Page 7 of Enthrall Secrets
Bursting into the restroom, I leaned over and retched into the sink, anger rising that this stranger had turned our world upside down with his insidious attack on all I held dear.
Goddamn it, people needed this place.
Strong fingers trailed through my hair and pulled it back from my face. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” soothed Cameron. “I’ve got this.”
“He’s going to send me to prison.” I struggled through a wave of panic.
Cameron stared at my mirrored reflection. “When have you ever known me to fail you?”
Those were more than words. That was Cameron’s call-to-arms. And not surprisingly he wouldn’t waver, wouldn’t show any weakness. I’d never known him to lose a fight and if I knew one thing about Cameron Cole he never lost hope.
“Wash your face. We have work to do.”
I splashed my face with cold water, and when I braved a glance at my reflection again I hated the distraught look still in my gaze. I’d always prided myself on bouncing back quickly from the crap life threw at me, but this was out of my league.
Cameron handed me a soft linen napkin.
Taking in all the gold-plated faucets, trimmings and marble tile, I felt another wave of guilt. This place had cost a fortune to furnish. Chrysalis was a place of luxury and wowed anyone privileged enough to make it over the threshold. Black and burgundy drapes and low-hanging chandeliers rounded out the decadence. This was one of the world’s most opulent clubs and we hosted political leaders, sportsmen, CEOs, A-list actors, and even royalty. Our members were ensured privacy and very often undertook the kind of sessions that healed their childhood traumas and returned them to society as highly functioning individuals.
No one was ever supposed to know of their connection to us. That had been our promise from the start and Cameron’s ingenious management ensured it.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“Tell me about your time with him.”
I threw the soiled napkin in the basket. “It was our first session. It was going okay right up until he dropped the bombshell of his true identity.”
“Any irregularities before that?”
I swiped a stray hair out of my eyes. “He wouldn’t submit. No subspace.”
“Interesting.”
“Why didn’t they send an undercover cop?”
“Doing the job himself means no one fucks up. He’s a control freak. Now, was there anything else I can use?”
“He mentioned a loved one being shot in front of him. Used it to manipulate me into touching him. Lying bastard.”
“Did you perform a sexual act?”
I slapped a hand over my mouth.
“Oh, come on, Scarlet, it’s me you’re talking to.” He gave my arm a comforting squeeze.
“I broke the rules.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m always breaking them.”
I looked away. “I touched him.”
“His dick?”
“Yes.”
He mulled that over. “Did he come?”
“No. I touched it for ten seconds. He never once entered subspace. No arousal whatsoever.”
