancient Greece. Black hair. Forest green eyes. A sleek, black suit. His eyes bounce from Gabby’s face, then over to mine. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you two!” He flashes me a subtle wink that shoots a sudden tremor through my knees. “You’re missing the party!”

  “You know these girls, sir?” He asks it with a ludicrous tone as if he already knows the answer.

  “Of course, I do!” He shifts behind our backs, his height towering above us, and reaches over to set his other hand on Gabby’s shoulder while keeping a firm hold on mine. “These are my guests!”

  “They are not on the guest list, sir, nor are there any free slots,” the clipboard man states with rolling eyes. “They were not invited and unless I hear otherwise from the owner, I can’t let them in.”

  “Well, I just so happen to have the owner right over here—” He turns and his hand drops off Gabby’s shoulder, but he keeps his grip on me. “Oh, Ian!”

  He shouts across the lobby towards the sitting area next to the reception desk. Another man leans over a leather chair with one foot propped against an ottoman. His attentions lie on the woman in a green dress sitting before him, locked on her youthful face. He’s tall, clad in a deep blue suit, with blond hair brushed back over his eyes. His cheeks are pink and I get the feeling the drink in his hand is not his first of the night.

  “What?” he asks without even a glance in our direction.

  “There’s room for two more, right?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  He squeezes my shoulder as he turns back around to grin at the clipboard man. “Well, there you have it,” he smirks. “Straight from the owner’s lips.”

  The clipboard man cocks his head and turns to the side. “Have a good night,” he mutters without emotion. He gives a nod to the muscle behind him and they open the black doors.

  “Let’s go, ladies,” he whispers into our ears. “The night is still as young as you are.”

  Gabby beams and immediately takes a step forward into the black doors, but I stand frozen in place. I want to move, but I can’t bring my muscles to function. I feel trapped, unable to budge without his strict instruction to do so.

  “After you, my darling.”

  I glance up at him again with shaking eyes. A smile sits on his lips. I take control of my feet and follow Gabby inside.

  Just as we enter, the doors slam closed behind us. The golden safety of the lobby abandons me as I’m lead into perfect darkness.

  I shudder with fear as my eyes adjust.

  “Gabby?”

  She doesn’t answer. I can’t see her.

  I feel a strong hand on my back. It pushes me forward through the dark curtains and onto the main floor.

  I had expected champagne and caviar. Maybe a string quartet. Or men in suits chatting about the stock market while the women admire each other’s shoes.

  Twelve cages in total line the walls of the room. Young women sit inside ten of them. A beam of light shoots down from the ceiling above each cage, providing the only illumination for the entire room. The girls are young, not much older than me, each one wearing nothing but a red bikini made of silk and a blindfold to match.

  A few dozen men stand around the room. They drink and admire the girls, none of them talking above a whisper to each other.

  My eyes land on the fishbowls, one sitting on a pedestal before each cage, filled to the brim with folded up slips of paper.

  I finally lock eyes with Gabby.

  “We have to leave,” I say to her. I wrap my shaking fingers around her elbow. “We shouldn’t be here.”

&
nbsp; She looks at me with wide eyes, like a child in a candy store.

  “What’s the matter, ladies?” He slinks in behind me, his body cloaked in shadows.

  I flinch at the sound of his voice. “I… uh…” My voice shakes and fades off into the thick, warm air.

  “It’s called the Blind Girl Party,” he explains. He rests his hand against my back once more and slowly pushes me towards the first cage. As he steps back in front of us, his hand slips into his pocket and he withdraws a rather expensive looking pen.

  We come to a stop in front of the fish bowl. The light strikes his face, sending shadows down one side of him.

  “If you want to take the girl home, you write your name on a slip of paper and toss it into her bowl.” He slides the lid off the pen and jots his name down on the notepad at the pedestal. “At the end of the night,” he continues as he tears the paper free, “she reaches inside and lets fate decide the victor.” He pauses for effect, his green eyes jumping between us at the right moments. “You can enter your name into as many bowls as you please.”

  He takes the freshly folded paper and tosses it into the bowl. His hand lingers inside and he swishes the papers about, burying his own deep down.

  “What happens if more than one girl chooses your name?” Gabby asks.

  He smiles. “Then you go home one very, very lucky man.”

  Gabby nods her head and looks around the room. “Sounds like fun,” she says.

  I, on the other hand, taste bile in my throat. “Why would they do this to themselves?” I ask.

  “What do you mean?” he asks with curious eyes. I flinch as he reaches out and snatches a glass from waiter’s tray as it passes by in the darkness.

  “Isn’t it a bit… degrading?”

  Gabby scoffs at me and crosses her arms. “Madame Killjoy strikes again.”

  “No, she has a point…” His eyes never stray from mine. “I assure you, every girl is here because they chose to be. They find their own pleasures in it — even if it is simply to be taken home by a millionaire.”

  Gabby leans in with wide eyes. “Is everyone here a millionaire?” she asks quickly.