A Beauty So Cursed by Beena Khan

Chapter 7

“Well, hello beauty,” a deep voice slurred from behind me.

I paused drinking and glanced in the voice’s direction. A spicy cologne filled the air, and the scent of Bourbon clung to the heavy atmosphere.

“I’m Sasha Petrov,” the man introduced himself.

A cold-hearted killer.

Yes. I’ve heard of the rogue, arrogant playboy who was constantly drunk at every party. I’ve heard rumors about him, of how he came onto every woman. I wanted to avoid him, but now I was stuck in a tricky situation. To ignore him would be rude. I bit the inside of my cheek and remembered my manners. I opened my mouth, intending to introduce myself.

“You must be Lada Sokolova.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes, hello Sasha.”

His laughter chortled through the air.

“You mean, Sir Sasha?”

I frowned. I didn’t call him Sir because he was lower in rank than my father. Those who were above my father such as Alexei, Dimitri, and the rest of the Brotherhood, I called Sir. Sasha was respectable, but he was only a Russian Vor. I came from a family of men who held higher positions. He should call me Ma’am, but I didn’t correct him. Instead, I stayed unresponsive as I took a sip of my orange juice.

Sensing him come closer to me, my shoulders tensed.

“I’ve heard so much about the beauty with the scarred face.”

I flinched and tried to keep my face expressionless.

He was a stranger, but his words still left an impact.

“Whoever painted your face should get a raise. You look stunning in that red dress.”

What a backhanded compliment.

“Wish I could see you and say the same about you,” I replied under my breath, with a hint of sarcasm. For once, I was glad about my visual inabilities. I didn’t think I could stomach one second of looking at this arrogant rogue. He was probably puffing his chest out.

“A feisty one, huh?” he murmured. “I didn’t expect that from Adrian’s daughter.”

Sir Adrian, I wanted to correct him. Where was Papa anyway?

I gulped my drink quickly and quietly spoke, “It was nice meeting you. I must leave.”

I turned around, and I gripped the cane that I used at parties. I took a step forward, and a movement behind me made me pause. Large, thick hands pressed against my bottom, brushing against the silkiness of my dress. I paused and jerked straight up. Then, a squeeze came, and my mouth dropped open, threatening to touch the floor.

Sasha Petrov leaned down and brushed his cold lips against my ear.

I shivered at the danger emanating from him.

It didn’t excite me at all.

“Milaya, I will find you wherever you go. We will meet again and the next time, you will call me Sir.”

I cracked open a groggy eye.

I didn’t know how much time had gone since I woke up.

Now opening both my eyes, a groan left my dry mouth at the throbbing pain in my forehead. Memories of falling down the stairs and the leery man jumped in my mind. I rubbed my tired eyes, and they didn’t adjust to the darkness like others. They remained the same. I was grateful that another day had found me.

That I’d survived.

I grimaced as I reached up a hand to touch my forehead, but a thick, soft fabric stopped me. Moving my hands over my body, I realized, one of my arms was bandaged too.

I froze when I sensed someone in the room. My cheeks heated at the thought of being caught feeling myself up.

Was it that man again?

Fear hit my cold bones, and I tried to sit up quickly. I grunted at the flash of pain before leaning back on my elbow. My anxiety spiked and my heart pounded in my chest. I blinked once, then twice, desperately trying to detect the smell. I sniffed the air, seeking a leather scent, but it was different.

Cedar.

Familiar

Recognizable.

The unmistakable spell of him.

“It’s Miran.”

I know.

His voice was deep with exhaustion.

When I didn’t reply, he continued, “You’ve been unconscious since yesterday. It was a pretty, heavy toll you took. I’m glad to see that you’re okay.”

I was passed out for so long, but reality didn’t register to me at all. Instead, I closed my eyes tight at his voice, the same one I hadn’t heard in a while. I’d been with him two days ago, but now, so much has occurred since the wedding. My heart trembled and burned at the fact that he’d return after all.

I wanted to correct him that my fall wasn’t exactly an accident, that I was being chased, but my throat was too parched. It hurt to even swallow.

“Water,” I croaked.

His heavy footsteps advanced toward me, and I held my breath in again. When he was around, I stopped breathing altogether. I hated he had such a strong effect on me when I meant so little to him. I tried to rise, but a whimper left my mouth at the pain erupting all over my body, and dizziness hit me.

