Enthrall Secrets (ENTHRALL SESSIONS 7)

by Vanessa Fewings

  “Your therapist failed to cure your erectile dysfunction, Mr. Neilson. Apparently, every form of therapy you’ve sought out has resulted in failure. You’ve given up. Luckily for you your subconscious mind is still in the game. It brought you here.”

  He threw me an angry look.

  I pressed my hand to my chest in sincerity. “Please, we can help you.”

  Ethan gripped the armrests. “If you’re referring to me not responding to a prostitute during my time in that sordid playpen, you’re mistaken.”

  “How dare you,” I snapped.

  “Scarlet.” Cameron raised his hand to silence me. “This is his weak attempt to elicit an emotional response.”

  He was right, of course, and I needed to remember not to respond with a kneejerk reaction. Cameron could have rolled off my qualifications to Ethan and told him I was, in fact, a Harvard grad with honors, but he wanted to protect me.

  “Ethan, why did you come here?” I asked. “You could have sent someone else.”

  “Scarlet’s made a very good point,” said Cameron. “Why not just send an undercover officer?”

  He shot to his feet. “You can’t manipulate me. Or blackmail me. What I went through with my wife is nobody’s business. If you think I want to spend one more second in this shithole then you might want to read those—” He pointed to the bookshelf. “You are way off base if you believe you can play games with me.”

  “Here’s what I’m offering,” said Cameron. “I’ll waive the membership fee of a quarter million, which you’d never be able to afford on your salary as a D.A., and I’ll personally take you on as a client. Let’s get your dick back in action.”

  Ethan was stunned into silence.

  And so was I. My heart raced as I tried to figure out how we were going to correct this error of judgment.

  Ethan glared at Cameron, then turned on his heel and stormed toward the door.

  I jumped to my feet. “Ethan, please. Wait!”

  He slammed the door behind him.

  My gaze fell on Cameron.

  He smiled up at me. “Well, that went better than expected.”

  Chapter 4

  MY ONLY OPTION was to go rogue.

  I pulled into the parking space outside the District Attorney’s office, here on Temple Street in downtown L.A., and reassured myself that I was the best person to handle this mess. Ethan and I had connected in that dark dungeon - I knew this in the depths of my soul. His passionate kiss had proved it way more than words ever could. He’d crushed his lips to mine in what had felt like a desperate yearning, and what followed had revealed an unmatched craving for both of us. I’d seen evidence of this in his eyes, even as he’d verbally challenged me.

  I recognized that spark of obsession.

  A hint of what could be.

  This plan to come show up uninvited was either a stroke of genius on my part or I was unwittingly breaking the law. I was going to talk my way into Ethan’s office and beg him to see what Chrysalis really was - not the sordid club he believed it to be, but a thing of beauty, of healing. It was a sanctuary, a place I considered my second home. Our clinic had saved so many people who would have otherwise fallen by the wayside.

  Though Cameron would hate me for it, I was going to offer my sincere apology for his behavior, too. He’d gone too far this time. His brilliance needed reigning in.

  I’d dressed conservatively. Hell, I’d put on jeans and a sweater and gone all cute with my hair in a ponytail to add to this girl-next-door look. I even wore my favorite Ugg boots, which held off the chill of the late afternoon.

  I looked up and saw Ethan strolling across the parking lot. I shoved my keys back into the ignition and tracked him until he climbed into a Toyota Land Cruiser.

  Shit, I’d missed him.

  He was quite possibly heading home for the day. After that grueling sparring session with Cameron this morning he’d no doubt had his fill of stress.

  I knew it was wrong to stalk him. Wrong in so many ways.

  And Cameron would never need to know.

  I hit the gas and my Lexus took off after Ethan’s Cruiser. Keeping my distance, I followed him out of the car park and tailed him through traffic - all the way to Sherman Oaks.

  We drove along Ventura and up Knobhill Drive, and I mused darkly that the name of the road was strangely appropriate for the bastard.

