Faking Blindness: He Caught Me in Lingerie

3:03 AM. The blue glow of my phone burns my retinas. I am doom-scrolling through TikTok, letting the algorithm numb my brain.

Then, a video stops my thumb in mid-air.

It is one of those viral Reddit reading videos with a Minecraft parkour background. The tag BlindHusband has over ten million views. The deep, raspy AI male voice begins to read.

"I regained my sight, but my contract wife still thinks I am blind. She walks around the house dressed like shes auditioning for a dark fantasy."

"I can't bring myself to tell her I can see. What the hell do I do?"

"Yesterday, she wore nothing but a black translucent lace slip. The silhouette was... insane. I spent half the night in the cold shower. Is she trying to torture me?"

The video cuts to a screenshot of the thread. The Original Poster (OP) uploaded a photo of the lingerie in question.

Air traps in my lungs. My veins freeze.

The lace pattern. The cut of the silk.

It is identical to the one I bought yesterday. The one I wore last night.

I scroll down to the comments. The comment section is a war zone.

Chapter 1

[Throwaway_Husband: OP, she is your wife. Why are you acting like a virgin? Just take her.]

[SpicyTaco: Wait... if you are blind, who is she dressing up for? Hate to break it to you, but she might be stepping out on you, buddy. Or... are you into that? Whatever.]

[TruthHurts: Ignore the haters. She took care of you for years while you were blind. Don't be that guy who dumps his loyal wife the second he gets his vision back. Don't be a Patrick Bateman wannabe.]

The OP replies. His username is DarkShark.

[DarkShark: My hearing is excellent. No other men have been in this house.]

[DarkShark: Our situation is... complicated. A contract.]

[DarkShark: She is the daughter of a man who owes me everything. I went blind three years ago. She only married me to pay off Wayne's gambling debts and her mother's medical bills. It is a transaction.]

[DarkShark: I am grateful, but she has someone else in her heart. At home, she treats me with polite distance. Like I am her roommate or her boss.]

[DarkShark: I did not expect to want to be her real husband. I planned to let her go when I recovered. Now? I am terrified to speak.]

The comments section instantly shifts. The TikTok comments are going wild, analyzing the tone.

[TeaSpiller: Whoa. The OP sounds polite, but does anyone else smell the obsession? He is down bad.]

[RedFlagHunter: +1. 'Transaction'? 'Grateful'? Nah. This guy sounds possessive. He says he doesn't want to trap her, but he is literally watching her undress while pretending to be blind. That is dark, bestie.]

[AlphaVibes: He is regretting the contract. He wants to renegotiate the terms. Permanently.]

[ChaosQueen: OP, if you can't say it, drop the @. I'll slide into her DMs and tell her.]

[SimpDetection: OP says 'I don't want to force her,' but his actions say 'You are mine.']

[Realist: Don't be naive. If she hated you, she would be wearing sweatpants. She is wearing lace. Connect the dots.]

The OP replies again. This time, the text is longer, darker.

[DarkShark: You are right. I have loved her for a long time. But she does not look at me that way. She used to hide from me.]

[DarkShark: We went to different schools. I used to make up excuses to visit her campus. After graduation, I sponsored her sorority events just to be in the same room. She was always cold.]

[DarkShark: She thought I was boring. Too old. Too serious. She only laughed with her childhood friend, Chase. When she looked at me, she only saw a walking ATM.]

[DarkShark: I will admit it here because no one knows who I am. Im a sick bastard. I want to consume her whole.]

[DarkShark: These days... watching her when she thinks she is alone... it feels like I stole a dream. I don't want to wake up.]

A sharp pain radiates through my chest. I drop the phone onto the duvet.

When I first saw the lace dress in the photo, my heart had actually skipped a beat. A foolish, dangerous hope had flared up.

Could it be Xavier?

But reading the rest, the cold reality washes over me. It is impossible.

Xavier Hethe ruthlessly efficient, cold-blooded "Shark of Wall Street"doesn't have emotions like this.

The Reddit OP is obsessed with his wife.

My husband, Xavier, barely tolerates me.

The OP claims he is jealous.

Xavier looks right through me. I am part of the inventory.

Chapter 2

My chest feels tight, like the air in the room has been replaced with water. I need a drink.

I walk downstairs to the kitchen, my movements mechanical. My mind is still racing, replaying the words from the TikTok video. Obsessed. Jealous. Sick bastard.