“Be careful,” Miran’s deep voice came.

The right side of my hot cheek brushed against his satin fabric. His clothes were so cool, and my body was on fire. I wanted to savor the moment a little longer, but he pulled back. Movements of shuffling were happening behind me, and he pushed my shoulders gently back against the pillows.

He fluffed them for me.

If I didn’t hate him right now, I would have thought he was adorable.

Smooth, long fingers brushed against mine, making me tingle, and he placed the cold-rimmed glass of water in my hand. I took a few sips and tried not to choke on it. The refreshing taste was soothing. I finished my glass, and he took it from me. My stomach took the moment to rumble loudly in the air, embarrassing me. I bit the inside of my cheek as I patted my hungry stomach.

“How bad do I look?” I asked after a moment.

“Not that bad.”

A lie.

“You have a head injury but no broken bones. You have bruises on your arm, but you should be able to walk,” he added. “The doctor has advised you to a bed rest for a couple of days.”

“Who found me?”

“Ayla said it was one of the girls. She heard the noise downstairs.”

So, not the leery man who’d reported my fall. I wondered what had happened to him and where he was hiding now. I reached out a hand and ran it down my face before I rubbed my sleepy eyes.

“I came as soon as I could have,” he murmured.

Sure, you did.

He was so close, hovering around me.

What did he look like?

I knew what humans looked like. I wasn’t born blind. I could dream visually, and I could recall some memories until the age of five. After that, it had always been darkness.

His voice distracted me from my thoughts.

“How are you doing now? How much pain are you in?”

I didn’t answer any of his questions, instead, I licked my dry and chapped lips. I wanted more water. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, he tapped his foot, something I noticed he would do once he was losing patience when I was unresponsive.

“You’re late,” I said at last.

Where did that come from?

The tapping stopped automatically.

“Now, you have come?”

Shut up.

Was he pissed off?

“I was busy,” he replied after a moment. “It’s chaotic outside.”

I hated how he was dismissing me.

Maybe I should be a better person and understand the situation, but I only saw myself, my pain, and the disappointment that I felt in my heart for trusting someone too easily.

I believed him.

I relied on him for so many things, and they had turned out to be a lie.

I folded my hands in my lap, feeling small like a child.

“You promised me you would bring me a cane… you promised…” my voice trailed off, and I instantly felt stupid for believing the promises of a stranger. “If I had a cane, I wouldn’t have fallen.”

He let out a ragged breath but didn’t speak.

“I could have died.”

My lower lip trembled.

“I have different needs than other people,” I choked out the bitter truth. “You said that Ayla will take care of me, that she would be my aide, but I couldn’t find her when I had woken up,” I continued.

“She must have been busy with the other people—" Miran began.

“Let me finish,” I cut him off.

I bit down on my tongue at the words that spilled out my mouth. Where had I found the courage to speak like this? I’d never been so outspoken before. It was out of my comfort zone. Energy and adrenaline were rushing out of me.

He upset me. Enraged even.

This was completely new, and it was… refreshing.

“What?”

Coldness was etched in his voice.

A deep, threatening growl emanated from his lips.

Oh, gosh, I was pushing it… I really needed to control my mouth better. Where did the pious girl that I’d been my whole life run off to? She ran off and disappeared.

I’d never been so intimately challenged before.

Words deserted me and I struggled to breathe.

Fiery wrath came from his heated body. Maybe he wasn’t used to people questioning him. I was probably insane to mess with a man like him. A chief and he also had dangerous Bratva blood running through his veins.

My tongue was thick and awkward in my mouth, but still, I forced myself to keep talking. Taking a deep breath, I continued, “Ayla is not trained to assist a blind person, and it’s not her fault.” Then, with another deep breath, I dared to add, “It’s yours.”

That came out stronger than I had intended to.

Lethal silence met me.

If I wasn’t dead before, I sure might be now.

It was just me and him. I could tell there was no one around us. Perhaps the door was closed too. I didn’t hear any other noises besides my heartbeat as it rose to my throat, wanting to jump out. I was shut off from the safe sounds of civilization. He could kill me right now, and no one would even know. The room was suddenly a lot hotter than before. Was he going to slap me too like Papa? Panic surged through my body that he might hurt me, and I gripped my bedsheets tighter, but then I thought again, no.

This man had helped me.

He wouldn’t harm me.