  He pulled into a short driveway and parked. Staying in my car a little way down from what looked like his house, I ran through all the possible scenarios of how he’d react to seeing me again. The only way this would work was if he gave me a few minutes to explain. At least my way was gentler than Cameron’s.

  Speaking of Mr. Bossy, his ringtone blared from my iPhone.

  I pressed it to my ear. “Hey, I’ll be right back. I’m running a few errands.”

  Cameron scoffed. “What are you up to?”

  “How do you know I’m up to something?”

  “You don’t do errands. You have your subs do them.”

  I’d learned long ago that lying to Cameron was a bad idea. “Look, I know I can salvage this. It was my fault Ethan got into Chrysalis. I’m putting this right.”

  “Are you at his office?”

  “No.”

  He paused for a second. “I don’t doubt your negotiation skills, but he’s a loose cannon. You need to let me handle him.”

  “I graduated with honors from Harvard too, Cameron.”

  “One word, or should I say country.”

  “No you don’t.” I was twenty back then, for goodness sake.

  “Still gonna say it. Paris.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “If I did decide to copulate with you, I’d enjoy fucking you. And remember, you would have ended up in dire straits if it wasn’t for me.”

  “We both remember how that little life-altering charade went. It changed me forever.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Your ways are what some would consider to be fucked up.”

  “It’s my pleasure to serve.”

  I scoffed. “I can do this.”

  “During your session with Ethan you sensed something was off, yet you continued. You’re attracted to him. And while I believe you’d make a cute couple, right now that attraction is clouding your judgment.”

  “I see his goodness.”

  “So do I.”

  “I’ve come all this way.”

  “You’re at his house?”

  “At least let me try.”

  “What’s his address?”

  “Sherman Oaks.”

  “Where?”

  “Knob Hill. Nice neighborhood. Oh, there’s a puppy. Oh my God, it’s so cute.” I watched the dog being led away on his leash by a young woman out for a stroll. “It’s a pug.”

  “Scarlet, it’s too soon. Ethan must sleep on our offer. I need him to wake up tomorrow morning having realized subconsciously he has no other choice.”

  “That’s what you got from the way he stormed out of your office?”

  “Visiting Chrysalis was his cry for help, even if he doesn’t know it yet. This information must find its way from the prefrontal lobe to his limbic system—”

  “And then on to his brain stem. I’m familiar with the science.”

  “He’s lonely, Scarlet.”

  “Yes, and these are the kind of clients I’m best with.”

  “Don’t go in.”

  “I can make him see sense, Cam.”

  “I’m coming over there to get you.”

  I ended the call and dropped my phone in my handbag, shoving it under the seat. Then I got out of my car and locked it.

  I made my way up to what I assumed was Ethan’s driveway, passing his Land Cruiser parked out front. I admired the modest home set back from the street. This was actually a nice location with a quick walk down to the boulevard. Though in L.A. traffic, the commute might be quite an ordeal unless he left extra early.

  The front gate was open, which led me to
think he didn’t have a dog. The front door was open, too. I wondered if he’d noticed me following him and this was a warning that he knew I was here. A power play, perhaps.

  I stepped to the side of the door and peered through the window, cupping my hand against the glare of the late afternoon sun in order to peer into his lounge. Cozy rugs complemented the polished hardwood floors. A curved wall divider separated this room from a hall. His furniture appeared new and had a natural look. The light wood and plush cushions were evidence of a woman’s touch.

  My heart ached for him even after everything.

  The psychological damage of seeing his wife murdered would last a lifetime. Our Ethan was a complex man and this event had no doubt affected him in a myriad of ways.

  Unfortunately for us, he’d gone on a superhero bender that had no end in sight.

  I sucked in a long breath, trying to feel confident, and went on in.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Ethan came round the corner carrying a glass of amber liquor, ice clinking. He’d removed his jacket and tie and his white shirt was hanging casually over his pants.

