Enthrall

by Vanessa Fewings

  “Never. I love you.” And life pre-Richard was an empty, desolate land without love.

  “I’ll always love you, Mia, always.” He sealed his promise with a kiss. “I will never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I’ll do anything for you,” I said. “Richard Booth Sheppard.”

  He gave a smile. “Be happy. That is all I’ll ever ask of you.”

  I snuggled into his neck, his steady heart beating against my chest, wanting nothing more than to stay here forever.

  I WROTE MY NAME in pencil in Enthrall’s appointment book and secured myself an 11:00 A.M. with Richard.

  Soon he would arrive, and just as I’d done each morning since I’d begun working here I’d hand him the book. There came little doubt that in Richard’s arms I’d feel safe when taken down into Enthrall’s depths. Thoughts of what might unfold there caused tingles of excitement to unfurl, sending a thrill between my thighs.

  “I have so much pleasure to show you.”

  Blushing wildly, I tucked my Frederick’s of Hollywood shopping bag farther beneath the desk, barely hiding it behind the glass fronted panel. I took a moment to check email. There were several of them and all of them routine.

  Half in a daze, I opened my Google browser and entered Richard Booth Sheppard. In stark contrast to last time I’d searched, there were literarily thousands of results. By merely dropping his last name he’d successfully removed himself from any listings. I clicked images. Richard stared back in numerous photos. There he was with his father, or so the tag indicated, and in another, strolling out of a restaurant after an evening of fine dining in Manhattan. In the one beneath, Richard huddled with his two older brothers, their similarities startling, their gazes upon their father hinting at happier times. There were quite a few of him beside a pretty, smiling blonde, and as I ran the mouse over one of the photos I confirmed this was his fiancé, Emily Oren.

  I clicked the link.

  Baron King, a New York Times journalist who’d written the article on Richard, confirmed what I now knew. Emily’s suicide note had been the only evidence keeping Richard from going to jail. The homicide detectives had quickly authenticated that Emily had indeed committed suicide, as had the on-call coroner lending his expertise on the matter. I felt terrible for Richard, losing his fiancé like that and almost being accused of her death. It must have been what sent him over the edge.

  Throat dry, I read on, and a wave of guilt washed over me because I was able to have this love affair with him due to some terrible event that had wiped his life off the map.

  Emily had used one of Richard’s razors to cut her wrists according to Baron King, who had an indifferent way of writing, as though merely dissecting a set of experiences and not a man’s spiraling life or a woman’s death. Upon the screen I followed King’s words, trying to grasp them. Emily had been three months pregnant when she’d taken her life.

  A moan of sadness escaped my lips.

  With unsteady legs, I made it through the staff room door and ran into the restroom. There, I splashed water onto my face, my chest shaking with sobs. A terrible sense of loss tugged hard and thoughts of that baby dying inside her wrenched at my insides. I imagined how Richard coped with having lost his child.

  Cameron had alluded to this when he’d taken me with him to that restaurant Chez Polidor, providing a slither of insight that someone had eviscerated Richard’s heart. The fact Richard might believe the blame still rested on him made me wonder how he’d carried on at all. I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dapped my face, haunted by this startling realization.

  I froze.

  I’d left the screen up. I flew out and along the hallway, pushing the door open to the reception and almost tripped over my own feet.

  Cameron sat in my chair with his stare fixed on the screen. His gaze found me. “It’s best to delete your search history. That way your subject won’t feel stalked.”

  “I know what happened.”

  “All of us here do our part to protect his privacy.”

  I gave a nod, wanting Cameron to know that was important to me too.

  “We don’t want a client seeing this now do we?” he said firmly.

  “Emily was pregnant.”

  “Three months.” Cameron clicked away until all evidence of my search had been closed. “Terrible ordeal.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  His gaze found me again. “No harm done.”

  “Richard and I visited His Lai Temple,” I said. “He told me everything.”

