Enthrall Him (Enthrall Sessions Book 3) (6 page)

“But the room is so nice.”

“Fuck the room. You’re the most important woman in my life.” He shook his head. “I promised Richard I’d protect you.”

A wave of nausea hit me. I’d never seen Cameron like this before.

“We’re in good hands,” he said. “Shay is head of security for Chrysalis and Enthrall. He’s the CEO of CloudSoul.”

“What’s that?”

“His global security company.”  

“Can’t I just meet with Lance? Tell him in no uncertain terms he can fuck off.”

“As you’ve discovered, he has dubious methods and stealth access.”

“You told me he was reasonable.”

“I still believe he is.”

“Tell me the truth about him.”

Cameron lifted my chin. “This will all be resolved soon. I promise.”

“What’s written on that note? You have to tell me.”

He stared out of the window, his gaze searching for something but not finding it. “Lance just wanted us to know he sent the champagne.”

“Was it really me who alerted him?”

“You sent an email to Bailey?” Cameron curled his fingers and caressed my face. “I’m not angry.”

Gripping his hand, I felt that familiar self-hate find me again. I needed his touch, his forgiveness, his strength.

“Emailing Bailey was an innocent action, Mia.”

“I didn’t say which hotel.”

“Looks like you went on to also Google Lance? His people tracked the IP address.”

“Did he phone from America to room service?” I dreaded Lance might be here.

“He’s still in California. Richard’s meeting with him this evening.”

The ground felt uneasy beneath my feet.

“Lance isn’t that much of an idiot. He takes pleasure in other means…” Cameron caressed his forehead.

“Tell me he won’t hurt you?” I said.

“Lance knows that going after you is what hurts us.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. That auction should never have happened. It’s not Richard’s fault either. He had no idea Lance was waiting for the opportunity to get back at me for maintaining power over the lion’s den.”

“Let’s go to the police.”

He hugged me to his chest.

That first time I’d trespassed into Chrysalis during one of their parties held for the sexually elite, merely dressed in nothing but a bodice and a thong, Cameron had freaked when he saw me. Members of the lion’s den, all of them rich and powerful and used to getting what they wanted, had been on the prowl. Lamb to the slaughter indeed. And Cameron had rescued me before I’d bumped into any of them.

A knock at the door caused me to jolt.

“Wait here,” he said.

Still haunted by Cameron’s expression, I tried to think straight.

The door opened. Cameron invited someone in. There was something familiar about the man’s voice.

I peeked into the living room and saw the ruggedly handsome Shay Gardner standing there, Cameron’s formidable fencing opponent and an equally terrifying dominant of Chrysalis. He wore jeans and a leather jacket. His hair was more ruffled than usual.

He threw me a reassuring wave and said, “Hey there, Mia.”

These surreal seconds unfolded in a dream-like haze. Shay was meant to be back in the States. There’d been no mention of him meeting us.

Hardly catching their conversation, I was too focused on that bottle of champagne. That card.

Moving swiftly, I reached for it.

“Mia,” snapped Cameron.

Quickly, I read it, feeling all air leave the room.  

“Mine.”

            — L.M.

CHAPTER 4

THE CARD SLIPPED from my fingers and spiraled onto the carpet.  

Lance’s threat was all too real.

My throat constricted and my mind scattered to the four corners of nothingness, trying to grasp what this meant. I really hoped Richard would get through to him.

Cameron helped me with my coat, tugging the belt tight around my waist.

“Mia, we’re changing location,” said Shay. “That’s all. No fuss.”

“Go with him,” said Cameron. “I’ll follow.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” I said.

Cameron smirked. “The Brits don’t take kindly to naked Americans wandering their streets.”

Shay grabbed my arm, his ironclad grip burning. “Cole, keep the card. We may need it later.”

“Got it,” said Cameron.

“I thought you were in America?” I said, pulling back on Shay’s grip.  

He dragged me out of the suite.

I tried to wriggle away.

He looked amused. “I didn’t bring my hose, Mia.”

“Cameron!” I turned to see him standing just outside the door, his face fraught with worry.

“Wait.” Cameron came after us.

I reached back for him.

He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me towards him. “Your intuition always gives you the answers. Always. Remember that.”

Shay pulled me out of his grasp.

“Hold on tight,” Cameron called after us.

We headed fast down the hallway, ignoring the elevator and making for the stairwell, as though adrenaline was choosing for us. Taking floor after floor, rounding the stairs, my shoes clanged and my breaths echoed.

After managing several floors, we bolted back into the hallway and went for the elevator, Shay scoured left and right as we waited for it to arrive. An empty elevator greeted us and we stepped in. Shay punched the down button several times.  

I tried to reason with my confusion. I hated leaving Cameron behind. I hated Lance for doing this. I was scared for Richard.

Shay’s leather jacket crinkled as he texted away. I assumed he had CyberVape on his phone too.

“Why can’t we wait for Cameron?” I asked.

“Because he’s our decoy,” said Shay. “This is what I do. You’re in good hands.”

“Where did you learn all this?” I said, marveling that the man with a kink for sexually torturing submissives had a sensible job.

“I’m ex-military,” he said. “Navy SEAL.”

“Like Leo?” I remembered Cameron saying something about his driver being ex-army.

Shay glanced up from his phone. “Leo was a marine.”

“Are you texting Cameron?”

