[Enthrall Sessions 01.0] Enthrall

by Vanessa Fewings

  “A lover?”

  “You get over a lover.”

  The waiter reappeared and placed our meals in front of us, having memorized who’d ordered what. The server had annoyingly interrupted, and once he headed off I waited for Cameron to continue talking about Richard. He merely leaned back and sipped champagne.

  “Why didn’t you let me order my own dinner?” I said.

  “To let you know who’s in charge.”

  “You know there is such a thing as women’s rights.”

  Cameron turned in his seat to better look at me. “Care to elaborate.”

  “Women have died for the right to speak and for equality.”

  “Can you be more specific?”

  “Suffragettes in the late 19th and 20th century.” I raised my chin high. “Emily Davison.”

  He looked amused. “Are you using as an example a woman who died whilst making a point at the Epsom Derby, trying to throw a banner over King George’s horse in 1913?”

  “Yes.”

  “You probably think the king was riding it.”

  “That’s mean.”

  “How about picking something more topical.” He shrugged. “More twenty-first century.”

  “How about you not being such an ass.”

  “You’re only here to look pretty.” He smirked. “I expect more from my submissive.”

  “I’m not your submissive.”

  “Tonight you are.”

  “I’m Richard’s.” My words stunned me.

  “Well, well,” said Cameron.

  “Well I’m his secretary, which is the same thing.” I rolled my eyes.

  “Trust me, it’s not. Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

  Half-distracted, I glanced down at the table not quite sure why I’d told him that.

  “Did you just glance at your knife?” he said.

  “No.”

  “Yes you did. Please don’t stab me during dinner.” He arched an eyebrow. “And please don’t use a blunt dinner knife.”

  “Have you ever seen a therapist? Other than yourself, I mean?”

  “You’re adorable. I can’t get enough of you.”

  “I have to go to the restroom.” I grabbed my purse and gave his arm a nudge. “Please let me out.”

  He stood, his stare lowered, and I was terrified he’d confiscate my phone.

  “Now would be a good time to call Richard,” he said.

  Relieved I could appease Richard and let him know I was out with Cameron, I eased out. With a polite smile, I strolled past Senator DeLuca, who chatted on his cell in Italian.

  I didn’t want the money now. Somehow the thought of it left a sour taste in my mouth.

  Inside the restroom, I scrolled through my contacts until I’d reached Richard’s number. I speed-dialed and waited for him to answer. My stomach sank when I got his answer service.

  “Hey Richard,” I said, “It’s Mia. I’m in—” Oh shit where was I again?

  “Chez Polidor,” said a woman hidden away in a stall.

  “Thank you,” I called out to her and whispered, “Richard, I’m in this restaurant called Chez Polidor. It’s in West Hollywood. Cameron brought me here. Um…we’re with this client from you know where. His name’s DeLuca—”

  The call dropped.

  “Nooooo…” I re-dialed and failed to get another signal.

  I raised my phone in the air like an idiot, trying to pick up a signal; I was desperate.

  Returning my cell to my bag, I stole a few more seconds to fluff my hair in the mirror. A younger version of me gazed back. I looked ridiculous in ponytails and went to take them out and thought better of it. The last thing I needed was an angry Cameron.

  Back at the table, I waited for him to ease out and allow me to rejoin them. I tried to pretend the senator wasn’t gaping at my legs. They were both eating. I was glad they’d not waited on me. Drawing unwanted attention wasn’t something I was in the mood for.

  Savoring the way the champagne softened the edge, I finished off my glass. Despite there being only a tiny portion of seared Ahi tuna on my plate, it was all I felt for. I glanced over at Cameron’s steak and asparagus, wondering if he’d have to grab a burger on the way home. I felt sure the driver wouldn’t mind.

  The senator motioned to the waiter for him to fill his glass. His attention fell back on me.

  “So you’re from Sicily?” I said.

  The senator looked surprised.

  Cameron’s hand found its way to my thigh again. “How’s your Ahi tuna?” He shot me a subtle glare to shut up.

