Enthrall Climax

by Vanessa Fewings

  “But…he really helps people.”

  “I believe you have Stockholm Syndrome.” He loomed close.

  I arched my neck to look up at his towering height. “No. Cameron—”

  “I want you to know we’ll take good care of you. Give you anything you need. We would of course ask you to sign a confidentially agreement. You must promise not to reveal this trait of Cameron’s. Not to the press, or your friends, and not even to your family.”

  My flesh chilled. “Cameron’s my family.”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and removed an envelope. “Here’s some cash. This way Cameron won’t be able to track your credit card. I’ve booked you into The Manhattan at Times Square Hotel.”

  I set my mug on the table. “Henry, I’m happy. Cameron is my one true love.”

  “He knew exactly what he was doing. I doubt he ever meant for things to go this far.”

  “This far?”

  “Having to marry you.”

  This isn’t happening.

  He was way off. Henry was accusing me of having developed a psychological alliance with Cameron as a survival strategy during my captivity.

  Captivity…

  I tried to see through the fog of these accusations.

  He gestured to my wristwatch. “Take it off.”

  Telling him about the GPS in my Rolex had been a terrible mistake. It had been a private moment shared between us at The Mandarin, during the staff gala. I’d laughed, raising my expensive watch to show him my gift and sharing how endearing I found Cameron’s unconventional way of protecting me. “I won’t.”

  “Don’t make me, Mia.” His eyes told me he was ready to carry out the threat.

  I unclipped the wristband and drew in a sharp breath of fear as I placed it on the coffee table. This was my lifeline.

  “Well done. A car is waiting for you.” Henry held out his hand for me. “Cameron won’t be told where you are. This is for the best.”

  “I need to call him.” I needed to get back to my desk so I could.

  “Security is waiting to escort you out.” He glanced toward the door.

  “I have to get my handbag.” Reaching for a magazine I hugged it to my chest as though that alone could protect me. This clue might be my one chance to let Cameron know what had happened here. I let the Time Magazine slip from my grip and fall by my feet. I kicked it beneath the table.

  Henry didn’t see what I’d done because he was too busy texting. “I’ll have your handbag delivered to your room.”

  “You don’t think I’m good enough is that it?” I spat the words. “Is that what this is?”

  “I’ve always been your advocate. You know that. Yes, this family has been through a lot. We nearly lost this company. And yes, one more scandal and it will be over for Cole Tea. But this is not our problem, it’s yours.”

  “Cameron loves me.”

  “Then why are you in a cubicle hidden away with no one knowing who you are?”

  “I wanted it this way.”

  “He made you believe that.”

  “No, he didn’t. Anyway, I’m moving to his floor.” I pointed in the direction of my cubicle. “Did you see the box?”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “So he could manipulate you even more?

  “Everything I’ve done has been for your family. For Cole Tea.”

  “It’s my time to protect you. Do what’s right for you. Truth is Mia, you’re just too damn nice for people like us.”

  “But my birthday’s next week.” I swallowed hard. “We’re going to Italy.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Please, Henry. I don’t want to go.”

  “A birthday is a good time to start anew.” He gestured to the door. “Let’s make this as painless as possible.”

  THAT MEETING WITH HELETE A week ago at The Belgravia Club had fast-forwarded my plan to blow Mia’s cover. Still, my reasoning was sound—should anyone threaten her here our employees would sound the alarm. I’d have my entire staff aware of her VIP status.

  She’d get over it.

  I strolled out of my office and approached Sue’s desk. “I want to order a bouquet of roses. Twenty-four. Make them red.”

  “I love red roses.”

  “Make that pink. To be delivered to marketing.”

  “Sure.” Sue reached for a post-it note. “Who shall I send them to?”

  “Ms. Mia Lauren.”

  Her gaze rose to meet mine.

  “Write this, ‘I’m excited about your move to my department. I’ll make it as fun and interesting as possible. There’ll be perks.’”

