Enthrall

by Vanessa Fewings

  “You get to keep them afterwards.” He waved it off like it was nothing.

  These were the kind of shoes I’d never be able to afford in a lifetime. I was all but drooling, damn it, and from his obvious amusement he could tell.

  “Are you prostituting me out!”

  His laughter filled the room. “No. It’s dinner. Then home.” He held up his hands. “Seriously, Mia.” He shook his head to chastise me.

  “Why can’t you go alone?”

  “Let down the client? Richard would be furious with us.” He gave a nod. “Shall I tell him you refused?”

  “Let me text him.”

  He placed his hand over my handbag to block me.

  “You owe me an apology,” I said.

  “I do?”

  “For taking me into the dungeon. You knew it would make Richard angry. He spanked me for it, for goodness sake.”

  “He did?”

  “You’re best friends. You tell each other everything.”

  “Huh.”

  I folded my arms and stood my ground.

  “As far as I could tell you liked it. Besides, you told me in the lift you were intrigued with what went on down there.”

  “With what it looked like. Not what you do down there.”

  “You should have been clearer.”

  I pointed at him. “I know what you do for Chrysalis.”

  He looked impressed.

  “You’re the club’s shrink. You assess people to see if they’re ready to be members.”

  “Impressive. Other than calling me a shrink. Please don’t.”

  He’d turned up the intimidation.

  “I know you personally assessed the Sullivans,” I said. “I don’t think Constance is ready.”

  “If hesitancy is what you observed that’s normal.”

  “She’s terrified.”

  “That’s your professional opinion?”

  “I don’t need a certificate to work that out.” I neared him. “And sometimes you’re wrong.”

  His expression changed to fascination.

  “On my first day at Enthrall,” I said, “I overheard Richard telling someone called Dominic to revoke a client’s membership.”

  “Ah.”

  “So whoever you profiled had to have their membership cancelled.”

  His face softened thoughtfully.

  “Well, what happened there?” I said.

  “I offered a flawless profile. What I had no way of foreseeing was the alcohol they snuck into Chrysalis. When his personal items were searched, a silver flask was discovered.” Cameron shrugged. “Both Enthrall and Chrysalis are dry. Drug free. Everyone is clearly briefed on this. We have booze at the party once a year but that’s a one drink maximum. We’re very strict, in more ways you could ever imagine.”

  “Oh.”

  “Next question?” he said flatly.

  “You shouldn’t have taken me into that dungeon.”

  “That wasn’t a question.”

  “I know you’re smarter than me. But please don’t manipulate me ever again.”

  He narrowed his stare. “Please don’t talk to me like that ever again.”

  I cursed myself for letting him in.

  “Remember, you begged me to help you get your job back,” he said. “Which I did.”

  “I’m still grateful. As well as the car thing.”

  He stepped closer. “What directive did Richard give you on your first day?”

  “Make the clients happy.”

  He glanced at his watch. “The Senator’s arriving at a restaurant in forty-five minutes. You’re making us late.”

  “I’m not sure--”

  “One of Richard’s top clients.”

  And to think I’d planned a nice evening of watching TV, sipping spring water, and maybe even sketching. My gaze drifted to the drawings I’d hidden and hoped Cameron had forgotten he’d seen them.

  “You draw great by the way,” he said. “You have a real talent.”

  Yet again Cameron had reminded me of his laser-sharp perception that Richard had told me about.

  “Name your price.” He shrugged. “Enthrall can afford it.”

  “A thousand dollars.” I rested my hands on my hips, knowing full well he’d scoff.

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  I chewed my lip, wondering if I should have gone higher.

  “Yeah, I see what you’re doing there, Missy. Go get dressed.”

  A thousand dollars. He had to be bluffing.

  “Not unless Richard signs off on it,” I tried again.

  “We’ll call him from the car. That way we won’t lose any more precious time.”

  I squinted at him. “You had time to go shopping.”

  “We actually bought this for you so you can go to the party.”

  “Lotte told me the women wear bodices and stockings.”

  “You have to wear something to the party.” He gave a thin smile. “Richard knows you’re great with clients and that’s why you were the first person we wanted for tonight.” He held up his hands again. “I tried the others to be fair to you. Please hurry up.”

  “Are you sure Richard won’t be annoyed?”

  He gently ripped the tag from the dress. “Trust me, as soon as he hears about our dinner he’ll be right over to join us.”

  Reluctantly I took the dress from him. Feeling his all-seeing eyes following me across the room, I opened the drawer to my dresser and removed a thong as discreetly as possible, as well as a matching bra. Doing my best to hide them from him, I headed into the bathroom.

  Within minutes I’d put on the little black dress, marveling at how Cameron had guessed my size. It fit perfectly, though showed off my curves a little too much. I tried to pull it down but it wouldn’t give. Short dresses were in but this was way more daring than I’d have ever chosen. The shoes slid on easily, and despite being strappy heels they felt comfy. There was no question this outfit had cost Cameron a small fortune.

  After applying some make-up, which didn’t take long as I preferred a natural look, I pulled a brush through my hair and tussled it; blonde curls cascaded over my shoulders and down my back. A dab of soft pink lip gloss and I was ready.