  “Good.”

  “His father lost all those people their money.”

  “That’s an understatement. Edwin Sheppard crippled the financial system and left a wake of devastation.” He lifted his hand off the mouse. “Did Richard tell you about the death threats against him?”

  I shook my head, having not even thought of the consequences raging a war even now.

  “He’s safe here.” Cameron glanced at the screensaver, taking in the Japanese garden that Richard had set for me. “Mia, I owe you an apology.”

  “I don’t think you do.”

  “When I heard about you from Tara, I decided you’d be perfect for my patient.” He tilted his head. “As you know, Richard isn’t only my best friend.”

  I tried to remember if I’d turned the air-con on and couldn’t.

  “Months ago,” he said, “Tara showed me a photo of her girlfriend Bailey. Mia, you were also in that photo. When Tara told me she was leaving I asked her to encourage you to apply for her position. Of course you’re stunning. There’s no question about that. You radiate a rare beauty. Natural and breathtaking. A striking combination. What I had also hoped for was you’d be as endearing as you looked.” He peered at me beneath dark lashes. “You are. You’re enigmatic. That trick you pulled when you asked for your job back in Richard’s office made me believe I was some kind of genius.”

  “You lured me here?”

  He reached into his pocket and removed a white envelope. “You’ve accomplished everything I could have hoped for and more. You’ve outdone yourself. You’ve achieved what the rest of us failed to do and that is rescue Richard from himself. His addiction to danger is dissipating thanks to you.”

  I stared at the envelope.

  “I knew Richard would fall for you,” he said. “But this result went far beyond my expectations.”

  I couldn’t bear to hear anymore. My legs felt unsteady again and a surge of adrenaline gave me what I needed to run.

  “At your housewarming party,” said Cameron, “Bailey told me about your dream of becoming a fashion designer.” He leaned forward. “In this envelope is your ticket to freedom.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come here,” he commanded. “Your work is done.”

  I stepped forward and took the envelope from him, hands shaking, heart aching.

  “This check will provide enough money for you to enroll in the college of your choice. Set yourself up and live well for quite some time. Money’s no issue. I come from old money. If you want more, text me. There’s an endless supply.” He glanced over at the screen. “I’m sure if you’ve Googled me too you’d have confirmed that.”

  I hadn’t, but now I wished I had. Maybe somewhere in that search I’d have found something to enlighten me on what kind of man Cameron really was. Was this blackmail or merely his way of getting rid of me? Had I come between him and Richard, his protégé?

  “Are you sending me away?” I said.

  “I’m giving you your freedom. A relationship with Richard means crossing the line into our world and never looking back. This is not who you are. Quite frankly, you’re not that type of girl.”

  My gaze found my Frederick’s bag.

  As did his.

  He peeked inside and caught a glimpse of my corset. “Honesty with oneself is the most important factor in finding true happiness.”

  I gestured to the bag. “That’s my answer.”

  “You don’t ha
ve to do this.”

  “I don’t want to leave.”

  “You’re not even sure what it is you’re leaving.”

  I stood my ground.

  “Prove to me this is what you want,” he said. “That you won’t panic and desert Richard. Something tells me this relationship you have with him is about to get heavy. I don’t want him hurt. And equal to that is your fulfillment. Your happiness too, Mia.”

  I swallowed hard, my heart and head racing in response to what he was saying.

  I stepped closer to him. “Soon after my mother died I snuck into the attic to explore her personal items. You know, find out more about her from things of hers stored in a few dusty old boxes. I wanted to know her better. Understand who I was, I suppose. My mom loved to read, and amongst her collection of old books I found this one by Ayn Rand. My father had bought it for her according to the note inside. Well, I took that book and hid in my bedroom and read it under the covers with a flashlight. I was staying with a neighbor until they could get in touch with my father and ship me off to him. There was something comforting about knowing I had a piece of my mom. From the dog-eared pages, both my parents had read it.”