  “Sir, that might be construed as…” She raised her hand. “Not that it’s my place to say.”

  “It’s not. Add ‘I love you, sweetheart.’”

  Her face went pale and I assumed she was running over all her interactions with Mia.

  “Right away, please.”

  The lift pinged and Shay stepped out. He was carrying an envelope.

  He threw a smile at Sue and followed me back into the office. “How’s it going?”

  “It’s going good. How’s your day?”

  “Busy.” He shut the door behind him and came over to lay the envelope on my desk. “Is Mia up here?” He looked back toward where her new office was going to be situated, a corner space that was almost as grand as mine.

  “She’s probably at her cubicle.” I gestured for him to sit. “Why?”

  He gave a shrug and shot off a message to her. “She was in a meeting this morning and didn’t check in with me afterwards.”

  “You have her checking in with you?”

  “Every hour.”

  I ran that through my bastard brain and liked it.

  Shay took the seat in front of my desk. “Here’s that report you asked for on The Dionysus Club.” He read my confusion. “Nadine.”

  “Oh, good.” I was distracted by the thought of Sue ordering the correct flowers after she’d looked dazed. When my attention returned to Shay he was back on his phone.

  “Locate her,” Shay snapped the order to one of his men and shoved his phone away.

  I rounded my desk and sat on the edge. “What did you find on Nadine?”

  “It’s all in there.”

  I opened the file he’d brought in and stared at the photo of the girl with the perfect complexion. She’d been photographed coming out of the club. “Can you summarize?”

  “Her name’s not Nadine. I’ll start there. It’s Omani. She’s eighteen. I know, I know, she looks younger. You were right to be concerned.”

  “Eighteen is still very young for a club like that.”

  “She was born in Somalia and emigrated here on a work visa. Her parents are dead. No previous work history. Her passport is stamped with frequent visits to Paris. Helete’s from there, so that’s no surprise.”

  “How did you look at her passport?”

  “I have a friend in Immigration.” He shrugged. “So, no boyfriend. Seems loyal to Helete.” He sat forward. “The guy who delivered the cake is Helete’s chauffeur.”

  “She didn’t hide that very well.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I want to stop this before it gets out of hand. A cake is one thing. A photo of you and me in a compromising situation is completely different.”

  “Well, she doesn’t need the money. So it’s not blackmail.”

  “True.”

  Shay leaned forward. “What rattled her about my visit? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  I picked up a pen and played with it, letting my subconscious handle this one. “Omani.”

  “Pretty name.”

  “This all started with her.”

  “She is a looker.” He shrugged. “I mean, supermodel material. Maybe Helete’s in love with her.”

  “I think you might be right.”

  “Are we still going to offer her a job?”

  “Go back to the club. Book a massage. Not the happy ending kind.” I smirked at him. “Find out what Omani
wants.” I threw the pen down. “Let’s hear it from her without the pressure of her dominatrixes bearing down on her.”

  “I’m going to have Helete followed. I need to find out what kind of hold she has on Omani.”

  A knock at the door broke our focus.

  “Not now.” I turned back to Shay.

  Henry burst in through the door. My gaze held his and my spine flinched with the memory of him shoving me hard against that squash court wall.

  What the hell did he want now?

  Shay’s gaze was fixed on me in disbelief.

  I gestured to Sue, who was standing at the doorway having followed him in. “A tray of tea, please. Oh, and Sue, why don’t you take off early today. Say, around three.”

  “Really?” She blushed with happiness and hurried out before I could change my mind.

  Henry made himself comfortable on the couch. “What a perfect boss.”

  Shay’s voice softened, “I’ll track down Mia.”

  “Try not to alarm her.”

  “Of course.” Shay headed for the door.

  I pushed up from my seat and walked over to join Henry. “How are you?”

  He stared at me and then his attention fell on Shay as he left. “Alarm Mia?”

  After Henry’s attack, I refused to fill him in on the details. “It’s nothing.”