  “Delicious,” I said. “How’s your steak?”

  He lifted his hand from my thigh and returned it to his fork. “Rare.”

  “Maybe they’ll cook it some more for you?” I said.

  “I like it rare.”

  “Wasn’t the Godfather from Sicily?” I asked.

  Cameron’s ironclad grip shot to my thigh. My breath caught in my throat as his fingers squeezed all the blood from my flesh. When he lifted his hand, my circulation returned and a sudden calmness came over me; a release of all tension…

  “Cameron,” I whispered.

  His hand was back squeezing my thigh. “It’s sir.”

  He was using pain to control me. Master me.

  “Sir,” I uttered through clenched teeth.

  His hand lifted but left this heady fevered flush, a tingling between my thighs, a throbbing in my clit. I let out a long, soft sigh and Cameron gave me one of his mega-watt smiles, seemingly taking delight in making me dizzy and breathless.

  The senator’s envious gaze narrowed on me.

  Cameron beamed him a smile. “Talking of feisty and yet responsive to the lick of a riding crop, how are those race horses of yours?”

  “Profitable.” The senator grinned and took a bite of trout.

  The waiter topped up his glass. When the bottle moved to mine, Cameron placed his hand over the rim. “No more for her, thank you. She has to be up early.” He threw him a now fuck off smile.

  The waiter scurried away with my second glass of champagne still in the bottle.

  I frowned at Cameron and whispered, “Aren’t they meant to leave the champagne by the table?”

  “My permission for you to speak has been withdrawn.” Cameron’s tone was stern as was his glare. “Understand?”

  I shrank back.

  The senator clinked his champagne flute against Cameron’s. “Cole, it’s unlike you to glean such a slow result.” His gaze fell on me. “Let me take it from here.”

  CHAPTER 11

  CAMERON PEERED OVER his champagne glass. “This one belongs to the assistant director.”

  Trying not to gape at that, I sat up straight.

  “Perhaps we can negotiate?” said the senator.

  Cameron placed his knife and fork together on his plate and leaned back, indicating no with a slight shake of his head.

  Senator DeLuca folded his arms. “Surely an exception can be made?”

  Cameron’s grip was back on my thigh, and despite me communicating with all the subconscious skills I could draw on that he could very well snap my bone he didn’t seem to notice.

  “How is your father?” asked Cameron.

  “Good. He sends his regards,” he said. “I’d very much like to make this happen.”

  Cameron went to answer when his gaze caught something across the room. His hand lifted. I did my best not to react to the pain as blood surged back into the tissue Cameron had been cutting off.

  Richard stormed toward us.

  In seconds he appeared at our table looking flustered. He threw a glare at Cameron and blinked several times when he saw me. It felt wonderful to see him.

  “Richard Booth.” The senator rose to greet him. “My old friend.” He patted his arm with affection.

  “Marcello,” said Richard, proffering his hand.

  The senator shook it and leaned over and hugged him. “So glad you could join us.”

  “Actu
ally, I was just passing.”

  Cameron’s face lit up with amusement. “Come join us.”

  “I’m parked illegally.” Richard shrugged. “Sorry, let’s do dinner tomorrow night perhaps.” His glare darted back to me. “Winston’s in the car.”

  “Winston’s his dog,” I told the senator.

  Cameron grinned up at Richard.

  “It’s the heat,” said Richard.

  He really did seem flustered.

  “Winston hates the heat,” he added. “I leave the air-con on for him when I’m not home.”

  I wonder what his bill must be like.

  “Mia,” snapped Richard.

  I rested my knife and fork on my plate.

  “Shall we go over those numbers?” he said.

  “Numbers?” I said, and then realized. “Yes please.”

  “She hasn’t finished her meal,” said Cameron. “You work her too hard.”

  “Maybe not hard enough,” offered the senator.

  Richard gestured to a waiter. “Can we get this to go, please.”

  The server reached over for my plate, quickly removing it.