I reach for a glass on the high shelf, but my hands are shaking.

Crash!

The crash detonates in the silent mansion. It isn't a glass.

I freeze, staring at the shattered remains of a crystal bottle on the marble floor. The amber liquid pools around my bare feet, the pungent, smoky scent of whiskey filling the air.

Oh god.

This wasn't just any bottle. It was a Macallan 50 Year Old. A collector's holy grail. It is worth over fifty thousand dollars.

The blood drains from my face. I start trembling.

Nancys voice claws at my eardrums. You clumsy idiot. You ruin everything. How are we going to pay for this?

I drop to my knees, panic seizing my throat. I reach for the jagged shards with my bare hands, desperate to... what? Glue it back together?

"Vivian?" The voice is low, baritone, and calm.

Xavier.

I flinch. Bile rises in my throat.

He stands framed by the doorway, radiating a cold, jagged energy. Beautiful. Lethal. Untouchable.

His eyes, hidden behind pitch-black aviators even indoors, are fixed on a point just above my head.

"What happened?" he asks, stepping forward. He moves through the shadows like he was born in them, despite the cane in his hand.

"I... I broke it," I stammer, my voice barely a whisper. "The Macallan. I'm so sorry, Xavier."

"I'll pay for it. Put it on my debt. I'll work extra shifts..."

I am rambling. The fear of the contract terms is suffocating me. Clause 14: Damages to property.

Xavier stops. He tilts his head, listening to the crunch of glass as I shift on the floor.

"Stop." His hand clamps around my wrist. "You'll bleed."

He navigates the room perfectly, reaching down. His grip is warm, firm, and shockingly strong.

Under the harsh kitchen lights, his profile is sharpa jawline that could cut glass, a nose straight and aristocratic. He looks less like a man and more like a weapon wrapped in a bespoke shirt.

"It's just whiskey, Vivian," he says dismissively. "We can buy another."

"It was fifty thousand dollars," I choke out.

"Pocket change," he replies, his tone bored. "Get up."

He pulls me to my feet. He is tall, towering over me. The scent of himsandalwood and bergamotmixes with the spilled alcohol.

He is always like this. Polite. Clinical. Detached.

He never yells, but he never cares either.

My mind flashes back to the Reddit post. Im a sick bastard. I want to consume her whole.

The contrast is laughable.

I pull my hand away from his grip. "I'll call the cleaning crew. I'm sorry to wake you."

I look at his dark glasses. I know he can't see me, but I feel exposed.

"Xavier," I say, the question slipping out before I can stop it. "When the bandages come off... were done, right?"

Xaviers hand, which was reaching for the counter, freezes in mid-air.

I look down, avoiding the gaze I know he doesn't have. "I mean, once you are recovered, you won't need a nurse or a fake wife anymore."

Silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.

Xavier doesn't answer.

His jaw muscles tighten. His hand descends to the back of the heavy wooden chair next to him.

I watch his knuckles turn white as he grips the wood. He is squeezing it so hard I think the oak might splinter.

But his voice, when it comes, is perfectly even. "Go to bed, Vivian. Watch out for the glass."

He turns his back to me.

I hurry out of the kitchen, feeling like I just escaped a cage.

I don't look back. If I had, I might have wondered why a blind man was staring directly at the spot where the lace of my nightgown ended and my skin began.

Chapter 3

I wish Xavier would never see again.

The thought flashes through my mind, toxic and sharp. I flinch. Bile rises in my throat.

My eyes drift to the black lace lingerie lying on the bedthe one identical to the Reddit post.

Suddenly, all my energy drains away.

Vivian, what difference does it make if he can see?

In his heart, youve never existed anyway.

I blink back tears, folding the silk slip with trembling hands. The desire to wear it evaporates.

Since the contract marriage began, Ive bought closets full of beautiful, daring clothes.

Here, in this fortress of solitude where no one can see me, I felt safe to be myself. To shed the skin of the invisible girl.

Puberty hit me like a freight train.

In high school, my curves were a target, not a blessing. Teenage boys would stare, their eyes sticky and gross, whispering slurs behind my back. Cow. Slut. Udders.

No matter how much I hunched my shoulders, no matter how many layers of baggy clothes I wore, I couldn't hide.

I remember the gym class nightmare. The dreaded Mile Run.

The boys lined up along the track, jeering. The girls, led by the queen bees, snickering with malice.

"Look at her bounce," one of them sneered. "Who is she trying to seduce? The coach?"