Since he hadn’t replied, I continued talking, but this time, I lacked the fiery energy. Now, I just sounded defeated. “I couldn’t even physically look for her or even call her on the phone. I don’t have my phone with me,” my voice hitched, “I asked my roommate, and she said, ‘Over there’. How do I know what ‘over there’ means?” I questioned in frustration. “I told her I’m blind, but she fell asleep. I was hungry, but Ayla wasn’t available. I asked someone else for help and—” I stopped talking.

I hit a jackpot.

“Then what?”

A nervous breath caught in my throat. I wasn’t sure how to tell him the next part, so I ended up saying, “I fell.”

I wanted to deal with one thing at a time, and right now, I was terrified. Fiddling with the bedsheets that were sprawled over me, I waited for his verdict.

He sighed deeply and scolded instead, “I said to stick with Ayla. If she wasn’t around, you could have been more… patient. She would’ve checked on you.”

He didn’t know what it was like to live a life of darkness and be dependent.

He was privileged.

“Well, I was desperate, and I waited for her to come to me in the morning. I can’t tell time. You weren’t there, and she wasn’t there to help me, plus, I had no cane,” I accused, reminding him of his mistake for a second time.

“Look, moya kroshka,” Miran began.

He hadn’t even apologized even once for not bringing my cane.

I hated how my heart raced at being called Little One. I hated how every time it sped up whenever he was near me. I wasn’t used to that feeling. I’ve felt fear with Papa, Sasha, and my brothers… but with Miran, I felt something else.

“Is that how you speak with Dahlia too?” I slipped out.

“What did you just say?” his voice dropped an octave.

I pressed my lips together.

Dangerous territory, my inner voice warned.

He doesn’t even fear the Pakhan when it comes to her, so what are you?

“Next time, don’t throw her name like that.”

He sounded protective as hell. I shivered at the threat.

“Dahlia wasn’t like you,” he added.

“Of course not. People say she is quite beautiful, not disfigured, or blind,” I mumbled.

I knew that she was married to Vladimir Vitalli, but what was her relationship with Miran before she met her husband? Were they together… physically?

The ugly, envious monster grew in the pit of my stomach at the thought of them together again. It burned me and my insides shriveled inside. I heard rumors that she lived with him for years, ate meals with him. And… I was left alone.

He didn’t share that part of him with me.

I wanted to know everything about him.

His past, present, even his future.

His ups, downs, highs, lows, good, and bad.

What was so different about her besides the obvious?

He’d helped her too, but he let her stay in his home.

He said it wasn’t safe to keep you there, my inner voice chided.

I ignored it. I didn’t need another person scolding me.

He sighed as his footsteps paced around the room.

“What do you know about Dahlia?” he demanded.

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused. I remembered the phone conversation with Pakhan. He must be wondering if I knew what Pakhan knew. I didn’t though.

“Just that she lived with you,” I replied.

“She wasn’t as frustrating as you are to deal with. When she was younger, she was always quiet around me,” he claimed.

Well, that escalated quickly.

My mouth dropped open. “Frustrating? I’m sorry if I’m a nuisance to you. I’m sorry if me being vocal damages your ego,” I replied with a hint of sarcasm.

What was wrong with me?

I never spoke like this.

Dead silence met me.

“I don’t recognize you anymore,” Miran said at last.

Well, that was something we could agree on.

“You don’t know me at all,” I corrected.

He ignored me and continued, “I left an innocent, quiet girl, and now that I’ve returned, it’s like after you fell, you died, and now you brought your wrath down with you like a demon from hell.”

Hell demon.

If I was in a better mood, I would have laughed.

It was true.

I didn’t recognize myself either.

I’d never spoken so freely before without the fear of being disciplined. Maybe it was because I felt free with him around, not just safe. I didn’t have to worry about him harming me.

I was hurt, not just physically but emotionally.

That was it. I needed to lash out.

In the last forty-eight hours I was about to be married to a creep twice my age, then my wedding was crashed, I was taken to a safehouse, another creep tried to feel me up, and I fell down the stairs, and now I was in bandages.

What a disaster.

“You are injured, and I will hold responsibility for that. You’re coming with me.”

Finally.

“You’re not dying on my watch.”

Hearing those words, my heart came alive and cheered inside.

❖

Ayla had returned after Miran had left.

