Red Handed(49)

Cole blind? She couldn’t imagine it. “Just because your father—”

“It’s genetic, but I’d hoped the symptoms would start later in life or not at all.” He stared at the remaining mirrors, bitterness evident in the twist of his lips and the wrinkles around his eyes. “Seems fate had a different design for me. Ariana has confirmed the disease is progressing rapidly now.”

She laid her palm on his cheek. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be in your situation. But it’s not a death warrant. Plenty of people live full lives without sight.”

He turned to her. “You’re right. You don’t know what it’s like,” he said with enough venom to make her flinch. He rose from the floor, his body taut and sweaty, and motioned to the art on the walls. “Without my sight, who am I? I’m a voyeur, Danielle. I stand behind my camera and sit behind my desk of video feeds, just watching. If I don’t have those pleasures, what’s the point?”

Uncomfortable having this conversation without wearing clothes, she snatched her dress off the floor and pulled it over her body. Then, although she was at a loss as to how, she went to try and soothe him. “There’s more to you than the voyeur, and it doesn’t take a pair of working eyes to see it.”

He huffed. “Right. I’m also an artist. A photographer. What kind of pictures can I take when I can’t see the subject? When I can’t manipulate the lights and shadows or play with the colors?”

Pain and sorrow had replaced the bitterness in his eyes, and it finally hit her that Cole considered his loss of sight as an equivalent to death. Everything in his life revolved around his ability to use his sight. If he hadn’t known losing his sight was a possibility, would he still have become a voyeur and a photographer?

She gathered him in her arms and laid her head against his chest. “You can hire an assistant who can help you.”

He sighed into her, resting his chin on top of her head. “What would be the point if I couldn’t enjoy the art with my own eyes?”

She pulled back to peer up at him. “Is that why you took my photographs? For your own enjoyment?”

“No.” He cupped her face in his hands. “I wanted to show you how I see you and prove to you that you’re beautiful.”

“What you proved is that you—the artist—believe I’m beautiful. Would you find me any less beautiful if I gained a hundred pounds or I was disfigured in an accident?”

His thumb stroked her cheekbone. “No, of course not, because your beauty is more than skin deep.”

“And you can’t see that, can you?”

He paused. “No.”

“You’ve taught me so much since I’ve gotten here. Let me return the favor. I’ll show you you’re more than a voyeur.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his neck, sucking and nibbling. “I’ll teach you how to see with your other senses.”

He pulled her away and held her head immobile. “And what do I have left to teach you, my lovely Danielle?”

“Teach me how to please you.”

His grip tightened. “Me? Don’t you mean your soon-to-be fiancé?”

Was he . . . jealous? She wished she could tell him the truth about her relationship with Roman, but if she did, the house of cards she’d built on a foundation of lies would fall apart.

Deflecting, she asked, “Why don’t you want to get married or have kids, Cole? It has nothing to do with Benediction, does it?”

He searched her eyes. “When my grandfather went blind, my grandmother put him in a home. They didn’t know what caused it or that it was genetic.” He relinquished his hold on her as he spoke with a flatness that sent chills down her arms. “My parents married at nineteen. My father had no idea that he’d someday lose his sight as his father had or that he’d pass the disease on to me. My mother didn’t sign up to be a full-time nurse to her husband. I would never put a woman in that position. I’d never have a child knowing I’d possibly condemn him to a life with a disability.”

She thought of her own parents. Would her mother have remained pregnant if her doctor had told her there was a possibility she’d lose her life in the delivery room? Would her father have married her mother if he’d known she would die in childbirth? What sacrifices would they have made for one another if they’d had advanced knowledge of what their future held? She no longer had the ability to ask them, but unlike her, Cole had that luxury.

“Have you ever discussed this with your parents? Do you really think if they knew then what they know now they’d have gone their separate ways?”