  I took a second to rally my courage. What if Cameron didn’t like the way I looked? Maybe he’d not judged the length of hem right. Vixen versus slut? It was hard to tell having never shopped at Saks. Two deep breaths later and I made an entrance.

  Cameron blinked several times at me.

  “You don’t like it?” I said, though at the same time relieved he might change his mind and not take me now.

  “Okay. Wow,” he said, standing straighter. “You look um...”

  “Too short, isn’t it?” I nodded in reply to my own question.

  “You’re perfect. I mean the dress is perfect.” He grabbed my handbag and thought better of it. “You don’t need that.” He looked addled.

  “I have a clutch purse.” I walked the short distance over to my bedroom cupboard. I found my mini black purse that went great with my dress. Then I headed over to the kitchen counter where Cameron had set down my handbag and withdrew my iPhone, a spare lipstick, and my wallet, placing them all inside the purse. “You’re sure Richard will be fine with this?”

  He nodded, though this time remained silent and merely gestured toward the door, hurrying us both out into the night. He held my hand a little too tight. Cameron led me over to a stretch limousine where a uniformed chauffeur waited.

  “We’re going in that?” I said.

  “Yes,” said Cameron.

  Lorraine would freak out. I went for the door handle and Cameron snapped me back. The chauffer opened the back door for us and I realized my mistake. Inside the car was a bar. Having already embarrassed myself by gushing over our transport, I held back on my excitement.

  The driver threw me a polite smile in the rearview mirror and navigated the car onto Ventura. After passing a few green lights and only one red, we turned onto the
405 and headed south.

  Something so last minute seemed so well planned.

  “Should I have worn stockings?” I whispered, feeling decidedly naked showing off my bare legs.

  “Sorry?” said Cameron.

  “Should I have worn stockings?”

  He gave me the longest glare. “No.”

  His reaction seemed kind of strange.

  He gazed out of his window.

  I wondered how often Cameron treated himself to a chauffeur and how much he cost for the night. Though I imagined this would all be going on Enthrall’s tab. Remembering I was meant to call Richard, I opened my purse and reached for my phone.

  “Not now.” Cameron’s hand rested on mine and he glanced at the driver to make his point.

  “I’ll text him,” I said.

  “At the restaurant.” Cameron returned his attention to the passing scenery.

  I hoped Cameron wouldn’t catch me texting. He leaned over, took my phone off me, eased it back into my purse, and snapped the clasp shut. We drove the rest of the way in silence. I pondered on where we were going and what kind of food they served. Surely if we were going to be entertaining a VIP it would be a high-end restaurant.

  My guess was right. The driver pulled curbside outside Chez Polidor.

  “I’ll do all the talking,” said Cameron. “Enjoy your meal and sip your wine. Think about how you’re going to enjoy your bonus.”

  “I’m doing this as a favor.”

  “Remember who you’re talking to.”

  “Still.”

  “Still,” he said. “Do what I say and when. Understand?”

  This is just dinner, right? I frowned, sensing a shift in his demeanor.

  Gone was the playful, persuasive Cameron from my apartment and in his place was Mr. Domineering. He made me nervous. The driver opened my door and I slid out and quickly joined Cameron on the pavement.

  His hand glided down my spine toward the lower arch of my back and rested there. “Mia, I understand your motivations better than you realize.”

  “My step-mom?”

  “Apparently you’re living in a studio so you can afford to keep her alive.”

  Richard must have shared my personal story. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  Cameron perused the restaurant front glass window. “You’re a very special young lady.” He nudged me back into the doorway, right beneath the awning of the interior design store next door. “When you’re ready to talk about your personal life I’m here for you.”

  “Thank you, Cameron.”

  After all that had happened between us, there came a sense I could trust him. It felt nice to have the softer, kinder Cameron back.

  He made a gesture with his thumb and index finger. “Will you do me one small favor?”

  I narrowed my gaze.

  “Turn around,” he said.

  I twisted my mouth, not sure about this.

  Clutching my shoulders, he eased me around so that my back faced him. “Hold still.” His fingers caressed my scalp, tickling as they went. He parted my hair down the middle, forming two ponytails. I felt him securing each one with a hair band. He’d had them in his pocket this entire time.

  I spun around, my cheeks flushed. “Is your client a pervert?”

  He cringed. “Maybe a tad.”

  I went to pull them out.

  He grabbed my hand and stopped me. “Mia, there’s something you need to know.” He yanked me from under the awning and pulled me toward the restaurant door.

  “What?” I tried to escape his grip.

  “They have the finest veal scallopini and linguini with clam sauce here.” He laughed and opened the door.

  Well-dressed diners chatted away at pristine white clothed tables. Dim lighting bestowed an ambience of decadence. The decor gave the place a homey yet expensive look. Pictures were crammed throughout, heightening the coziness with arty chaos.

  “You’re a bastard,” I whispered, and gave the maitre d’ the sweetest nod.

  Cameron scanned the room. “You flatter me.”

  “Dr. Cole, we’re expecting you, sir,” said the maitre d’. “You’re joining Senator DeLuca?”