I didn’t want to be upset with her, but it was getting hard not to. I didn’t want to feel entitled… but she was supposed to take care of me, and she’d failed.

Just like Miran.

I mean, I had every right to be upset, didn’t I?

Miran gave me his word that I would be protected but I wasn’t.

That man…

I didn’t finish the last thought, and I didn’t think about the attacker.

I still hadn’t spoken about him to anyone.

It was still a secret.

“You poor child. I’m so sorry,” Ayla spoke as she hugged me.

It was the third time she’d apologized to me. I didn’t give her a reply as she helped me up. The dizziness was slowly fading.

“Miran told me to give you a cane,” she said softly, placing it underneath my grip.

I nodded, and I rubbed my hand over the hard, smooth surface of it before tapping it against the ground. He’d brought one for me after all, but my soul still churned with the earlier disappointment.

“Thank you,” I replied after a heartbeat.

“He said to bring you down. You’re going with him. I assume you know this already?” she asked.

I nodded again.

She sighed deeply as we began walking.

“I thought it would be better if you ate something before you go, but Chief isn’t listening. He wants you out now to another location he keeps.”

I smiled at how he was listening.

“Here is some bread you can eat,” she said, placing a soft loaf in my other hand.

I mumbled thank you and chewed on it softly. I hadn’t eaten since a day, and I hungrily snuffed it down. I was famished.

She continued, “I am extremely sorry again. I wish I was better equipped. I hadn’t told you how to find me when you went to bed.”

She seemed genuinely apologetic, so I replied, “It’s okay.”

“Do you want to bring your wedding dress with you?”

A giggle wanted to leave my lips. “I rather not. You could trash it if you like.”

She laughed. “I thought you might say that.”

Speaking of wedding, my hand went to my ring finger where Sasha’s engagement ring lay. I took it off and said, “I’m not sure what to do with this. You could use it for the safehouse needs?”

“Oh, my Goodness,” Ayla protested, “I can’t take that.”

I only smiled. “Please, it will benefit the place.”

I held out the ring in front of me, waiting for her to take it. After a few moments, she sighed, and replied, “Alright.”

Voices filled the air, and my ears perked up at the sound of a door creaking as it opened. They instantly quieted when we came out. I could feel stares burning into me, and I stared at the ground.

Was the man I had met earlier lurking in the shadows somewhere in the crowd?

“She is fine,” Ayla spoke to the group. “Now shoo to your daily activities.”

Footsteps retreated from us, and Ayla led me forward. We walked for a couple of more minutes until I heard her opening the door.

The entrance.

Warm, breezy air hit me, and I breathed it in.

When we’d reached the exit, a voice spoke, “I got it.”

Miran. My heart jumped with joy, although I kept my face stoic and void of any emotion.

“Take care, sweet girl,” Ayla said, “I wish your stay here could have been better.”

“Me too,” I replied sadly.

When the door closed behind us, Miran asked, “Do you want my hand?”

Yes. “No. I have my cane.”

He was quiet for a second before he asked, “Do… blind people feel dizzy?”

Surprised at his question, I blinked slowly. He sounded genuinely curious, and I wasn’t offended this time.

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s not just about vision making one dizzy. In the inner ears, there is fluid, when the fluids move around too much, it causes dizziness.”

“You might feel dizzy again,” Miran declared, “You just woke up from a concussion.”

Just tell me you want to hold my hand like I want to hold yours.

“I said, I have my cane,” I insisted.

He sighed. “Being stubborn when it’s a matter of life and death isn’t smart. I don’t need you to fall down the stairs again.”

I hated how mature he was.

Older. Experienced. Wise.

It only reminded me how I was different.

Young. Incompetent. Stupid.

“I am fine,” I mumbled, using the cane, and feeling where the first step lay. Twenty steps. Once I’d found it, I moved forward, but a firm grip on my hand jerked me back. Confused, I paused.

“No, you’re not fine,” he countered, his voice rising. “And I am going to hold your hand. If you don’t like it, too bad.”

He left no room for questions and grabbed my hand with his. That sounded somewhat romantic, but it also annoyed me he was handholding me like a toddler. Like I needed training for baby steps. I threw a glare in his voice’s direction.

“If I fall again, I’m taking you down with me,” I whispered in defiance, tightening my grip on his, entwining my small fingers within his large one.

A rumbling sound alerted me.

He was laughing.

Jerk. I frowned, ignoring how nice the sound was.