  “Didn’t look like nothing. Shay and I go way back. Don’t take advantage of his commitment to this family.”

  I sat on the arm of a chair. “Never. So, how are you?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “It’s nice to get a visit from you,” I lied. I couldn’t forget about the bruises he’d left on me.

  My evil side wished he’d stayed in Big Bear.

  His stare held mine. “I’m ready to come back. Maybe take this office.” His gaze roamed the room. “You once told me this would be waiting for me.”

  I had promised him that Dad’s corner office on the highest floor of this high-rise could be his. But that was before I’d sacrificed everything to turn this company around and ensure a smooth transition when Dad left—and way before I’d given myself completely to this place for months, being the catalyst that caused the business to skyrocket to success.

  My back stiffened. “Why now?”

  He narrowed his gaze on me and it looked like an accusation. “Why not?”

  I slid down onto the chair and rested my feet on the coffee table. “In what capacity?”

  “CEO, of course.”

  I’D ARRIVED AT THE MANHATTAN at Times Square Hotel, with two bodyguards accompanying me.

  My stomach twisted from the stress of it all and I had to concentrate on not throwing up in front of the other guests who passed us with a cursory glance. This place was a maze. So many turns this way and that until I had lost all sense of direction.

  From the way I was led through the sprawling hallways, I knew this had been pre-planned by Henry. They had a keycard all ready for Room 617.

  “I need you to call my boyfriend,” I pleaded.

  “Keep your voice down,” snapped the one who’d introduced himself as Barret, his Cockney accent causing my arms to prickle.

  Inside the room, I spun around to get my bearings. There was a plush couch I’d never sit on and a corner writing desk I’d never use. The windows overlooked Times Square. Down there, people were having fun. Down there, people were free to come and go.

  “Help yourself to the mini-bar.” Barret pointed to a cupboard. “If you want anything, just ask.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Okay, sure,” he said, following his friend to the door. “Once this is all sorted out.” He closed the door behind him.

  I knew Henry had my best interests at heart. On the surface my relationship looked complicated, but it was everything I’d been afraid to dream of having. Cameron was all I wanted, all I needed. I could hardly breathe knowing how panicked he’d be.

  Peering through the peephole in the door, I saw Barret standing guard.

  I hurried over to the phone on the writing desk, my adrenaline spiking as I picked up the receiver.

  There was no dial tone. They’d disconnected it. Though I didn’t care about ordering room service, I needed to get a message to Cameron or Shay to let them know what was going on.

  I pulled open the door. “Can you please call someone for me?”

  He gave me a sympathetic smile. “There’s to be no calls, Miss.”

  “People will worry. You don’t want the police involved do you? It will be better for you in the long run.”

  He crooked his neck. “Go back in the room.”

  Several hours later, cabin fever had set in and I couldn’t stand to watch one more second of TV. I’d paced back and forth so many times I knew there were snacks in the other room, a coffeemaker that looked like you needed a PhD to use it, and enough alcohol to help the hours pass if I gave up.

  I got the bright idea of convincing my prison keepers to buy me a bathing suit from one of the hotel stores so I could go for a swim. But they’d chosen the wrong size. My bathing suit pinched around my thighs a little, but I didn’t care. I’d studied the hotel brochure and read they had a bar at the pool. That meant they had a phone.

  All I had to do was wait for one of them to be distracted.

  The area had a welcoming vibe, with a large swimming pool and a bar tucked away in the corner. Guests were grabbing drinks and relaxing on colorful loungers positioned all around the pool. Barret sat on one of them and watched me like a hawk with no shame.

  The water felt warm and refreshing. After completing three laps, I went for it—lifting myself out at the deep end and trotting over to the bar with the kind of nonchalance I hoped wouldn’t draw attention.

  “What can I get you?” The spiked-haired bartender asked me.

  “I need to use your phone, please?”

