Chapter Seventeen

As he rolled her over the red carpet and into the air conditioned lobby of the Escala, Mira noticed that because she had been stripped of the ability to see, her other senses were kicking into high gear. The specific scent of the lobby, the chilled marble floors slick with lemon-fresh cleaner, struck her first, then the particular tinge of AC mingling with the distinct scent of lilacs filled her nose. The shape of Nate’s hand, which remained on her shoulder as he rolled her to the elevator banks, held new meaning.

She now understood his precise dimensions the length of his fingers, the width of his palm. And when the elevator arrived with a ding, the sound was sharp and hit her ears in a way she’d never noticed for all her years of having perfect eyesight.

After he rolled her inside, turned her around, and the doors whooshed closed, the way in which the air pressure changed from that one simple action was so apparent that it made her feel strangely alive, as did rising swiftly to the