Blindfolded Innocence

  The day had passed quickly at work. Brad had stayed in his wing, and I in mine. I had accomplished all the tasks that Broward had left for me, and looked forward to not thinking about work for the next two days. The first-class stewardess walked back by, pausing by our seats.

  “Champagne?” she offered.

  “Yes, please,” I replied. Brad nodded. We certainly seemed to be traveling in style. I had never been in first class before and felt ridiculously giddy about the experience. I took both the pillow and blanket the stewardess offered, then stretched out in my roomy seat, a glass of champagne in hand. Brad had taken the aisle seat and his enormous frame made the spacious seat look tiny. It was impossible to ignore the energy he radiated, and I became suddenly nervous about the upcoming trip and how it would go. There would be no escape there, no way to distance myself from his sexuality, the power that emitted from his every move. The thought of the two of us alone for two days... I had no idea what to expect. And I hoped I hadn’t made a mistake by agreeing to come.

  Fourteen

  Rule 3: You may not know what will occur until you arrive. We reserve the right to change the events according to her desires.

  Landing in Vegas was an experience in itself—not the landing, but the walk through the airport. We had each packed only a carry-on, so we headed straight for the exit once we left the plane. The airport was crowded with cleavage, diamonds and tourists, its walls covered with digital screens advertising different shows, casinos and restaurants. We fought through the crowds and finally walked past the exit, hitting the taxi and limo lines. It was chaos, with a long line for the taxis and all the drivers shouting and waving. Brad spotted our driver first, an older black man in a tuxedo. He went over and shook his hand. “Hey, Leonard,” he said, pumping his hand enthusiastically.

  “Hey, Mr. De Luca,” the driver said in a thick New York accent. “How ya been doing?”

  “Great, Leonard, just great. This is Julia,” Brad said, holding out his arm and drawing me toward them. I shook Leonard’s hand and smiled. He was a large man who looked as though he might have been a bouncer in his younger days. He was missing a tooth but still managed to look dignified.

  “Hi, Julia. It’s a pleasure to meet you. That bag all you got?”

  “Yes, sir, but it’s a heavy one.”

  “Awww, it’ll be no trouble to me. Besides, the big guy can always help me out.” He clapped Brad on the back.

  “How’s Jeanne?” Brad asked, following Leonard to a white stretch limo. The driver limped a little when he walked, so it was a slow trip. I lagged behind and watched them chat.

  “She good man, real good. She been playing with the grandkids all day while school’s out.”

  “I bet she enjoys that.”

  “She do—but I’m starting to want my house back! Those kids watch too much cartoons, not enough baseball.” He chuckled good-naturedly as he swung our bags into the trunk.

  Leonard held the door open and I ducked into the limo, sliding all the way over to the other side. Brad crawled in after me and shut the door. It was quiet inside the limo, and we waited for Leonard to make his way to the driver’s seat.

  “I take it you come often?” I said dryly.

  He grinned at me and grabbed my knee, giving it a squeeze and leaving his hand there. Now that we had landed, his intensity had lightened, and he seemed playful. “I try to come up about every other month. Clears my head, and sometimes my wallet.”

  “You typically come alone?” I hated asking, but I wanted to know.

  “Depends on whether I’m seeing anyone, or what kind of trip I’m in the mood for.”

  “And what kind of trip are you in the mood for now?”

  He slid his hand up my bare leg until it reached my upper thigh. “Haven’t really figured that out yet,” he said. His hand on my bare skin lit up every sensor in my body, sending a streak of arousal through me. I looked at him, at his ridiculously sexy profile, his gorgeous lips curving into a sinful smile. I had done it, yielded to his demands and come on this trip. What on earth would I do now? In this city of sexuality and sin, where secrets were made and affairs carried out. I fought the impulse, tried to focus on anything but the feel of his flesh on my thigh, his fingers moving gently, teasing my skin.

  Fuck it. I leaned over, grabbed the back of his head and kissed him.