I didn’t think he could laugh.

“Spoken like a true Bratva printsessa,” he mumbled.

Princess.

I shook my head at the dig. “And where do you think you came from?”

“I’m not Bratva,” he replied as we headed down the stairs.

“Or so you say.”

He changed the topic. “You’re probably hungry. What do you want to eat? I could stop at a drive-through.”

“Hash brown and tea is okay.”

“No coffee?” he asked.

I scrunched my nose. “I hate coffee. It’s too bitter.”

“Really?” he asked. He almost sounded excited. “I like chai too.”

I smiled at the common preference. Then, I remembered I was still upset, and I lost my expression.

He guided me to the car and opened the door. Once I was inside, my ears perked up hearing the backseat door opening and closing. “I’ll put your cane here.”

A few moments later, the driver’s door opened, and he put the car in drive. The ground moved underneath me.

I reached up a hand to tuck my hair behind me, grateful that my scar-free left face was turned in his direction. I pushed my hair back in front of my face to cover up the right side. He probably couldn’t see it, but I wanted to hide the ugly side.

“Where are we going? To your house?”

I was going to his home. It was kind of exciting.

“No,” he replied, bursting my bubble.

I chewed the inside of my lip, baffled.

“It’s not safe there. The Bratva knows where I live. I have a cabin near the woods, a private place I’ve kept. It’s secluded with few people around.”

Oh, the woods? “Are you staying with me?”

I tried not to sound too hopeful in case my hope was crushed.

“Mostly, yes,” he replied.

My heart flip flopped.

He slowed the car before he ordered my breakfast at the drive though. Then, the car moved again.

“I still have to work during the day, so I’ll bring you a guide dog to help you, and there will be two cops outside the place, guarding you at all times when I’m not present. It’s arranged.”

That was quick.

I brushed a hand against my knee, relieving an itch, and realized I was still wearing my cotton, flimsy night dress. Embarrassment hit me, and my cheeks burned that I hadn’t changed.

“What clothes would I wear?”

“You’re a small size, right?”

“Yes,” I mumbled.

“You like dresses.”

I bit my cheek. “How did you know?”

“You wore a white silk dress when I first saw you.”

I fiddled with my hands nervously and replied, “Yes. I do.”

My ears followed the movement of him speaking with someone again.

“This is your food,” he said softly as he placed my tea and hash browns in my hands. “Careful, the chai is hot.”

Placing the hash browns on my lap, I took a sip of my spicy tea, liking the taste of the warm earthy taste. I licked my lips before taking a sip again.

Miran cleared his throat and dropped the bomb.

“What’s your… cup size?”

I ended up choking on my teaand sputtering out the content from my mouth. I wiped my mouth, and I glanced in his voice’s direction, bewildered, and caught off guard.

“I don’t want to get you the wrong size.” He sounded like he was discussing breakfast with me. When I didn’t reply, he continued, “You look like a B, but I need to confirm.”

Did he just check out my breasts?

My nipples pebbled, hurting me, and they pressed against the fabric. What if he thought I was too small and skinny? Insecurity hit me, and my cheeks burned hot. I tried to hide my face from him and looked in the other direction. I crossed my arms over my breasts, covering them in reflex before dropping them. Startled, I realized, I wasn’t wearing a bra underneath. Holding in a groan, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

He could see me. All of me.

This was awkward.

Yet… my knees trembled that he’d checked me out. I crossed my legs, hoping my sensitive core would behave.

“32B,” I replied under my breath.

“I’m usually better at these things. It’s not the first time I’ve lived with a female,” he commented.

The flushness I felt momentarily disappeared, and it was replaced with the jealous monster again. He didn’t need to remind me of his history.

“The day Dahlia moved in with me, she wrote everything down on a piece of paper and handed it to me.” I nodded, not knowing what else to say. “I thought you might do the same, but I can’t read Braille, so it was better to ask.”

I stared furiously at my lap and asked what was burning inside of me.

“Is Dahlia your friend?”

There, I’d asked it, now it was too late for regrets.

“Nah,” he replied. “She is my family.”

My ears perked up. “Oh, do you think of her as a sister?”

Miran chuckled. “No.”

I wish he would have said yes. I waited for him to continue and clarify what he meant, but he stayed quiet now. I wanted to demand him to tell me now, but I didn’t have any right over him. It wasn’t my place. He could do whatever he wanted...