  “We are, thank you, Charles,” said Cameron.

  “Ma’am,” said Charles, turning sharp on his heel and leading us off.

  We were guided across the full restaurant, navigating tables and chairs. Staring dead ahead, I didn’t want to catch any critical glances from the other guests or even the waiters. My confidence was already shaky and I didn’t need any encouragement to descend into panic.

  A man rose to greet us. Senator DeLuca, I assumed. He wore the smartest blue pin-striped suit and his bow tie made him look super rich. He beamed at Cameron and reacted with delight when he caught sight of me. He looked around forty-ish and was unexpectedly dashing with his jet-black hair and olive complexion. Though the way he ate me up sent chills down my spine. I cursed Cameron for dressing me so slutty and these ponytails only made things worse.

  This, I’d learned, was a subconscious alarm I should have listened to.

  Why change a habit of a lifetime and listen to my intuition?

  We joined Senator DeLuca in the booth. The high-backed wooden seat gave the illusion of privacy, though the leather padding was at least comfortable on my bare legs. I sat opposite the senator.

  Beside Cameron, I watched him navigate the social pleasantries, introducing us to each other and even ordering a bottle of Dom Perignon with the confidence I’d come to know him for.

  Oh, champagne. This might even be fun.

  Cameron peered at the menu. “For the lady —” He twisted his mouth thoughtfully – “Magret de Canard Sauce Cerises.” He handed the menu to the waiter.

  I prodded his thigh. “I don’t like cherries.”

  “Someone reads French.” Cameron narrowed his gaze. “What other secrets are you keeping from us?”

  “Can I order my own?” I whispered self-consciously.

  Senator DeLuca and the waiter had fixed their attention upon me.

  “Senator?” said Cameron.

  “She’ll have the sesame seared Ahi tuna?” Senator DeLuca told the waiter.

  “Good choice,” said Cameron.

  If the server thought this exchange was odd, he certainly didn’t show it as he scribbled it down. He went on to take Cameron’s order of New York cut sirloin steak with asparagus and Senator DeLuca’s pan seared brook trout.

  The waiter scurried away to the kitchen.

  Not quite sure what had happened there, I resisted the urge to speak up, reminded of when Richard had chosen my ice-cream. These men really had control issues. Still, I wasn’t here to eat but merely follow through on our agreement and make small talk with Cameron’s guest, and make him happy. I hoped this was something I could pull off. There might even be a bonus if Cameron went through on his promise. From all he’d splurged on so far it looked promising. I’d be able to pay off my step-mother’s radiology bill, I thought, reaching for my champagne.

  My bubbly tasted dry and cold and I took what I hoped were several discreet gulps to calm myself. If Cameron so much as hinted more might be expected I’d merely excuse myself, telling him I needed to use the restroom, and bolt. Even if he had bought me these amazing shoes. My plan helped me relax.

  That was until Cameron slid his hand up my dress and along my thigh and rested it there. I glared at him, trying to send a discreet message I wanted him to remove it.

  Cameron ignored me, keeping his focus on Senator DeLuca. “How is your family?”

  “Well, and yours?” he said.

  “All good. I hear our sisters had lunch in New York last month?” said Cameron.

  “Yes. They had fun.”

  “They ate at Vai,” said Cameron.

  “Yes, have you dinned there?”

  “Not yet, but I plan to. Love the Upper West Side.”

  My attention spiked with the intelligence I was gathering on Cameron and I wondered what els
e I’d learn.

  Cameron sensed a shift in my demeanor and his hand slid up farther. I tried to nudge it off but his grip tightened and his thumb caressed. I tried to squirm free but the senator’s scolding glare made me freeze.

  The conversation between them flowed, their casual dialogue revealing a friendship that went way back. This easiness they shared gave away they knew each other well.

  Senator DeLuca’s BlackBerry pinged.

  “I have to get this.” He offered an apology and slipped away.

  Richard had told me off for using my phone at work, and here was our guest using his at dinner. Still, the rich always had concessions, just like the assumed right Cameron seemed to think he had with my thigh. With my thumb and index finger I eased up his pinky, gaining leverage.

  Cameron offered the senator a friendly nod and watched him walk away. He snapped his head round to look at me. “You do realize I’m into pain?”

  I reached for my glass and took a few sips. This would all be a lot more bearable if I got tipsy.

  “Mia, hold your glass by the stem,” said Cameron.

  “Why?”

  He picked up his glass to show me. “Otherwise you warm the champagne.”

  I was devastated to be schooled like this. “He’s probably gone off to arrange a hit on someone.”

  “Stereotyping?” Cameron shot me a look. “Something tells me you’re quite the expert.”

  Scrunching up my nose, I regretted my outburst. It was actually kind of fun to hang out with someone so prestigious. “Sorry. I’m a bit nervous.”

  “You’re doing great.” Cameron took a sip of champagne.

  I held my glass by the stem.”I’m not saying anything.”

  “Exactly.”

  “You’re like Richard only craftier.”

  “I’m in no way like Richard. He’s got the biggest heart I know. Pity someone had to go and eviscerate it.”

  “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.