  Our first kiss began tentatively. It was not a planned event, and I wasn’t sure how he would react. He responded immediately, reaching a hand between my body and the seat, hooking it around my waist and pulling me tight to him. He deepened the kiss and used his other hand to brush my hair away from my face, and then trailed his fingers down my neck and cupped my breast through my thin T-shirt. His hands on my breast and tight around my waist were electrifying, and I moaned, feeling arousal take over my entire body. Our tongues combined perfectly, teasing and tasting each other until we finally pulled apart, gasping. I stared into his eyes, frozen. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  He leaned back, sliding his hands in all areas they shouldn’t be until they were back in his domain. I scooted back in my seat also, nervously biting my nails and trying to think of what to say. God, did Leonard see that? I glanced toward the front and saw that he had closed the privacy screen. Thank God.

  “Come here.”

  I looked up. Brad was patting the seat next to him. The space I’d just scooted out of. Hesitantly, I slid over again, and he used his arm to spin me away from him, so I was facing the door. “Move down,” he said. I slid my butt out until I was lying down, my head on his leg.

  “I’ve got to make a call,” he said. “You relax. We have a thirty-minute drive ahead of us.” He began to run his fingers through my hair, and I did relax. I tried to figure out what was going on between us, and what I would do once we were alone in the room, and what...

  Instead, with his hand gently playing with my hair, and the hum of the car on the road, I drifted off to sleep.

  I woke up to the sound of Brad talking on the phone.

  “I told you I would take care of it....

  “No, for Christ’s sake, don’t get him involved....

  “I can’t handle it on this trip. I’m not alone....

  “Just a girl. No one you know....

  “She’s not that type, too straitlaced....”

  I lay still, with my eyes closed. His fingers were still running through my hair. Has he been doing that the entire time?

  “Look, I have to go. We’re almost at the casino. I’ll call you next time I’m in town. Tell Jenny I said hi.”

  The limo swayed as we rounded a curve. Brad gently shook my shoulder. “Julia.”

  I pretended to sleep on.

  “Julia.” Louder this time.

  I stirred, and then opened my eyes. He was looking down at me, bemused. “Hi.”

  I stretched, as much as I could in the backseat of a limo. Then I sat up slowly, rubbing my eyes.

  “Are we here?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, we’re about to pull up. You might want to check your makeup.”

  I blinked at him, and then reached into my bag and pulled out a compact. Peering into it, I saw that my mascara had smudged, and I had a bit of dried drool running down the side of my mouth. Great, Julia. Really sexy. I quickly grabbed a tissue from a built-in dispenser on the dash and wiped away the offending items. I was sliding my zippered bag back into my purse when the limo pulled up to the casino.

  Bellagio was gorgeous, a massive cream high-rise with a lake in front. Brad gestured to the water. “Our room will have a view of the fountains. I think you’ll really enjoy them.” We pulled into a massive portico with black-vested valets everywhere. Leonard stopped at the curb and one of the attendants opened our limo doors. The employee recognized Brad immediately and tipped his hat to him.

  ??
?Mr. De Luca. Welcome back, sir.”

  “Thank you. Our bags are in the trunk.”

  “Certainly. They will be waiting in your room.”

  “I appreciate it.” Brad pulled a thick wad from his pocket and peeled off a one-hundred-dollar bill. He handed it to the man, who pocketed it.

  “Thank you, Mr. De Luca. Let me know if I can help with anything else, sir.”

  Brad nodded at him, grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the building. Inside was a sea of activity. Colors and sounds were everywhere. The lobby ceiling was a mass of handblown glass flowers in every color I could imagine. There was a line of easily a hundred people waiting to check in. The front desk was at least ninety feet long and had more than ten agents posted behind it. I expected us to head toward the line, but Brad veered to the right and we entered a small private lobby on the way to the casino floor.

  Decadence seemed to be the theme the decorator had picked for this space. The walls were covered in gold-print wallpaper, with cream paneling covering the lower half. There was a leather couch and chairs surrounding a low table with various desserts and finger food positioned on it. A seventy-inch flat screen showed ESPN, and a beverage stand occupied an antique table set along the right-hand wall. Two attractive women in skirt suits stood along the wall, ready to spring into action if a guest needed help. Two more beautiful women were behind the desk, one of whom was on the phone. Brad indicated for me to sit on the couch, and he stepped up to the desk. I helped myself to a bottle of water and a mini–key lime pie. I had just popped the bite-size dessert into my mouth when Brad finished at the desk and came back to me, a key packet in hand.