  His eyebrows rose in surprise.

  I stepped closer. “I was hoping we could talk?”

  “How did you get in?”

  “The door was open.”

  He looked annoyed. “Yeah, right. I’m respectfully asking you to leave.” He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his Smartphone. “This is a serious mistake, Scarlet. You know better.”

  “Your gate was open, too.”

  “No, it wasn’t.” His thumb brushed along his screen. “I’m calling the police. I suggest you leave.”

  “I just wanted to say how sorry I am. We should have treated you with respect. No matter what happens, please say you’ll forgive us.”

  “I know you like handcuffs. So this shouldn’t be too much of a stretch—”

  “At least let me finish speaking!”

  He lowered his phone.

  I gave a nod of thanks. “What happened to you was terrible. Worse than terrible. I’m so sorry, Ethan, because I know you’re a good man. You stand for justice, for human rights. I know that your first impression of us was negative, but we’re good people, too. Clients come to us after all hope is lost, with all sorts of conditions. Yes, we party at Chrysalis because we’re also a community of individuals who care deeply for one another. Cameron really does believe he can help you.”

  “Finished?”

  Instead of answering, I gave him a pleading look.

  “Good, now get the fuck out.”

  His hateful glare made me avert my eyes.

  “Please,” I said.

  “I’m not averse to physically escorting you outside.” He lowered his gaze. “If I have to.”

  I turned to leave.

  The mirror behind him shattered.

  I flinched as his drink exploded in his hand, liquor splattering his shirt, shards of glass scattering across the room.

  In the chaos, I followed his lead and dropped to the floor, my shoulders hunched and my hand up to protect my face from any more flying debris as I crawled behind him toward the arched wall. Ethan reached over and grabbed the back of my collar, dragging me alongside him down a hallway.

  I gasped for air, fear nearly paralyzing my lungs. Some fucker was using a silencer.

  Dust rained down on us as the ceiling fan came unhinged. It crashed down, knocking Ethan forward as he tried to shield me. It struck his back, shoving him headfirst into the wall and cracking his skull against the brick.

  He slipped to the floor - out cold.

  “Jesus.” I stared down at him, at the trail of blood trickling from his brow.

  I scrambled to lift his ankles and then dragged him backwards down the hallway, my breathing ragged and my heart pounding with the strain. He was slim but he still weighed a ton. His blood left a trail on the hardwood floor behind us.

  I’m not fucking dying in this house.

  A sob of terror caught in my throat.

  I kicked open the first door I came to and dragged Ethan inside the room. Then I slammed and locked the door, and flipped on the overhead light. When I saw the desktop computer and a bookshelf chock-full of law books, I realized we were in his office. A green Hulk figurine sat atop a stack of old comics.

  I fell to my knees and rolled Ethan onto his side. Then I ran over to the phone on his desk and lifted the receiver.

  The line was dead.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I’d left my phone in the car.

  The bulb flickered and went out. The only light now was flooding in from the full moon.

  On all fours I felt my way back to Ethan. “Wake up.” I shook him hard.

  Something slammed against the door so fiercely it caused the wood to crack.

  “Ethan, please,” I begged.

  The words Cameron had spoken found me in the dark. “I’m coming to get you.”

  Chapter 5

  Harvard Years

  “I’M COMING TO get you,” snapped Cameron. “Where the hell are you, Scarlet?”

  “I’m ready for this.” I rubbed my jetlagged eyes. “You have to trust my judgment.”

  “You’re not going to Le Maison de Plaisir. We’ve been over this.”

  “Too late.” I leaned against the wall, next to the phone. “I’m already here.”

  “Paris?”

  “Just landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport.” Turning, I glanced at the line of cars to see if my Rolls Royce limousine had arrived.

  The moon looked majestic in the starlit sky, and I felt as though it welcomed me. Visiting this exhilarating city was like a dream come true. And I was so proud of myself for having taken this leap of faith.