“What does she look like?” I asked quietly.

Stupid. Stupid. You’re so stupid, my inner voice chided.

I believed she was there the first time I’d met Miran. A deep, female voice flashed in my mind. She’d spoken up in my defense. She seemed strong whereas I was… weak. Yes, that unfamiliar, pretty voice was definitely her.

Miran didn’t reply easily. I sipped my tea again and took a bite of my hash brown. I almost groaned at the potato taste in my mouth.

“Why does it matter what she looks like?”

I was thankful the food was still in my mouth, and I was still chewing, that I didn’t have to answer him.

I didn’t know how to reply.

The ride was quiet, and the conversation had ended now.

I waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t say one word. I resumed finishing my breakfast instead.

❖

We were inside the cabin.

When I had first arrived, the leaves had crunched under my shoes. It was quiet. Too quiet. I didn’t mind an isolated cabin in the woods. Introvert problems. The air was fresher and windier here. I inhaled deeply as the earthy smell of the home hit me.

“Bailey is female,” Miran introduced me to my guide dog.

She huddled around my leg, rubbing her nose against it. I leaned down a hand, and it landed on her head. I stroked her gently before smiling and saying, “Hello.”

The dog barked and licked my hand, slobbering over it.

I ended up giggling.

“Do you count steps when you walk?” he asked.

“Yes, to familiarize myself.”

He began showing me the places of the house. He mentioned there was a living room, a dining room, two bathrooms, and two bedrooms. It seemed like a regular cabin, and I counted the steps to each location, trying to map it to my brain.

We were in my bedroom now.

“I ordered the guys to bring you clothes. They’re in this bag,” he said, hooking a plastic bag on my wrist. “I’ll get you more tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” I replied quietly.

“There is hot water,” he said, guiding me to the bathroom. “You can freshen up and come out. There are no stairs inside this house.”

I hid a smile before nodding.

“You’ll be okay in here?” he asked.

A moment later, the water started running.

“Yes.”

He took my plastic bag from me and said, “I’m putting the bag on the bathroom table. It’s right here.” Before I could correct him, he cleared his throat and said, “I mean, from where you are,” his footsteps came near me before retreating away, “Six, seven, eight steps straight ahead.”

My lips thinned to hide a smile.

Did he just count the steps?

He was so attractive, and I had no idea what he looked like. But his little actions touched me. I rubbed the back of my neck, staring at the ground, hoping he wouldn’t see anything on my face. I paused when I heard the shower running.

“This is shampoo and soap,” he said, handing me the items in my hand. “The doctor had said you shouldn’t get your arms and forehead wet because of the dressing.” He paused and asked, “You sure you’ll be, okay? You might fall again. You’re still… bruised.”

“I will try,” I replied with a weak smile.

“Bailey will be outside in the room. If you need me, just give me a shout. I’m going to the kitchen.”

When I nodded, my door closed and I figured he left.

I counted the steps toward the table before placing the shampoo and soap down. I quickly undressed, dropping the clothes on the floor. Grabbing my utensils and using my cane, I tapped around, hunting for the shower sill. Placing the cane against the wall, I slipped inside the hot shower. I turned my back to the shower so my dressing wouldn’t be damaged. A satisfied sigh left my mouth as the water hit my shoulders and neck, easing the tension and knots in it. I let the water cascade down my hair as I squirted the shampoo on top of me. I missed my head, and it landed on my eyes. Oops. It smelled nice like flowers.

Lavender.

I wanted to stay in the shower for longer, but I had to get out soon. I hurriedly finished and moved my unbandaged arm back, my hand wandering for the hot and cold knobs before I turned them off. Stepping outside the shower, I remembered if Miran had mentioned anything about the towel. He hadn’t. I sighed silently and walked toward the plastic bag, counting steps. I dug a hand inside and pulled out the belongings. My hand brushed against a fluffy large fabric. That feeling felt familiar.

A towel.

I grinned and pulled it out, wrapping it around myself. Opening the bathroom door, I stepped out and pulled the plastic bag with me. Bailey greeted me and rubbed her nose against my knee. I patted her head gently before I used my cane to feel for the bed. It clanked against the metal. I leaned down and my hand brushed against the cotton bedsheets. I pulled out the undergarment set and the dress inside the bag.