  “Ready?” I nodded my response, my mouth filled with deliciousness. He took my hand and led me into the madness of the casino.

  I had never been to a casino before, but this one seemed very comparable to every Vegas movie I had ever seen. The colors were brighter, the smell of smoke invaded my senses, but everything else seemed the same. There were excited screams coming from somewhere, old ladies in fanny packs sitting at slot machines and depressed-looking men fingering their dwindling chip stacks. Brad looked longingly at the blackjack tables, but continued through the space until we reached a set of elevators, where he pressed the up button.

  The elevator seemed uncomfortably small, but I think it was just because I was so aware of Brad’s invasive presence. Classical music was playing and, looking up, I saw a security camera fixed down at me. I quickly looked away. At the twentieth floor, the doors slowly opened, and we exited.

  I expected a typical hotel room, but should have known better. The first hint was the door, or doors, to our room—a double set made of mahogany. Next to the doors was a brass plate with 20E printed on it. Brad swiped the key card and opened the doors.

  It was a two-bedroom suite that screamed luxury. The doors opened to a large living room with floor-to-ceiling windows showing an impressive view of the Strip. Brown suede couches with silk pillows, plush cream carpeting and a leather-and-walnut desk occupied the room. A dining table sat off to one side, with a large floral arrangement at its center. I roamed the suite, seeing a large fruit-and-chocolate platter in the master bedroom along with a card. The master had a huge king bed, an ottoman at its foot and fresh flowers on its bedside tables. The master bathroom was the size of my apartment at home. It had a huge Whirlpool tub, as well as a walk-in steam shower with multiple body jets and a huge rain head. Heated marble floors led to a large vanity with his-and-hers sinks, and a dressing area. There was the standard toilet room—I never understood those—and a large walk-in closet. Our suitcases were already in the closet; several of Brad’s suits already hung up. I wondered if they had opened my suitcase. I also wondered why it was in here versus in the other bedroom. I wandered over there to check it out.

  The second room was noticeably smaller, but also well appointed. It had a queen bed, an upholstered chair and a dresser. The bathroom en suite would have put a Hampton Inn to shame, but was puny compared to the one in the master. I walked back to the living room, where Brad was dumping the contents of his pockets onto the counter.

  “I need to go down to the casino and speak to my host,” he said without looking up. “Do you want to dress for dinner?”

  I looked at my watch, surprised. It showed 11:40 p.m., but it was set to eastern time; it was either 8:40 or 9:40 in Vegas. We had eaten here and there—both in the airports and in first class—and I had assumed that those snacks had comprised dinner. Apparently not.

  “Umm...okay. I’m not really hungry.”

  “Dinner here is just as much about the experience as it is the food. Are you tired?”

  “Yes. I mean no....” My nerves were fried. I was tired, but wasn’t ready to face that situation yet. I was terrified of going to bed, or not going to bed, with this man. “I don’t know,” I finished lamely. This suave man in a suit riffling through hundred-dollar bills in a gold-laden Vegas suite wasn’t the same guy who had grinned at me through a mouthful of pepperoni pizza yesterday. I tried to breathe normally while thoughts of escape flooded my mind. What have I gotten myself into?

  He looked up at me and froze. I could see thoughts flitting through his mind, showing themselves on his face, but he stayed in place, silent and unmoving, and I did the same. I tried to force my face into a casual smile, but my lips didn’t move. Unexpectedly, I burst into tears.

  He was at my side in an instant, his hands in my hair, pulling it out of the way, and his face pressed against mine, his lips soft on my forehead and cheeks. He lifted me up and carried me to the big room, laying me on the bed. He smoothed my hair back, and brushed at my tear-soaked cheeks. My body shook and I was sobbing like a child. He shushed my sobs, and kissed the back of my hands, which I had brought up to cover my face.

