Page 68 of Enthrall
Scanning over the diary, I noticed a new name that hadn’t been there yesterday. Peering closer, I read that somebody called Courtney had a 10:15 with Richard. He’d written in pencil in his scratchy handwriting.
A wave of jealousy hit me. Her appointment was five minutes away.
I reminded myself I merely held the position of Richard’s secretary and despite last night’s kiss we were still on formal ground. He’d reaffirmed that very issue within the hour and I’d agreed with him a relationship was out of the question. Not that I’d had any choice in the matter. The last thing I needed was for Richard to become uncomfortable with his secretary’s crush on him.
Obsession.
I had to act casual around him. Uncaring even. As though he was just another staff member and not the hot, god-like being who strolled around like he owned the place.
It really was time I got a boyfriend. Perhaps Bailey would come out with me this weekend. A night of clubbing would put me straight.
Who the hell was Courtney?
I’d met quite a few of Enthrall’s clients and all of them had been escorted by the girls into the dungeon. Which meant that Richard would do the same for Courtney.
Sipping my drink, my gaze swept from the clock to the elevator and back again as I tried to reassure myself she was just a client, proof of which lay in her name being in the diary.
It also dawned on me I had no idea what really went on during a session, and despite having a fleeting taste of Cameron’s technique, I wasn’t sure if any of the mistresses or even Richard were bold enough to have sex with a client.
With that thought threatening to melt my brain and soak my panties, the elevator announced it was about to spit out a client. Funnily enough, I hoped it was the monsieur.
She was pretty.
I could see that from here as I rose to greet the young lady named Courtney, or who I assumed was Courtney. She walked slowly, demurely, her sensual gait reflecting a woman of the world and her petite frame begging for a man to protect her, wrap his arms around her.
Maybe a man like Richard.
The staff door opened and my head snapped round to see him standing there, his face lighting up. They embraced and it was one of those hugs you share with a best friend or, heaven forbid, a lover. Where was that in-character demeanor of masterdom Richard should be holding, like the one Lotte always held for Monsieur Trouville?
“Let me introduce my secretary,” said Richard, but his gaze didn’t find me. “This is Ms. Lauren.”
Courtney barely gave me a passing glance.
He gestured to the elevator. “Ready?”
She blushed wildly, her hand resting on her chest. “Yes.”
“Mia, the lift,” said Richard.
Head down, and hating these unfamiliar emotions raging in my chest, I turned the key and slid open the gate. I called the lift and stared inside when the doors opened, unable to look at them.
“This is closure,” he whispered to her. “It’s a good day.”
“The monsieur has an appointment too,” I said, nervous of them clashing.
“We have more than one room.” Richard’s thin smile warned me to cease speaking.
Courtney looked horrified. “Somebody else will be down there at the same time?”
“Our room will be locked,” said Richard. “Like always.”
She gripped the gate, her knuckles white.
I wondered how angry Richard would be if I advised her to reschedule after she’d thought this through. Surely she wasn’t ready for whatever lay in the bowels of this place, where pain was just another way of passing the time. Surely she’d have more fun on a shopping trip to Bloomingdales? Or lunch with her friends? Maybe therapy should be her first consideration?
“Thank you, Mia.” Richard gestured for me to step back. “We’ll start slow,” he whispered to her. “No surprises.”
My stomach churned and I found myself hating her, this rich girl wasting her daddy’s money in ways he surely had no idea about, and she was wearing a wedding ring, for goodness sake.