  “Atlas Shrugged?” said Cameron.

  “It was hard to understand most of it. But I was determined to get what the book was about. I reasoned it might help me grasp a philosophy for living. Maybe even show me how to survive. A message from my mother from beyond the grave. Like she’d wanted me to find it.”

  Cameron’s expression was calm. His focus never wavered, as though those intense brown eyes could read every emotion matching each word.

  Shakily, I went on, “Ayn Rand made it quite clear that if you came across a child in need of help... you should let her die.” A sob caught in my throat. “This was apparently not an uncommon philosophy. Even politicians have raved about how amazing Atlas Shrugged is and marveled at her philosophical system.”

  “Objectivism,” said Cameron.

  I took a deep steadying breath, hoping to make him understand. “Cameron, I...”

  “You were that child.”

  “One week away from digging around the garbage for food.”

  Cameron’s eyes watered though his expression remained still, focused.

  I gazed down at the envelope he’d given me and ripped it in half. “When I first came here all of you were so kind to me. A kindness I’ve never known. My step-mother took me in because she needed me. Where others turned their backs on me you all opened your arms and welcomed me in.” I moved closer, close enough to touch. “Richard paid off my debt. We’re talking thousands of dollars. His kindness was unconditional.” I caught my breath, trying to remain calm and let him see I could handle talking about this. “Don’t push me away, Cameron. Please.”

  Mia, I--”

  “I know that condo I’m living in is yours. You did that for me to get me out of that studio.”

  He leaned his elbow on the desk and caressed his forehead. “How did you figure it out?”

  “You used Lotte to entice me.” I tilted my head. “I wasn’t certain but now I am.”

  “Clever girl.”

  “Who’s idea was the fish tank?”

  “Richard’s,” he said. “We needed to think up a reason why you’d be asked to house sit. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

  “I’m not sure I want to stay there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “What I do know is this, I love Richard and he loves me. I belong here.”

  “That’s a half million dollar check you ripped up.”

  “I don’t want your money. I want Richard.”

  He held out his hand and I dropped the torn halves into his palm.

  “Forgive me,” he said. “I had to make sure you were certain. I brought you here. I’m responsible for you. For both of you.”

  “I’ve never been more certain of anything. I may still pursue my dream of becoming a fashion designer one day. For now, though, I’m happy here.”

  “Nice corset by the way.”

  “I think so.” I gave a smile. “Look, I don’t want my life to be vanilla. I want to have that same expression that everyone has when they leave here.”

  “Something tells me you will.” He peered into the paper bag. “And stockings.”

  “Do you think Richard will like it?”

  “I’m not sure who is rocking whose world.”

  “That’ll be me rocking his.”

  “Bravo, Ms. Lauren, Bravo.” Cameron leaned back. “And a bottle of champagne. You do know we have a no-booze rule? Giving Richard an excuse to punish you is pure ingenuity on your part.”

  “Maybe he’ll make an exception.”

  “Maybe he’ll use a paddle.” He grinned.

  I tried to suppress mine. “You’re an expert when it comes to profiling. You knew I’d stay.”

  “Sometimes I’m wrong, though rarely.” He brought a finger to his lips. “That’ll be our secret.”

  The elevator pinged.

  Richard headed out fast toward us. “I slept in. Someone kept me up all night.” He flashed that adorable smile.

  It felt wonderful to see him.

  Richard frowned at me. “I woke up and you were gone.”

  “I hate being late,” I said.

  He rummaged through his satchel. “Everything okay?”

  “We were discussing Ayn Rand,” said Cameron.

  “So early?” said Richard.

  “It’s ten in the morning,” said Cameron, amused.

  “As long as it’s not Nietzsche,” said Richard. “Rand was inspired by him. No wonder her philosophy was skewered.”

  Cameron looked over at me. “And Rand became sick in her later years and actually signed up for social security and Medicare.” He pointed a finger to make his point. “So much for letting the weak die.”