  My sobs were starting to slow, and I tried to sniff them back, but just ended up with a throat full of phlegm. I swallowed hard. Brad kissed my forehead gently and lay on the bed next to me, propped up on one arm so that he was above me.

  “What’s wrong?” His deep voice, impossibly gentle, almost sent me into another crying spell. I fought it as hard as I could. He’s going to think I’m mental. Maybe I am mental.

  I had no good answer to give him, so I just shook my head mutely. His eyes were pools of concern and confusion. I felt so impossibly stupid and childish.

  “Is it something I did?”

  I couldn’t bear the expression on his face, the confused, searching look. I hiccuped, my throat filled with tears, and I finally spoke. “I don’t— It’s just... I don’t want to have sex with you.” The words came out broken and strangled, and I cringed at the adolescent sound of them. His laughter broke my shame and I looked to him quickly, anger winning the roulette spin of the emotional mess that was my current state.

  As soon as he saw my face, he held up a hand in defense. “Julia, please. I’m sorry.” His face was clear, his eyes strong and confident again. “I wasn’t expecting you to have sex with me. Is that what you think I brought you here for?” His voice dropped all trace of laughter, and was now concerned and gentle. He brought a hand up, pushing my hair out of my eyes again. I turned my face away, wanting to see anything but his pity.

  “Julia. Sex is not something I need to woo someone for. I brought you here because I can’t stand traveling solo. I hate to be by myself, hate to be reminded of the fact that I’m alone.” The words were so raw, so honest in their imperfection that I turned, meeting his eyes, looking for and finding truth in their depths. “I want you sexually. Trust me on that. But that’s not why I brought you here. I brought you because I like spending time with you, and would like to get to know you without you having to fear Broward or the office finding out.”

  I tried to speak, tried to move my mouth and have some kind of intelligible thought emerge, but nothing came out. I felt so much at one time—embarrassed, relieved and, in some crazy
way, aroused. I reached for him, and he shook his head, keeping me at bay, my arms falling limply to the bed. He grabbed my wrists and stood, pulling me to my feet. I tried to think of something to say, some response to his assurances, but my mind was wiped by the feel of his hands. They gripped the hem of my shirt and pulled up, dragging it over my flat stomach and the swell of my breasts, up and over my head. Tossing the shirt to the side, he wordlessly ran his fingers down the sides of my body until he hit the top of my skirt. He followed it around to the back, slipped his fingers underneath the material and unzipped it. His movements were efficient, purposeful enough that I relaxed against his touch, numbly moving to assist him. He let go of the fabric and it fell silently to the floor. I stepped out of it as well as my flats. I stood in front of him in my plain cotton bra and panties, my cheeks still wet from the tears. After that speech, he’s really going to try and have sex with me?

  He bent over and picked me up, his huge muscles making my weight seem negligible. He carried me to the bed, drew back the blanket and set me down softly on the silky sheets. He pulled the cool sheet and down comforter over my body, enveloping me in luxury. He kissed my lips gently and then moved up and kissed my forehead. Reaching over, he switched off the bedside light, plunging the room into soft darkness. Standing up, he looked down at me, his expression unreadable. He pulled his shirt off, exposing a tan, muscular chest and huge shoulders and arms. He went around to the other side of the bed and I heard a zipper. I stiffened, still unsure of his intentions. Moments later, he was in the bed, his arms surrounding me. He turned me to my side, away from him, and spooned his hard body against mine. I shifted, fitting tighter into him, and then relaxed into an exhausted and deep sleep.

  Fifteen

  I woke up once during the night. I rolled over and reached out, feeling for Brad, but the bed was empty. I raised my head and softly called his name. Hearing no response, I pushed back the blankets and stood. I went into the bathroom, used the toilet, washed my hands and padded back to bed. I didn’t need to check the other rooms to know he wasn’t there. The man had a presence that filled a space—if he was there, I would have sensed it. I glanced at the clock on my way to the bed: 2:45 a.m. I lay back down and was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.