Page 75 of Enthrall
“What?”
“The correct term is ‘excuse me.’ ‘What’is something an errant teenager says to their parents.” He gestured. “You wanted to share your insight?”
“Courtney looked terrified.”
“Her expression reflected her emotions.”
“She didn’t look like she wanted to go down there.”
“That’s because you suggested another man would be sharing the same space.”
I swallowed hard, my inner voice telling me to shut up. My mouth ignored my brain. “What did you do to her?”
“We completed a round of therapy.”
So we’re calling it therapy now?
I frowned. “We?”
Richard pointed to the wall. “That’s a doorway. Each office has one. They all lead to the dungeon. Courtney is Cameron’s client.”
I stared at the wallpaper, hardly able to believe the flawless pattern camouflaged a door.
“What I’m about to share with you is confidential,” said Richard. “Courtney suffered severe abuse as a child. Having been married for fifteen years and unable to conceive she sought out alternative therapy.”
“She’s infertile?”
“She had an aversion to sex.” Richard shrugged. “We cured her.”
“What did you do?”
“Firstly, working alongside her husband, we desensitized her to touch.” He gestured downward. “Lotte escorted her husband through the ground entrance.”
“Why didn’t she come through that way?”
“As the submissive they rise in the first elevator, thus accepting the challenge to face change, and as they descend in the second elevator they give themselves permission to surrender.” He gestured to his head. “It’s subliminal of course.”
“If she was so badly abused aren’t you making it worse?”
“She did ask to come here, Mia.”
“Maybe she needs a different therapist.”
“Fifteen years of conventional therapy with no resolution proves talking didn’t work. Not for her anyway.” He raised a shoulder. “Her husband’s a construction worker. They needed a little guidance.”
“Did she say it helped?”
“This was her final session. The series of treatments helped, yes.”
“How do you know?”
Richard folded his arms. “She’s pregnant with her husband’s child.”
It still didn’t seem right.
Richard stood in that familiar stance he liked to hold to intimidate whoever was in the room with him.
I placed my hands on my hips. “Then she shouldn’t be drinking alcohol.”