“No, I’m checking no one tampered with our ride.” Shay texted back. “I have a sentry guarding it.”

My thoughts flashed back to Shay with Arianna, his submissive, at his feet. Him yielding the kind of power over her that only a seasoned master could. I had a vague recollection of a tattoo on his shoulder that had some kind of military insignia. The one I’d given no thought to until now.

The concierge met us when the elevator door opened. “Ms. Lauren, there’s a call for you. It’s Mr. Lance Merrill.” He pointed to the reception.

“Thank you,” I said nervously.

“Tell Mr. Merrill all calls to Dr. Cole’s room are being held until morning,” said Shay.

He pulled my body close and we headed in the opposite direction of the front door, past offices, numbered rooms, politely smiling staff, and onwards.

Upon entering the kitchen, we were hit by a burst of heat and the scent of oil and herbs. Even at this time, chefs were cooking. Passing more staff, all working at their stations, they shared looks of surprise to see the tall, fierce looking man hauling me alongside him.

“Can I help you, sir?” asked a young chef.

“Restroom?” Shay blurted, rounding the central aisle.

“He means the loo,” offered one of the other workers.

Dodging a man carrying a silver platter of cheese, we hurried out, trekking onward down more endless hallways.

Outside, the coldness hit me.

I blinked into the dawn.

“Ever been on a motorbike before?” asked Shay, pulling me towards the curb where a sleek black bike with the Ducati insignia on the side was parked.

“No, never,” I said, and tried to escape his grip. “My dad…”

I’d lived in fear of them since one had supposedly taken my dad’s life. Head spinning, my heart stuck in my throat, I talked myself down from this edge of panic. My dad was still very much alive and that bike accident had been a lie.

“I can’t,” I said.

“Yes you can, and you will.”

Shay grabbed one of two helmets off the back of the bike and squished the headgear on me.

Cameron’s words “
hold on tight,
” reverberated in my skull.

“It’s easy,” said Shay. “Just wrap your arms around my waist and move your body with mine.”

I watched him pull his on helmet. “Why can’t we go in a car?”

“Because this is how we roll, baby.” He glanced down the road. “Time to lose the fuckers.”

Climbing behind Shay, sitting a little higher than him, I leaned forwards and wrapped my arms around his waist and squeezed my thighs on either side of his, hoping he wouldn’t complain about my death grip. He kicked the bike off its stand, righted it, and revved the engine. A deep throttled vibration spread between my thighs.

A roar of the engine. A tug backwards as we sped off.

I leaned in, hugging Shay, holding on even tighter, the whooshing of the world going by.

We were on the wrong side of the road.

No
, my addled brain screamed at me, remember, this is another weird quirk of this country. They drive on the damn left.

We rode fast. Zigzagging.

The thrum of the engine reverberated through my body. I leaned left and then right, and the buildings on either side were a blur. Shay navigated the thin streets while dodging cars, taxis, and a few pedestrians, and despite being on the other side of the road he handled the bike with ease.

We stopped to take a few seconds break beneath a deserted bridge where Shay checked on me. Despite my hands feeling the cold, I was actually holding up. I missed Cameron terribly, but Shay assured me we’d be seeing him again soon.

With him confident he wasn’t going to lose his passenger, we took off. The helmet kept my ears warm, and I peered through the visor, taking in the passing scenery.

This eclectic city was awakening.

Shay parked the bike just off Waterloo Station. We brought our helmets with us as we raced up a grand stairwell toward a building with
The Royal British Officer’s Club
carved above the stone arched doorway.

We were met by a young man dressed in a blazer, beige pants, and a scarf. He introduced himself to me as Ned. The way he greeted Shay proved they were old friends reuniting, and Ned’s short haircut gave away his connection to the military. I’d only been in this city a few hours and already the accents were familiar; his sounded refined.

Ned furtively looked behind us, hinting at his awareness of our evasiveness. He guided us swiftly through the building, which at this time of morning was deserted, and we passed framed photos of grand looking officers. Farther down, there were black and white pictures taken of soldiers during the first and second World Wars, and I wished there was more time to study them.

The elevator took us high.

The hallway, with its grey and red carpet, sprawled before us, and the faintest scent of stale cigarette smoke rose from beneath a doorway.

Ned and Shay chatted outside our room while I checked it out.

It was nothing like the Savoy. Basic everything and small. There were two beds separated and a bedside table in the middle, where I placed my helmet. Another door led off to a bathroom.

I investigated it. A quick glance at the electrical outlets that wouldn’t take any of my American appliances reminded me I was in a foreign land. Not that I had any of them here. Despite speaking the same language, all these differences were unsettling.

I shoved this fear down.

Shay rejoined me. “We’ll be safe here.”

“Is Cameron meeting us?” I asked.

“Soon. This is only for one night.” He removed his jacket and threw it on the bed. He picked up a bottle of water from the corner table. “Want one?”

I plopped down onto the opposite, overly firm bed. “No, thank you.”  

“Ned’s ex-SAS.” He took a sip. “So we’re in good hands. We’re registered under his name.”

“SAS?”

“British special forces. Bad ass.”

“Were we followed?” I asked.

“Not for long.”

My shoulders slumped. “Why do I have a feeling you’re keeping something back?”

“You’re tired.” He sat on the bed opposite. “Get some sleep. I’ll take this one.” He patted the bed’s firmness and smirked. “By morning, you’ll be an honoree SEAL. This is hardcore.”