Unbound (The Braille Club #2) (3 page)

Chapter 4

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: When member bookings were processed an e-mail was generated. The Braille Club software sent the message in a visual Braille format all members must be able to read. They would be asked to respond and confirm their booking by entering their unique code, which would be sent to their mobiles within a certain time limit. Hearts raced and pulses soared as this process was undertaken but once the code was entered into the email their booking was secured.

London 2014

Siena

Siena jumped as the phone in front of her rang. Her mood and breathing erratic, she let the answering machine kick in as Benedict’s voice erupted into the room.

“Siena, are you there? Siena, pick up now so I know you’re okay.”

Not the only one to be frightened, Benedict was no better. He called her several times throughout the day to ensure she was okay; that she was safe. Nick’s legacy lived on in both of them. It controlled their lives on a daily basis and the panic in his voice made her lift the phone. She could hear the frantic quality that would soon border on desperation if she didn’t.

“I’m here,” she gasped.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve fallen and hurt my shoulder,” she said slowly. She was probably going into shock, she thought vaguely. The pain was intense and her nausea was back worse than ever.

“What? Are you okay? Where are the twins?” he asked.

“No, it hurts a lot. The twins are down for a nap.”

“I’m leaving, just sit tight. Siena, I’m going to lose reception, I’ll call you back once I’m on the road.”

Siena’s face was grey and etched in pain. The panic attack had left her weak and unsteady but she knew if she could take pain medication, she would feel better. The phone rang again and she answered.

“I’m putting you on speaker phone, I need to get medication for the pain,” she said quickly.

“Okay, just take it slow. I’ve called Grace to come to the house to look after the twins; you may need to go to the hospital.”

Siena hadn’t even thought that far ahead as she shuffled towards the kitchen cupboard and rummaged around with her good arm for the medication. Finding what she needed, she swallowed them dry, trying not to gag. She didn’t have the energy to get a glass of water.

“Siena?”

“Yes, I’m here,” she replied, her voice shaky; she really wasn’t feeling well now. Her brain was foggy as she slumped down on the chair.

“Speak to me, Siena. What’s happening?” Benedict shouted.

“Feel bad,” she whispered as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Her lids felt like concrete.

“Siena!” Benedict barked. “Eat something. Anything you can get to, just eat it!”

Siena’s eyes fluttered open; yes, she must eat. She swivelled her body around, aiming for the cookie jar, when she remembered she had candy in her pocket. She popped it in her mouth. The sweetness revived her, she felt relief. The monitor crackled to life. The sound of crying filled the kitchen and made her stiffen.

“Siena, do not move, do you hear me? The twins will be fine. I’ll be home soon,” Benedict’s voice boomed.

She sat rigid, listening to the increasingly distressed cries of her babies, her mind clearer now. She heard Benedict groan as he listened to their children’s cries get louder and louder.

“They will be okay, Siena. They are safe in their cot. Please don’t lift them, wait until I get home.”

“Okay, I’ll wait,” she mumbled, already beginning to move.

“Siena? Please, they will be fine. They are safe, you can see them,” Benedict implored. But that was the problem. Siena was looking at the distressed and tear-streaked faces of her babies, and without thinking she was on her feet and moving.

“Siena?” Benedict shouted but she was no longer listening.

The pain medication had kicked in, and the candy gave her the energy she needed to climb the stairs. She panted as she got to the top and stopped, feeling a little dizzy, but it passed. She was calling to the twins now, her voice calming them.

With her good arm, she opened the door and saw two little faces pressed against the cot rungs. She knew she couldn’t lift them up, but she could soothe them. This only worked for a short time—the twins were still tired. Their puzzled faces soon crumpled as they realised Siena would not pick them up. They whimpered at first before crying in earnest. Siena had no choice, she had to lift them. Reaching down with her right arm, she grabbed Leo first and gasped. She couldn’t believe how heavy he felt, and placed him at her feet, his cries turning into howls as she reached for Reeva. Sweat poured from her now. She plopped Reeva on the floor. The twins were now hysterical; they sensed something was wrong with their mother. Siena didn’t know what to do; she sank to the floor. The pain that shot through her shoulder made her yelp and the twins cried harder. They were crawling now, and she called to them using her one arm to guide them as they moved towards her.