Dropping the towel, I slipped into the underwear. My arms slipped through the bra, but I was struggling to fasten the clasp behind me now. I groaned that it decided to be difficult today. Sometimes, I was able to clasp it without a struggle, other times it took time, and it wasn’t because of my blindness.

“You need a hand?” a voice asked from behind me.

That rumbling, deep, familiar voice was back, warming my chest.

When did he get here?

I paused, my hands still holding the back of the bra.

Ugh. He could see my naked back and legs!

What did he think of me?

“What are you doing here?” I questioned, turning my head to the side.

How long have you been here and how much did you see?

“Checking up on you,” he answered. “I thought you might still be in the shower, that’s why I entered without knocking. I hoped you hadn’t slipped.” After a moment, he asked, “You need help with that?” When I didn’t reply, he added, “You look like you’re struggling.”

My cheeks burned at the insult. I know he wasn’t taunting me, but it sure as hell felt like it.

“That’s because you’re here now.”

“I will leave then.”

His footsteps retreated from me, and I bit my lip before I called out, “Wait.”

He paused.

“Yes?”

“Okay, you can help me.”

Honestly, I wanted to feel his hands against my skin. I would’ve clasped my bra eventually. He probably thought I couldn’t.

Of, goodie, taking advantage of him now too? my inner voice chimed.

I ignored it.

“For the record, it’s not that I can’t fasten. It’s hard to reach around my back sometimes,” I commented as his footsteps came closer to me.

I actually couldn’t wait for his fingers to be on me.

His cool hands brushed against my still heated, wet skin. He hissed at the impact, and I frowned.

“What happened?”

He was silent until he replied, “Burn… injury.”

Oh. I wanted to ask him more questions, but I stayed quiet instead. Flames erupted across my skin as his touch crossed into dangerous territory. I held in my breath at the closeness, at his scent, at his manliness. Our scents mingled together until it was hard to differentiate what was his and what was mine. I couldn’t focus on anything but the rough fingers that touched me. He gripped the back of my bra, jostling my breasts up, before clasping the fabric behind me.

“There,” he replied, stepping back from me.

An icy wave washed over me, replacing the warmth I felt moments ago. The moment ended too soon.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

“I’ll be outside.”

His footsteps retreated.

No. Stay.

I was still upset with him, but my bodily desires had taken over.

“The dress,” I said, breathlessly. “Can you help me with that?”

He paused.

I was so going to hell.

“Will you need help every day? I can bring in a female for you.”

I was so screwed now.

You really are a demon, my inner voice said. He is genuinely caring, and you’re taking advantage of him.

“We could figure that out later.” I tried to brush off his question. “Now the dress.”

It came out more like an order.

His footsteps advanced toward me. I hoped his eyes were wandering over me. I kind of liked the feeling. I wanted to see his reaction and his expression. What was he thinking?

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” I added under my breath.

He still needed to know that we weren’t friends.

“I thought we were past that,” he replied.

I narrowed my eyes. “Of course not.”

“Look, I’ve already taken responsibility for that, and I’m amending it.”

How hard was it to say, I’m sorry?

I wrinkled my nose. “Your apology is so formal.”

He sighed. “And you are still frustrating,” he grunted. “I thought we were getting along for a second. My mistake, printsessa.” He said the word printsessa like I was spoiled.

I turned to face his voice’s direction, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

“Stop calling me princess, Mr. Bratva heir,” I snapped.

“You really shouldn’t call me that,” he warned, “My men might hear you.”

I rolled my eyes before biting my lips.

“Okay, Mr. Heir,” I corrected.

He sighed again. “I’m stuck with you out of all people,” he mumbled under his breath. “Now that dress— “

I cut him off, “What do you mean, out of all people?”

“I believe you are just looking for an argument. Are you that bored?”

Jerk. Although, I secretly liked bantering with him.

My mouth dropped. “You…You are so… such a…”

“Such a what?” he prompted.

“Jerk face,” I shot, pointing a finger, hopefully in his direction.

He was quiet for a second, and I was afraid I had overstepped. His breaths grew harder. I think he was pissed off.

“You really shouldn’t argue with me when you’re wearing only a bra,” Miran said slowly.

“Why?” I asked, confused.

Nothing could have prepared me for his reply.

My throat clogged, and I couldn’t make a sound.

“Because your breathing gets heavier, and your tits move when you’re mad. I can’t… focus.”