  I picked up Cameron’s champagne glass and snuck in another sip, throwing him a delighted smile that his game was over.

  Cameron ignored me, keeping his focus on Richard’s reaction, his hand returning to my thigh. He leaned toward Richard, keeping his voice low. “I was sharing with Senator DeLuca the challenge we’re having with taming this one.”

  Richard looked incredulous at him.

  I poked Cameron’s ribs. “I’ll have you know I’m a free spirit.”

  “I’d very much like to help with this,” said the senator. “In fact I insist.”

  Cameron seemingly held back on a chuckle, his grip tightening. Bracing for another agonizing squeeze, I froze.

  “Mia, now, please.” Richard nodded his approval when I rose. “So, I know a great place,” he stuttered. “The Ivy. Lots of celebs. You’ll love it, Marcello. How long are you in town?”

  The senator’s gaze found me again. “A few days.”

  I smiled at him, relieved this debacle was over.

  “Perfect,” said Richard. “We won’t be taking up too much of your visit.” He clicked his fingers. “Mia.”

  Cameron stepped out and I eased past him. Richard blinked several times at the hem of my dress and shot me a disapproving frown. He recovered quickly, gesturing goodbye to the senator and Cameron.

  Richard led me out.

  “What about my food?” I said.

  Richard gave a nod of thanks to the maitre d’ and pulled me out onto the curb. For goodness sake, Cameron had pulled me in here and now Richard pulled me out. I felt like a rag doll.

  “Get in,” snapped Richard, pointing to the open top silver BMW. He slipped several notes to the valet, and from the young man’s expression it must have been a lot. Richard leaped into the driver’s side.

  I settled into the luxurious cream leather seat and offered a thank you to the valet for shutting my door. The car took off and my head jolted back against the headrest.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” said Richard.

  Winston sat on the backseat, happily panting away. Reaching back, I scratched his head and he licked my hand. “Hey Winston.”

  “Seatbelt,” said Richard again.

  I faced the front and pulled the strap round. “I thought you had a Jeep.”

  “Please take your hair out of those ridiculous ponytails.” He threw me a look. “Could your dress be any shorter?” He turned the music on and Pearl Jam’s Just Breathe blared out of the sound system.

  I wondered how much Cameron would hate me if I told on him.

  Richard turned the music down. “Didn’t we have a discussion about you calling me?”

  “Cameron told me there wasn’t time.”

  Richard snapped his head round to look at me. “What do you mean?”

  “When he picked me up. He told me we could call you from the car. He changed his mind.”

  “You should have told me you were having dinner with him.”

  “He just turned up.” I slunk in my seat. “Are you the assistant director?”

  He sped up, taking a corner wide. “Of Enthrall, yes. Why?” Richard threw me a sideways glance.

  Cameron had told the senator whatever it was he wanted belonged to the assistant director. They’d been talking about me, I knew it. Especially since Cameron’s grip tightened on my thigh when he’d spoken those words.

  “Hair, Mia,” said Richard.

  I pulled out each hair tie and clutched them.

  Richard held out his hand and I placed the ties into his palm. He threw them out of the car. Within twenty minutes we were driving along the Pacific Coast Highway.

  “Where are we going?” I said.

  “I’m thinking.”

  “Driving helps you to think?”

  “Quiet helps me think.”

  I slid lower and gazed out at the blur of scenery. To our right the hills rose up into the darkness, and to our left luxury homes overlooked the ocean. Beyond them the sea shimmered beneath the moon. Off in the distance sprawling mountains loomed large, making me wonder what lay on the other side. I hoped Richard wouldn’t leave me stranded somewhere.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to appease him.

  He ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t do it again.”

  I wanted to tell him that Cameron had been very persuasive, bullying me into it really, but thought better of it. Richard’s gaze drifted to my legs and he shook his head in what looked like disbelief.

  “You have double standards,” I broke the silence.

  “Next time you enter a dragon’s lair,” he said, “don’t wear that.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you do as you’re told.” He shoved the car into fifth.