Panic seized my chest. Mercedes stuck her foot out as I passed. I went down hard.

Riiiip.

The sound of fabric tearing echoed across the field. She had stepped on the hem of my shirt as I fell, ripping the back open completely. My bra, my skineverything was exposed.

The laughter erupted like a wave.

I curled into a ball, trying to disappear.

Then, the world went dark.

A heavy Varsity jacket dropped over me. The name "HE" was emblazoned across the back in bold letters. It was a brand. A claim. Cedar, leather, and rain.

"Do you feel powerful, mocking a girl on the ground?"

The voice was cold, sharp as a blade.

It was Xavier He.

He was the heir next door, the valedictorian, the star Quarterback. The boy everyone loved.

He was always polite, distant. I had never heard him sound so... dangerous.

He scooped me up in his arms, effortless, like I weighed nothing. He carried me across the field to the nurse's office, ignoring the stunned silence he left behind.

I sobbed into his chest, snot and tears soaking into the vintage wool.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, his voice softening. "We're almost there."

"They're laughing at me," I choked out. "I'm disgusting."

He stopped walking. "Look at me," he commanded gently.

I didn't dare.

"Vivian," he said. "There is nothing about you that is shameful. Your body... is beautiful. Just like you."

His words were a balm on a wound I didn't know how to heal.

For years, I had been told to hide. My mother would pinch my arm if my shirt was too tight. Cover up. Don't be a slut like your aunt.

But Xavier said I was beautiful.

I buried my face in his neck, wishing the walk to the nurse's office would last forever.

He was the Golden Boyperfect, distant, placing everyone else in his shadow.

But for a moment, I dared to wish he would look at me and see something other than a charity case.

Chapter 4

Maybe misery loves company.

Late that night, I find myself scrolling through the Reddit thread again. The comments are exploding.

[ToxicLover: OP, this 'secret yearning' vibe is kinda hot but also super creepy. I'm here for it.]

[SmutAddict_69: This is peak Dark Romance! The disability kink is real. 'I'll stay blind to keep you.' That is some villain behavior and I am obsessed.]

[SaltyB: Wait, so he's basically gaslighting her by pretending to be blind? That's messed up.]

I scroll down. The OP, DarkShark, has updated.

[DarkShark: She suspects something. She asked about the contract ending today.]

[DarkShark: I didn't answer. I couldn't let her go.]

[DarkShark: At dinner, I could tell she had been crying. It must be torture for her, being stuck with a blind cripple. But I'm selfish. I want to keep her in this cage.]

[DarkShark: She looked breathtaking tonight. A pale pink silk slip. It looked painted on. If another man saw her like this... I think I'd lose my mind.]

The comments are a mix of swooning and skepticism.

[OOTD_Queen: Wait, why would she dress up for a blind guy? That doesn't make sense unless she likes him.]

[LogicBro: Bro, she knows you can't see. She's dressing for herself. Women do that.]

[DarkShark: No. Before the accident, she dressed like a nun. Always covered up. Now... it's like she's teasing me. Or maybe she just feels safe because she thinks I can't look.]

[Troll99: Maybe she's dressing up for the 'childhood friend' you mentioned? Is she sneaking out?]

[DarkShark: ...]

[DarkShark: She's not that kind of person. I trust her.]

[DarkShark: But if she is... it's my fault for trapping her. I deserve it.]

[DarkShark: I thought I could let her go after three years. But now that I can see her... I want to lock the doors and throw away the key. Is there any way to keep her?]

The replies are wild.

[SimpKing: Dude, you are down BAD. Just tell her!]

[CuckHunter: You're a cuckold in the making, bro. Give up.]

[LoveGuru: Okay, listen. OP, how do you look? If you're hot, try seduction. Break the touch barrier. See if she recoils. Trust your face card.]

[DarkShark: I am told I am adequately attractive.]

I let out a bitter laugh in the dark room.

Adequately attractive?

If this were Xavier, that would be the understatement of the century. Xavier He is a masterpiece.

But the situation is all wrong.

The OP's wife hates him. I... I don't hate Xavier.

And Xavier has never tried to touch me. Not once in three years.

He is cold. Indifferent.

This OP is burning with desire.

Chapter 5

The next day, the housekeeper calls in sick.

I take over dinner duty.

Before the ring was on my finger, I couldn't boil water without setting off the smoke alarm. Xavier taught me everything.