  “Sure.” He glanced over my shoulder and I turned to see Barret making headway toward me.

  I looked back at the bartender, my expression tense. “I’m in a huge hurry,” I said.

  “Sure.”

  He pushed the phone within reach and I grabbed the receiver, dialing quickly.

  “Cole.” Cameron’s voice sent a shiver of hope through me.

  I drew in a breath to speak, and a hand grabbed the receiver and slammed it down, ending the call. I turned to see Barret glaring at me with disapproval.

  “I’ll order food for you,” he said, plainly for the barman’s sake.

  “Hey, I can do that.” The barman smiled at us both. “You go relax. I’ll come over with the menus.”

  Barret’s fingers wrapped around my arm and he led me away. Of course, I could have made a scene, screamed that I was being held against my will, but what kind of trouble would Henry be in if that came out? It would be a potential scandal and I knew Cameron would want me to remain calm.

  All those times I had evaded his security, I really had been naïve. But never had I suspected the threat would come from inside the Cole family. Although Henry had suffered from PTSD, he’d never displayed any symptoms of mental illness before and I chose to believe he was merely trying to protect me.

  Then I saw her…

  Walking in with several other well-dressed women was Helete Merrill, the stunning French brunette whose husband had been the catalyst for both me and Cameron fleeing the States. She wasn’t dressed for lounging, though, so I had to grab my chance.

  “I’m going to swim again,” I told Barret.

  He held my gaze. “If you speak to anyone you’re going to be staying in that room indefinitely.” He leaned forward to make his point.

  I rested my hands on my hips. “I know.”

  His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll be watching.”

  It was hard to hate Henry, but right now I wanted to kick him in the balls. I rounded the pool and then made a beeline toward the corner.

  “Helete!”

  I caught her attention, as well as the other two elegant-l
ooking women with her. They all looked my way.

  “It’s me, Mia.”

  “Oh, hello.” She smiled. “This is Annette White and Terri Banfield. I’m considering buying this hotel. What do you think?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. “This is Mia Lauren, Cameron Cole’s fiancée.”

  From their impressed reactions I knew that they’d heard of him.

  Arms came around my waist and gripped me tightly. I didn’t need to look to see it was Barret. “Tell Cameron I’m here.”

  Helete’s frown deepened as she watched Barret leading me out of the pool area. Surely she could see how upset I was?

  Glancing back, my heart skipped a beat when I saw Helete raising her phone to her ear. She was calling Cameron. I just knew it.

  STEALING SOME PRIVATE TIME IN the Cole Tower gym, which was tucked away in the basement, I pounded the treadmill, staring at my fixed expression in the mirror. I had Oasis blaring from my ear buds, singing “Don’t Look Back in Anger,” and I briefly mused over what a shame it was that those two feuding Gallagher brothers couldn’t give us another album.

  Brothers…such a special bond and one I had never taken for granted, even as a child. It had been Henry who had watched over me when I’d turned up at our private boarding school with nothing but a suitcase and a head full of fear. Even at five years old I’d had a sense of how cruel this world could be. Those moments when I’d pass Henry in the hallway or searched him out in the library, I was assured of his caring nature, his patience and his wisdom. We’d always been close, so close that when he’d been captured in Afghanistan I’d flown around the world to help rescue him.

  Those days would haunt me, mainly for the fact I’d spent hours trying to extract intelligence from him after his rescue—the kind of Intel needed to sway an attack on American soil. It had been Henry’s recent recovery that had soothed my guilt and given me the courage to reconnect on an emotional level.

  Yet someone had fractured that bond. It pained me that it had become fragile again.

  It had been Mia who had coaxed Henry out of hiding and now he was ready to take on the world. Our desire to serve had been developed at a young age.

  I punched a button on the panel and the belt sped up. I sprinted to refocus.

  Mia was my light in the darkness. Every moment away from her felt like an assault on my senses, but I was consoled by the knowledge that she would soon be moving closer.