  We drove for what seemed a lifetime. The music was a welcome distraction.

  My instinct not to wear this had been right. I tried to pull it down but there was nothing really to pull down. Now out of the ponytails, my hair was out of control. I twisted it around my hand and held onto it.

  We sped past a sign announcing we were in Point Dume Rivera.

  Richard pulled the car up before a large brass gate and buzzed it open. I wondered who lived here and questioned if they’d mind us visiting so late. A little way up the driveway loomed an elegant Spanish home with a tiled roof, its stucco finish providing a Mediterranean air complimented by the high arching windows, and all of this overlooked by tall, lush palm trees.

  Once parked, we made our way to the front door. Winston trotted beside us. I bent low to pat his head. Gingerly, I followed Richard inside, hoping whoever we were meeting weren’t put off by my slutty attire.

  “Make yourself at home.” Richard threw his car keys onto a side table in the entryway.

  “Is this your place?”

  “Help yourself to a drink. I have to make a quick call.” He made his way across the living room toward a large screen door, unlocked it, and stepped out.

  The low lighting, expensive decor, and soft beige walls leant a colonial style. The room was spacious and yet cozy and the several beautifully carved far eastern pieces of furniture made the place homey. It smelled of fresh air and ocean.

  I followed him, admiring the pool twinkling in the moonlight and the well-tended garden. Even the lighting out here had been well thought out. I wondered if Richard had used an interior designer or if this was his taste.

  I knelt to dip my hand into the water, immersing it in the warmth of the heated pool. Winston nuzzled up beside me and sniffed the water.

  Richard glared at his BlackBerry and screamed into it, “What the fuck, Cameron! What the fucking, fuckerty, fuck!” He threw his phone amongst the bushes. When he turned and saw me, he jolted back and his expression softened. “Well, that took care of that bit of business.”

  I wondered how Cameron might react when he got that message, though after
the pain he’d inflicted on my thigh I couldn’t help but feel gratitude to Richard.

  “You have a pool,” I said, making conversation.

  Richard looked incredulous. “Let’s take you home.”

  “Can I swim?”

  “Sure, how about next week…”

  I unzipped my dress and pulled it up and over my head. The tiny piece of material didn’t take long to extract myself from. “You have a lovely home,” I told him, and threw my dress over the back of a lounger. “Thank you for the dress by the way.”

  “What?” He ran his hand through his hair, his wide-eyed gaze taking in my body. “I’m beginning to sound like you.” His brow furrowed.

  “The dress for the party.”

  “I would never get you anything that short. And what party?”

  “Chrysalis’s.” I knelt and reached for the straps of my shoes. “The one you had me send invites out for. Cameron told me you’ve changed your mind and I can go now.”

  The inviting water glistened in the moonlight. After Cameron had used me as bait to tease a senator, and what with Richard whisking me back to his home without my consent, I deserved this.

  Still wearing my underwear, I dived in. It felt refreshing and I spun around several times, savoring the sensation of floating, treading water, wondering how long Richard’s anger might last.

  He stormed inside.

  Winston stayed, guarding the edge of the pool. The water felt cleansing. Having not swam in what felt like years, the last time being while in college, this felt heavenly. I dived underwater and swam a full length along the bottom.

  When I came up for air, I saw Richard leaning against one of the stone pillars that lined the length of the pool.

  He sipped liquor from a tumbler. “I need a cigarette.”

  “I didn’t know you smoked?” I called up.

  “I don’t.” He downed the rest of the liquor and shook his head, and threw the glass high. It landed amongst the base of one of the palm trees. He neared the far end of the pool, his dark stare locked on me.

  He gave a nod as though some realization had found its way to him. Then he pulled his t-shirt up and over his head and stripped off the rest of his clothes, throwing them onto a lounger.

  I averted my gaze from his nakedness. Those taut muscles revealed how much he worked out. That erection betrayed his lust. He didn’t seem in the least bit fazed about stripping off in front of me. He waded toward me causing the water to slosh around us; the only sound.