As she sat on the floor, her shoulder throbbing, the twins snuggled against her and eventually stopped crying. Siena relaxed and then she remembered the DNA results. Her immediate reaction was to jump up and run downstairs, but she couldn’t. She groaned in frustration and fear. She didn’t want Benedict to find them. She knew she would tell him eventually, but not today. Her stomach churned. She could see where she had left them; in the centre of the island where Benedict would surely find them.

Tears slipped down her face; her heart was breaking. Gradually she became aware the twins had fallen asleep against her body. The crying had tired them, and hope surged through her that she could get downstairs and hide the results. She lifted her good arm and shuffled her body away from the twins. They moved, but didn’t wake.

Ignoring the pain, she leveraged herself against the cot. She could do this; she needed to get those results. Her heart was beating with nervous tension as she agonised what to do. Unable to carry both twins, she had no choice but to put them back in their cot. The thought made her want to scream, but she gritted her teeth and stood. They would be fine; they would cry but they would be fine. She reached down for Leo awkwardly. He woke, raising his arms and hitting her shoulder. She screamed in agony.

“Siena?” Benedict shouted as he came through the front door.

She froze as she heard him—it was too late. He’d stopped outside the kitchen. “Upstairs,” she shouted miserably.

She heard him turn, taking the steps two at a time before bursting into the nursery.

Chapter 5

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The all-important Braille door code would be sent to member’s mobile phones on the night in question. It had to be used within thirty minutes. A second text was generated to members twenty minutes later. This warned they only had ten minutes remaining to access The Braille Reception. They must enter the code on the touch screen check-in. It also had a thirty minute countdown period. If you failed to check-in on time, you didn’t get to stay, which meant you didn’t get to play.

Two Years Earlier

Guy

Guy, shocked and enthralled by his encounter with Anna, craved her constantly. He often travelled to the eighth floor on some pretext or another, but after two weeks without a sighting; he was losing hope. He needn’t have worried; Anna breezed into his office and closed the door.

He just sat there, staring at her in surprise. She looked amazing, her glorious black hair hanging in loose waves down her back. The blush on her cheekbones gave warmth to her creamy skin. Her lips were a deep raspberry, matching the pink tones of her fitted jacket, its lining a contrasting grey. Her tight figure-hugging skirt with the grey snakeskin belt oozed class; the cut of the suit was expensive and no doubt designer. Her long, slim legs were sheathed in sheer silk; the flash of red soles as she turned to close the door announced her grey leather heels were Louboutin. He noticed the way the sexy split at the back of her skirt revealed a little glimpse of her legs. She didn’t walk, she sashayed; her hips swinging seductively as she moved closer to him. Her cool green eyes had a feline quality as she looked at him.

“Well, did you miss me?” she asked, unbuttoning her grey ruffled blouse.

He stared at her stupidly as he realised she wasn’t wearing a bra. He could see her nipples through the thin chiffon fabric. Their gaze locked as her fingers continued to unbutton the blouse. Guy glanced nervously at the door, but became distracted as her breasts were revealed. They were full and firm on her frame, creamy white with hard pink buds.

He sat transfixed as her hands slowly cupped them and she sighed aloud. The sexual tension between them crackled in the air. Anna put her fingers in her mouth. She rubbed them around first one nipple, then the other, before buttoning up her blouse and tucking it neatly into her skirt. Her hardened, wet nipples clung suggestively to the fabric.

Closing her suit jacket, she zipped it up and then smoothed her skirt. It was over in minutes and still Guy remained silent. She approached him, coming around his desk, and dropped her hand into his lap and squeezed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” She laughed.