  “I’ll say,” agreed Richard. “Nothing quite like life to humble you.”

  Cameron rose. “It really is impressive how many of those former less fortunates come back around to make a phenomenal impression on the world.” He looked at me. “Everyone’s worth saving.”

  “All very heavy before breakfast.” Richard tapped Cameron’s arm. “No doubt you’ve run six miles.”

  “Four.”

  “Only four,” said Richard. “You’re slipping, sir.”

  “I’m meeting Lotte for brunch.” Cameron smiled. I’ll see you two later.”

  Within moments he’d stepped inside the elevator and the doors shut on him, taking our conversation with him and hopefully never to be repeated.

  “What was he doing here?” said Richard.

  “He wanted to talk to me.”

  “About?”

  “Us.”

  Richard stared at the lift. “Well?”

  “He cares for you so much he just wanted to know that I love you and I want to be with you.” There, I said it, and it felt wonderful to share the truth.

  “He’s worse than my mother,” said Richard, shaking his head. “I didn’t like waking up and not seeing you there. What happened?”

  “I told you. I didn’t want to be late.”

  “I’m sure your boss would understand.”

  “I’ll make him some coffee.”

  Richard waved that off. “I’ll make it.”

  I grabbed the appointment book off the desk and followed him down the hallway and he wrapped his arm around my waist, kissing my forehead.

  “What’s in the Frederick’s bag?” He opened the door to the coffee room, allowing me to go on ahead.

  I bit my lip and handed him the diary.

  He peered down at today’s date. “You were having a pretty serious conversation with Cameron. What brought that on?” He walked away, keeping his back to me.

  “I Googled you,” I admitted.

  “I Googled you too.”

  “Really?” My attention stayed on the glass pot.

  He made his way over to the coffeemaker and rested the book aside. He
set about brewing fresh beans. How strange, I could plan such a rendezvous and yet talking about it terrified me.

  “I’m afraid nothing came up on you.” He shook his head and smiled. “We may need to remedy that.”

  My face fell as thoughts of the articles flashed back to me.

  “I imagine what you read about me blew your mind?” he said.

  I opened the cupboard and reached in for two mugs and placed them on the counter before us.

  “You read about Emily?” he said.

  Brown liquid trickled and sputtered into the pot, the scent of coffee filling the air.

  He ran his fingertip along the box of filters. “We hadn’t decorated the nursery yet. We couldn’t agree on the color scheme. She wanted yellow. I fucking hate yellow.”

  “I’m so sorry, Richard.”

  “I could have gotten used to yellow.”

  I cursed myself for bringing it up and questioned my ability to be any use to him, or anyone. I couldn’t understand why he wanted to be with someone like me. A naive girl with little to offer. Tears stung my eyes.

  He reached for my arms and pulled me into him. “See, now that’s out of the way.”

  “You’re not angry?”

  “Heavens no. It’s not exactly something you share on the second date.” He shrugged. “Do you have any secrets you want to share?”

  “No,” I said, unable to think of any.

  He let me go and poured coffee into the mugs. “Please cancel my 11:00 A.M.” He handed the diary back.

  My head jolted up and I stared into those blue eyes of his that only held mine for a second. The contents of my Frederick’s bag was now redundant.

  He added milk to my coffee and gave me one of the mugs. “Let’s have lunch together.”

  “I’d like that.”

  He took his drink and headed out.

  I clutched the diary to my chest, wondering why I’d not challenged him. Yes, he liked to be the one to lead in a relationship but I had an opinion too. I had desires to explore, and right now I felt him pushing me away again. I cursed myself for sabotaging today with my snooping.

  Opening the appointment book, I ran my fingertip over where he’d put a line through my name under his 11:00 A.M. and lowered my gaze.

  Richard had written my name against his 6:00 P.M. designation. Only this one he’d written in pen.