Back when he could see, he was a gourmet chef. I remember watching him cook at parties, his sleeves rolled up, handling knives with surgical precision.

Mercedes, his fiance back then, would laugh and say, "God, I'm going to ruin my figure when we're married." She would glance at me, a smirk on her lips, reminding me of my place. The neighbor kid. The charity case.

After the accident, I became his hands.

At first, I was clumsy. I burned sauces. I cut my fingers.

He never got angry. He would just guide my hands, his voice calm. "Slow down, Vivian. Don't hurt yourself."

Now, three years later, I'm decent.

The kitchen fills with the scent of rosemary and garlic. I stand on my tiptoes, reaching for the spice rack on the top shelf.

Suddenly, a wall of heat presses against my back.

I freeze.

It's Xavier.

He smells of rain and expensive soap. Fresh from the shower.

His chest is solid against my shoulder blades. I can feel the dampness of his hair dripping onto my neck.

"What do you need?" His voice is right in my earlow, vibrating through my bones.

"P-pepper," I stammer, my brain short-circuiting.

A hand reaches past me. A pale, strong hand with long fingers.

It moves with terrifying accuracy.

He bypasses the salt, the cumin, and the paprika. He grabs the black pepper mill on the first try.

He doesn't step back.

Instead, he boxes me in. One hand holds the pepper, the other slams onto the marble counter beside my hip, trapping me.

He leans in. His nose brushes the sensitive skin behind my ear. He inhales deeply, a sound that is half-sigh, half-growl.

My heart is hammering so hard I'm afraid he can feel it against his chest.

"Vivian..." His voice is rough, like gravel over velvet.

"X-Xavier...?" I squeak. "I mean... Sir?"

His grip on the counter tightens until his knuckles turn white.

"Don't call me that," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "I am your husband."

The air leaves the kitchen. A vacuum forms, sucking the breath right out of my lungs. It's suffocating. It's electric.

I should push him away.

But then, my eyes dart to the pepper mill in his hand.

Wait.

There are three identical grinders. No Braille. No labels. He didnt hesitate. Not for a second.

How did he know which one was the pepper?

A chill runs down my spine, warring with the heat of his body.

The Reddit post flashes in my mind.

I regained my sight...

Is it possible?

Does he know?

Chapter 6

A cold sweat breaks out over my skin, chilling me to the bone.

I push Xavier awayhard.

My face is burning, a wildfire of shame. I can't look at him. My eyes dart down to my outfit, panic rising in my throat.

Im wearing a pale pink silk slip dress. Its delicate, femininesomething closer to lingerie than a dress.

But on my body, it looks... excessive. The fabric strains against my curves, the short hem riding up dangerously high. It screams for attention in a way that feels forbidden.

Since I was a child, Nancy, my mother, drilled it into me. Thats vulgar. Thats cheap. You look like a two-dollar hooker. She policed every hemline, every neckline, terrified Id turn out like the women my father chased.

But I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to wear the clothes the other girls wore.

I couldn't wear them outside, under her critical eye or the mocking gazes of my peers. So, this house became my sanctuary. My secret runway.

When I started cooking, I had thrown on an apron to protect the dress.

Now, looking down, I realize the horror of the visual.

From the back, the apron covers everything. But from the side? From the front?

It looks like Im wearing only an apron.

If Xavier can see... if he really saw me like this... what does he think? That Im trying to seduce him? That Im the "succubus" the Reddit post described?

Shame nails my feet to the floor. I instinctively cover my chest with my hands, my breath coming in shallow gasps.

The silence in the kitchen is heavy, brittle as ice.

After what feels like an eternity, Xaviers hand reaches past me. He turns off the stove.

"Let's eat," he says.

His voice is flat. I've upset him again.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging.

Xavier pauses. He doesn't move away.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that low register that always makes my stomach flip.

He moves with practiced ease, retrieving plates from the cupboard, gauging distances by memory and touch. He serves the food, his movements fluid and precise.

For three years, he has mastered this house. He navigates the darkness better than I navigate the light.

I'm the one with sight. I'm the one who is supposed to be taking care of him. Yet here I am, a mess in a pink slip, needing him to salvage dinner.

I sit down and take a bite of the risotto.

I almost gag.

Its burnt. Bitter and acrid.

I put down my silver fork, humiliation washing over me.

"It's burnt," I whisper. "We should order takeout."

Xavier keeps eating. His face is impassive.

"It's fine," he says calmly. "It's delicious."