Fully aroused, his body jerked at the contact, but she was back around the desk before he had time to move. Breathing heavily, he stood, his eyes hooded.

“Impressive.” Anna nodded at his crotch. “You better sit down.” She eyed the office door. “Does it lock?”

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Good, this won’t take long,” she breathed and quickly turned the lock. As she walked towards him, she started to inch up her raspberry skirt until he could see the top of her silk stockings. His heart hammered in his chest as his body twitched in response; God, he wanted her. She came around the desk and pushed him back in his seat. Sitting directly in front of him, she pulled her skirt higher and opened her legs. He gasped at her nakedness but this time he didn’t hesitate. Undoing his trousers, he thrust into her, hard. Again she was so wet, he cried out in surprise, and her hand pressed over his mouth. The fear of interruption and discovery made the sex explosive as he hammered into her, his climax shuddering through him minutes later.

Anna pushed him off roughly, pulling a small packet of wet wipes from her pocket. She gave him some, and he felt awkward as he turned away to clean himself before throwing the wipes in the bin. His brain was scrambled and he noticed absently his hands were shaking.

“Clean me,” she demanded.

He groaned, glancing at the door. Had they been heard? Intoxicated, he took the wipes. He looked into Anna’s eyes, and she stared boldly back as he cleaned her. It was the most erotic thing he had ever done. He couldn’t help himself as he slipped his thumb inside. Anna neither reacted nor flinched.

His eyes never left hers as his hands stroked her. It took some time to find the sensitive areas that mattered to her, but when he did he saw her pupils dilate. It was all he needed; he worked her until they were both panting and she was dripping wet. He turned her around and pushed her over his desk. With all reason gone, the sight of her tight cream buttocks had him slamming into her, this time he was more in control but still he climaxed quickly. He withdrew, pulling her skirt down quickly as some instinct told him someone was approaching. Rearranging his clothes, he sprang to the door, unlocking it just as the handle turned.

His colleague pushed it open and paused, sniffing the air. “Oh sorry, Guy, I didn’t realise you had a meeting,” he said, hesitating.

“No problem, Gary, I was just showing Anna out…what do you need?”

Anna blinked as he dismissed her, and by the look on her face she didn’t like it one bit.

Chapter 6

The Braille Club, London, One Year On: The Braille Key would also evolve to replace the membership card. It would be used throughout Harrison’s, eliminating the need for Braille members to keep their keys hidden. All member profiles were now stored on their keys. Multi-functional, they opened lockers and automatically recorded gym workouts. They stored credits for in-club transactions and allowed members access to pre-booked classes. There was only one small difference: Braille members had their own unique key ring concealed inside the key itself. Only their thumbprint could unlock the cover, which slid back to reveal the buckle design and ribbon unchanged. Like any classic, it was simple but timeless.

London 2014

Niven

When Niven Fraser entered Guy’s office, he was looking at his computer screen. She sat down and he smiled at her distractedly. His phone rang and he looked annoyed as he picked it up.

“I’m so sorry, Niven, but I have to take this. Will you excuse me?” He gave her an apologetic smile as he turned away.

Niven nodded as she watched him leave the room. His lack of attention threw her. Wherever Niven went, people stared at her. They stared at her face and body until, she thought, they could see into her soul. Recently she’d had the sensation of being watched—that she was never completely alone. Even in her home she felt it. The Braille Club was her chance to be treated like anyone else, to close
her
eyes, and become
unknown
. As soon as she entered the reception, she felt safe, the feeling of being watched disappearing. She let her thoughts drift as she waited.

Abandoned in a hospital as a baby, she had been headline news. They had found her in a cheap pram with a Bible nestled beside her. The media had covered the story, appealing for her mother to come forward as she went into foster care. That’s how her adoptive parents found her. Her mother Clarisse spotted the article in the papers and initiated a visit before eventually proceeding with the adoption. She claimed even as a baby, she could see Niven’s potential, and maybe she was right. A model herself, perhaps Clarisse saw something in her baby picture that others missed. Her adoptive father Craig was a photographer. A glamourous work-focused couple, they were not the normal type to adopt. Niven would find out later why they did.

