blind love

The rain fell in relentless sheets, blurring the New York skyline into a smudged painting. It matched how Alexis felt—blurred, scattered, uncertain. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel of her aging Honda Civic as she navigated the slick streets, the wipers screeching across the windshield in a desperate attempt to keep up. She had one goal tonight: make it to her shift at Eden’s Lounge without being late again. One more strike and Tony—the grumpy manager with wandering hands—would fire her without a second thought. And she couldn’t afford that. Not when her rent was due in three days and her sister’s medication cost more than her weekly paycheck. The light turned green. She exhaled in relief and pressed the accelerator, only for a blur of black to shoot through the intersection. Crash. Screeching tires. Shattering glass. A scream—her own—echoing inside her head as her body jerked violently, the seatbelt tightening across her chest. Everything went still in the next moment, save for the pounding of her heart. Alexis blinked through the rain-smeared glass, dazed. The other car was a luxury vehicle, its front now crumpled against the passenger side of her Civic. Her door flung open suddenly, and a furious voice pierced the storm. “What the hell were you thinking?!” She looked up—and for a moment, everything stopped. A tall man loomed over her, rain soaking his expensive suit, fury etched into every line of his chiseled face. His eyes, dark as midnight, locked with hers. Alexis swallowed hard, her breath catching. “I had the green light,” she whispered. He scoffed. “You were texting, weren’t you? Jesus. You could’ve killed me.” “I wasn’t—” she began, but her voice was barely audible over the rain. The man cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his wet hair, revealing a silver watch and a wrist tattoo she couldn't quite make out. He turned to glance at his ruined car, then back at her, his jaw clenching. “I’m calling my lawyer. You’re going to pay for this.” Her stomach dropped. “Wait, please. I— I don’t have insurance. I mean, I do, but it’s— I just—” “Of course you don’t,” he muttered, more to himself than her. “Great. Just my luck.” “I swear I wasn’t texting. I’m not some reckless—” “I don’t have time for this.” He stalked back toward his car, pulled out his phone, and began barking orders. Alexis could only sit there, cold and trembling, watching her life crumble with every passing second. Minutes later, the police arrived. Reports were taken. Her car was towed. And the man—whose name she still didn’t know—disappeared into the night without so much as a glance back. --- Three days later, Alexis stood behind the bar at Eden’s Lounge, trying not to cry as she handed over her tips to her landlord, who had shown up at work to collect. “I’ll have the rest by Friday,” she promised, even though she had no idea how. The man grunted. “If not, you’re out. No more extensions.” As he left, she slumped against the counter, rubbing her temples. “Rough week?” a smooth voice asked from the other side of the bar. Alexis looked up—and her heart dropped. It was him. The man from the accident. But tonight, he looked even more dangerous. Black suit tailored to perfection, a black dress shirt open at the collar, exposing just enough skin to be distracting. He sat casually, like he owned the place. Maybe he did. “What are you doing here?” she asked, too tired to fake politeness. He raised an eyebrow. “That’s how you greet your victims?” “You were the one who ran the red light.” “Allegedly.” He smirked. “Though it seems we’re both in a bit of a mess. Your car’s totaled, and my lawyer says your insurance won’t cover the damage.” “I told you I didn’t mean to—” “You work here?” he interrupted, glancing around. “Figures.” Alexis bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He leaned closer, his tone dropping. “It means I have a proposition.” She crossed her arms. “Unless that proposition is you dropping the charges, I’m not interested.” His smirk deepened. “Not quite. My name’s Ethan Blackwell.” The name hit her like a slap. Blackwell. As in the Blackwell Empire. Billion-dollar businesses. Headlines. Scandals. And the most infuriatingly arrogant man she’d ever met. “I don’t care who you are,” she lied. He chuckled. “Oh, but you should. You owe me. And I always collect debts.” Alexis narrowed her eyes. “What do you want?” He studied her, his gaze unreadable. “I need a date.” She blinked. “A what?” “For a week. Maybe two. My ex is about to marry my business rival, and the media is eating it up. I need to show the world I’ve moved on—preferably with someone...believable.” Her mouth dropped open. “So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” “Yes.” “Are you insane?” “Probably,” he said, without missing a beat. “But I’ll pay. Well. Enough to cover your rent, your car, your sister’s meds. All of it.” She flinched. “How do you know about my sister?” “I do my homework.” Alexis looked away, conflicted. This was insane. Dangerous. Immoral, even. But the mention of her sister made her pause. Emily needed that treatment. Needed her. And Alexis was running out of options. “What’s the catch?” she asked quietly. He smiled, slow and wicked. “No falling in love.” She scoffed. “You think I’d fall for you?” “I’m just covering my bases.” Alexis hesitated, then finally said, “Fine. But I want it in writing. No funny business.” “Of course,” he said, rising from the stool. “My lawyer will send over the contract in the morning. Be ready by six tomorrow. We have a gala to attend.” And just like that, Ethan Blackwell turned and walked out, leaving behind a hurricane in his wake. --- Later that night, Alexis lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Was she really doing this? Pretending to be the girlfriend of a man she should hate? She had no idea what she was walking into. But something told her, whatever it was, it would change everything. --- End of Chapter One