I stare at him. How can he lie like that?

That night, heavy with doubt, I open the Reddit thread again.

DarkShark has posted an update.

[DarkShark: I tried. Today, I pretended to help her reach for something. I got close to her on purpose. I wanted to see if she would lean in.]

[DarkShark: She was terrified. She pushed me away. Hard.]

[DarkShark: And then she cried.]

[DarkShark: I terrified her. She looks at me like Im a monster.]

The comments are flooding in.

[FaceCardDecline: OP, you said you were attractive. Are you sure you're not delusional? Maybe you're a creep.]

[LetItGo: It's been three years, man. If nothing has happened by now, it's not going to. She's done her duty. Let her go.]

[CrimeJunkie: 'I scared her again'? What did you do to her before? Is this actually a thriller movie disguised as a romance? OP is giving stalker vibes.]

The OP replies, his tone stubborn.

[DarkShark: But I still love her.]

[DarkShark: Even the burnt food she wanted to throw away... I ate every bite. Not because it was good, but because her hands made it. It tasted like devotion.]

[DarkShark: I'm afraid that once she knows the truth, I'll never get to eat her cooking again.]

[DarkShark: Years ago, when she used to come over for tutoring, she loved my cooking. I learned just for her. I fantasized about cooking for her every day.]

[DarkShark: I never expected to go blind. To force her to learn how to cook for me. She shouldn't be doing this. She should be happy. She shouldn't be trapped by a blind man. I always feel so guilty.]

My heart hammers against my ribs.

The burnt food.

The tutoring.

Could it be? Is there such a coincidence in the world?

Or is DarkShark actually Xavier?

Chapter 7

I keep reading, my pulse racing.

[User_555: Damn, my brain is fighting itself. Part of me thinks OP should leave her alone, but reading his inner thoughts... this man is down so bad it hurts. The angst is real.]

[CryingInTheClub: This is top-tier angst. Please, god of romance, give them a Happy Ending. OP's wife, please open your eyes!]

[DarkShark: Love is feeling like you always owe them something.]

The OP continues, his words scrolling up my screen like a confession.

[DarkShark: I never did anything bad to her. I couldn't bear to.]

[DarkShark: Her family was strict. She barely spoke to any boys except her childhood friend. I only got close to her by playing the role of the reliable 'boy next door'.]

[DarkShark: In high school, I tutored her. Every time she was in my room, sitting on my bed... I had to restrain myself. I wanted to lock the door and keep her there forever.]

[DarkShark: One time, a thunderstorm knocked out the power. Shes terrified of thunder. I found her trembling in the dark and pulled her into my lap to calm her down. She smelled so sweet, felt so soft. I lost my mind for a second. I didn't want to let go.]

[DarkShark: Someone walked in. She pushed me away violently and started crying. She avoided me after that.]

The comments section erupts.

[PossessiveKing: Oof. 'My room is my territory, she belongs in my room.' That is some primal, territorial energy right there. He's been obsessed since high school?]

[SpicyReader: OP is a wolf in sheep's clothing. How has he held back for three years of marriage? We need some action, OP!]

[SusReader: Wait, are you sure she avoided you because she hated you? Maybe she was shy?]

I stop breathing.

I remember that day.

The memory washes over me, vivid and sharp. The golden afternoon light. The terror of the thunder.

And then, Xavier's arms.

For a moment, the world had gone silent. Wrapped in his scentclean laundry and summer windI heard nothing but the deafening thud of our heartbeats.

I had been sick with love for him for years. A rotting, secret infection.

Buried in his chest, I had dared to taste a tiny drop of sweetness. Maybe he cares.

But then, Mercedes had walked in.

Her scream had shattered the moment.

Later, she and Taylor, her minion, had cornered me in the bathroom.

"Vivian," Mercedes had sneered, checking her contour in the reflection of a spoon. "Xavier is my fianc. How can you be so shameless? clinging to him like a lost puppy?"

"He's just being nice to you because he pities you," Taylor added, laughing. "He sees you as a charity case. Don't be delusional."

"Your father keeps a mistress," Mercedes said, her voice dropping to a cruel whisper. "Are you training to be a homewrecker too? Like father, like daughter?"

The words had cut deep.

Nancy, my mother, had spent her life crying over my father's affairs. She had drilled the fear into me. Don't be like those women. Have some dignity.

I pushed Xavier away that day not because I hated him. But because I was terrified of becoming the villain in someone else's story.