A few weeks after her adoption, Niven had her first modelling assignment. Everyone on the shoot was enchanted by her angelic face. She would become the most photographed baby of her time. She moved effortlessly into child modelling, very much in demand. It was not until her transition into fashion modelling that she drew real attention.

Her eyes, they claimed, were simply remarkable. They called her the Mona Lisa of the model industry; it’s what she did naturally, her gaze following the camera but the effect in print was startling and her rise through the industry had been meteoric.

Niven’s earliest memory was of her au pair Claudia, kind and loving. She hadn’t lasted long under Clarisse’s tutelage. Her adoptive mother didn’t like any display of emotion or staff getting too close to Niven. There were no hugs and kisses in Clarisse’s world and she ensured the same set of rules applied to her daughter, her thought process being her daughter would be better off without kindness. Kindness didn’t get you anywhere in life, especially in her industry. Niven had to be tough, had to be cold if she wanted to get to the top. No, it was better this way—at least Niven would be prepared.

Helen came after Claudia. Niven liked her. She was bubbly, often meeting up with other au pairs and their charges. Meredith was her closest friend, and Niven remembered overhearing their conversation one day at the house, where they sat having coffee.

“It’s got to the stage I actually hate her,” said Helen vehemently to Meredith.

Her friend gasped in surprise. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”

“I’m sick of her constant jealousy and interference. I want to quit. Every instinct I’ve got tells me that woman is unstable when it comes to the care of her child. She’s not hurting Niven physically, but mentally, the damage could be irreparable if something isn’t done soon,” she said angrily. “I loved Niven as soon as I saw her, but I was appalled by the cold and emotionless environment she lived in.”

Meredith clucked in sympathy. “That poor girl.”

***

Helen

Helen looked at Meredith as if for the first time. Her only way of helping Niven was to get her friend involved. She knew she was not the right person for the job. She was too hot headed, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised her friend was perfect. Meredith had gone through a terrible breakup and had dropped out of her nursing course in New Zealand. She’d told Helen her instinct was to distance herself from the pain, and London fit the bill. Her emotions shattered, she needed time out to reassess her life and signed to be an au pair on impulse. She listened, appalled by Helen’s story, but agreed immediately to her idea. Helen quit, telling Clarisse she was moving abroad with another family. Enraged, Clarisse had no option but to look for another au pair. Meredith applied for the job. Coached by Helen, she didn’t smile or enthuse about herself in any way; her approach was cold, focused and professional. She got the job.

***

Meredith

When she met Niven she smiled encouragingly but got little response from the child. Niven must have learned quickly the people in her life left without warning and forming attachments was something she couldn’t afford. Things changed dramatically for Meredith when Clarisse became the face of a major skin care company. Meredith thought she had a cold beauty. Her natural blonde hair framed clear eyes and a classic nose. Perfect white teeth, radiant skin, and a tall willowy frame meant she was never short of work. Clarisse worked mainly for the health and medical industry. She was always in demand, her natural flawless beauty the image they strived for. Meredith assumed the clever makeup artists supplied the warmth she lacked. But this time Clarisse hit the jackpot; it’s what changed everything in the long run. Clarisse’s career took over, and she was rarely at home. Meredith worked hard with Niven and eventually won her over, becoming Niven’s only emotional constant over the next few years.

She stayed on much longer than she intended. She knew how much Niven needed her, but her own life had changed. She had met and married the man of her dreams and it was no longer possible to live in, but somehow with other help, they managed. When she unexpectedly fell pregnant, she knew she must look for a replacement. She made an excellent choice in Maria, who was also prepared to live in.