  A recent downpour had left pools of water sparkling on the pavement; the scent of fresh rain lingered. Car horns blared - the hustle and bustle of travelers coming and going, their fashion so elegant, so chic. I regretted wearing my worn jeans and short jacket. At least I’d prepared for the chill by donning my woolen scarf.

  Anticipation curled in my chest. This felt so right.

  At twenty, I couldn’t drink at home but halfway across the world I’d be knocking back Cointreau and cocktails as much as I liked.

  Cameron sighed heavily. “I should have known you were up to no good when you dyed your hair auburn.”

  “Forgive me?”

  “I’m calling Monsieur Francois. He won’t let you in.”

  “Okay.”

  “Not worried?”

  “I can’t hear you,” I blurted out. “There’s a plane taking off. Hold on.”

  A 747 engine roared overhead.

  The thrill of hearing Master Cole’s domineering tone of voice fired me on. I’d always gotten a kick out of riling him up. Though this was by far the most daring adventure I’d ever embarked on, and I’d had some pretty wild weekends with the other subs from D'envoûtement, Cameron’s club in Harvard Square.

  I’d proven I could play the perfect submissive, that I’d experienced the best training and served my masters well. I’d loved every luscious moment of being subjugated to the extreme.

  Still, there was that cruel unspoken truth: only a submissive who graduated from the most exclusive house in France was thought worthy enough to serve the society’s elite dominants. If I pleased them I’d earn my promotion. I’d come back a dominatrix.

  Cameron had told me this was a myth, but I knew he was trying to protect me.

  He really did have a way with words, an artful persuasion when changing the subject. Apparently he was being wooed by the Psych Department at Harvard to study psychiatry. They were trying to lure him with compliments that would make any student blush, saying he had a promising career equal to that of Sigmund Freud himself. Cameron was mulling it over, taking it all in stride.

  Like most brilliant men, he hid his kinky side well - more to protect those who came to find solace in his sanctuary.

  He’d also been the one who encouraged me to
apply to study at Harvard, after he’d learned I was waitressing at the city’s most popular bar, despite my G.P.A. of 4.0. Before meeting him, I’d been traveling around the States with no real direction. Seeing my potential, he’d pulled some strings, which had morphed into a miracle. I was about to become a psychology major, starting my freshman year at Harvard in the fall.

  If I was even still alive by autumn.

  I had set my sights on darker adventures - the self-destructive kind.

  Like giving up and giving in to my death wish.

  And right now my only saving grace was D'envoûtement.

  But I wanted more…

  And I’d asked for a referral to Paris’s illustrious Le Maison de Plaisir. Cameron had refused me. He’d also broken my heart when he’d declined to train me himself. He didn’t think I was ready for him.

  “You’re not prepared for those kinds of extremes,” he’d warned, shutting down my request. “You need to work through some personal issues first. Open up. Let me in.”

  Didn’t he know there was no doorway into my heart? Just a black hole where pain languished - the only respite my time with him.

  But I’d found another way.

  There was always another way.

  While being here I would prove him wrong. I would, without doubt, make my mark on this community. From the highbrow clubs of New York and L.A. to here, my dream destination, I’d prove myself worthy to top with the finest.

  Cameron was one of the most famous of all the doms, his reputation among the best. His talent for the dark arts made him both feared and admired. He’d taught me so much, like how to enter subspace, how to dress as a premier sub with merely a thong and a collar, and he’d even taught me how to cook. One favorite lesson was how to mix up a dirty Martini, extra dry, and then watch with pride as my dom savored it. Oh, and another was learning how to give the best bareback blowjob. Though, much to my annoyance, I wasn’t giving it to Master Cole.

  He’d refused to take me on personally, giving the excuse that I was like a baby sister to him. Despite my frustration, it was the first time in my life I didn’t feel let down or used because of that. But it still didn’t stop me from wanting him.

  My love went so deep I’d do anything for him.

  Except obey.