I drew a line in the sand. I avoided him. I buried my feelings.

But now... reading this...

I didn't want to let go.

I wanted to keep her there forever.

My heart restarts with a violent kick. My face burns.

I re-read the Reddit thread, scrutinizing every word.

Trembling, I type a reply.

[Vivian_Secret: Has the OP ever talked to his wife? If she dresses up like that at home... do you really think you can keep pretending?]

The reply comes almost instantly.

[DarkShark: I'm afraid she'll leave. I'm a coward.]

[DarkShark: I don't know... if she wears something more tempting... I might not be able to hold back. The beast inside is getting harder to chain.]

I bite my lip until I taste copper.

Okay, Xavier.

If you want to play games, let's play.

I need to know.

Is he faking it?

And more importantly...

Can he really hold back?

Chapter 8

I stand in front of my closet, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.

I push aside the modest, "appropriate" clothes my mother, Nancy, would approve of. I reach for the hidden box at the back.

Inside lies the black lingerie.

Its the one I bought yesterday. The one DarkSharkXavierdescribed on Reddit.

Semi-transparent lace. High-cut sides. A design that leaves nothing to the imagination.

I swore I would return it.

But now?

I bite my lip, staring at my reflection. My body is soft in places the Instagram algorithms say should be flat. Nancy calls it "vulgar." She says my body is a sin waiting to happen.

But if the man on Reddit is Xavier... then he thinks this body is a masterpiece.

I slip the silk over my skin. The black lace contrasts starkly against my pale flesh. It fits like a second skinscandalous, revealing, and utterly terrifying.

I need to know the truth.

I take a deep breath, clutching a silk robe tightly around me, and walk down the hall.

Xaviers routine is clockwork. Workout. Shower. Sleep. He is in his bathroom now.

I knock on the door.

"Xavier?" My voice trembles slightly. "The plumbing in my bathroom is acting up. Can I use yours?"

The sound of running water stops instantly.

"Give me a minute," his deep voice resonates through the wood.

A moment later, the door opens.

Steam billows out, carrying the scent of cedar and musk. Xavier stands there. He is wearing low-slung grey sweatpants and nothing else. The V-lines of his abs disappear into the waistband.

He is breathtaking.

He starts to say something, but then he stops.

His head snaps toward me.

For a split second, I swear his eyesusually unfocused and hazysharpen. They lock onto my face, then drag down my body, even through the robe.

There is a flash of hunger. Raw, predatory hunger.

Then, he blinks, and the mask is back. He turns his head away, staring at the wall.

"Go ahead," he says, his voice strained and gravelly. "I'm finished."

He walks past me, his hand brushing the doorframe for guidance. But his knuckles are white.

I stand in the steam, my heart racing.

He saw me.

I am almost sure of it. But "almost" isn't enough. I need proof. I need him to break.

I splash cold water on my face, but it does nothing to cool the heat in my veins. I untie the robe, letting it hang loose, revealing the black lace underneath.

I walk to his study.

Xavier is sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. He is running his fingers over a Braille book, his dark sunglasses back in place.

"Xavier?" I step into the room.

His fingers pause on the page.

"Vivian?" He doesn't look up. "What do you need?"

"I... I left my earring in here," I lie. "The pearl one."

"Come in," he says. His voice is tight.

I walk around the desk. I stand right next to his chair. I am so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.

I toss a pen from my pocket onto the floor near his feet.

"My mistake," I whisper, my voice dripping with feigned innocence.

I turn so my profile is to him. And then, I bend over.

Slowly.

The black lace stretches over my hips. The sheer fabric offers zero concealment. I am practically serving myself to him on a silver platter.

I watch him through the reflection of the glass cabinet opposite us.

Look at me, Xavier.

He isn't reading the Braille anymore.

His head is turned. Even behind the black lenses, I know. He is staring directly at the curve of my waist, the swell of my chest.

I stay bent over, reaching for the pen, stretching the moment to its breaking point.

Snap.

The sound is like a gunshot in the quiet room.

I flinch and look up.

In Xavier's hand, his expensive Montblanc fountain pena limited edition worth thousandsis snapped clean in half.

Ink bleeds from his fist, staining the pristine pages.

His hand is shaking. Not from weakness, but from the effort of not touching me.

My eyes travel down.

The fabric of his trousers is strained. There is no hiding it. The physiological reaction is undeniable.

He isn't blind.

And he isn't indifferent.

Chapter 9