***

Niven

Niven and Maria soon forged a strong bond, and they both continued to see Meredith secretly. This small semblance of normality became a buffer for Niven. She was a bright student but in her heart she knew modelling was her quickest ticket away from her parents. She would have liked to attend University, but knew that would make her dependant on them, for longer. Niven worked hard, she secured a modelling agency, and by 17 she was making real money and independence beckoned. She knew of her adoption; her mother had no qualms telling her on an almost daily basis. Clarisse was considered a celebrity amongst her circle of friends. She had achieved the ultimate prize, a beautiful child with none of the drawbacks of pregnancy and birth.

They thought her so brave taking on this unknown quantity but she had triumphed. Personally Clarisse had never wanted a child—she only wanted to fit in. Niven had been her ultimate accessory. Normally on the outside, Clarisse was invited in because of her daughter. How ironic Niven would feel exactly the same.

By the age of 18, Niven was the hottest property in the industry and everyone wanted a piece of her. In charge of her own finances, at last she had options. She’d often caught her adoptive father staring at her, they weren’t close and he made her feel uncomfortable. Scrutiny would be her cross to bear. She stared at her reflection and wondered what they saw that she didn’t. She had jokingly asked a photographer what he saw when he looked at her. He gazed at her intently, making her blush before lifting his camera and looking through the lens.

“I see long thick glossy hair that falls in soft waves from a widow’s peak,” he began. “The colour is rich dark chocolate. I see an oval face with perfect symmetry.”

“Oh, stop,” said Niven, squirming with embarrassment, but he ignored her.

“I see flawless skin the colour of honey. Eyes like dark pools of ink, their navy hue almost black. The sharp angles of your cheekbones are the perfect contrast to the soft curve of your lips. When photographed you are simply…exceptional,” he finished.

Niven stared at him in disbelief, her mouth hanging open.

“Everything I said is true, Niven. You need to believe in yourself,” he said softly.

The look on his face made her nervous—she didn’t like it. She didn’t like the way he had moved closer. When he brushed her hair back from her shoulders, she shuddered. He bent his head and in the next moment she shoved him back, running from the room, heart beating wildly. He’d just shrugged and laughed. There were plenty more models he could chase but Niven sensed she’d had a lucky escape.

She’d known then, without a shadow of a doubt, her face and body were her ticket to freedom. She couldn’t wait to leave her adoptive parents’ home. Two weeks before her twenty-first birthday she moved out. She took only her clothes, but it was while rummaging through her things that she came across an old Bible. She opened it and gasped as she read the inscription, not understanding the language but recognising the word:

Mama

Consumed, she had not rested until she had it translated. It read:

To Alina,

I pass this book to you as my mother did before me. May it give you strength when you need it most.

Mother

Then pasted below, a verse.

Footsteps in the Sand
.

She knew every verse by heart, and the Bible became her most sacred possession. It gave her the strength she needed to rent a flat and cut all ties. It took her mother a week to notice she had gone. Clarisse had assumed she was on a shoot because that’s what Niven led her to believe. When she found her wardrobe empty, she’d been furious—not because her daughter had moved out, but because Clarisse had organised a huge party at the house for Niven’s twenty-first birthday.

Niven ignored her calls to her mobile, deleting her ever increasing voicemails unheard. Celebrating her birthday quietly with a few friends, she had taken the precaution of giving her agency a P.O. Box address. She didn’t want her adoptive parents to know where she lived. Legally and financially independent, nothing would induce her to return to that house. But her mother tracked her down, storming onto a set, her usual control forgotten. People stared open mouthed as she slapped Niven hard across the face. As she screamed abuse, it was several minutes before Niven was rescued by the set producer. Clarisse was led away while Niven, shaken to her core, recited the verses of the prayer in her head. She used it to calm herself, like people used worry beads. Niven recovered and grew stronger as she put the past and her adoptive parents behind her. However, recently she’d felt uneasy, like she was being watched…like she was never alone. Her thoughts were interrupted when the door reopened and Guy Walker strode into the room.