Richard's Reign (Book 6): Enthrall Novella #3 (Enthrall Sessions) Page 14

  “We also offer confidential services.”

  “He was different after his treatment with you and Dr. Cole.”

  “He told you that?”

  “Not in so many words. Ethan was crushed after his wife died…when she was murdered.” Her gaze rose to meet mine. “He came with me to Florida. Our aunt has a house in Key Largo. She invites us out every year. The kids, there’s about ten of us. Brothers and sisters and cousins. We swim, and sunbathe, rest and escape. And eat too.”

  “Sounds fantastic.”

  “It is. You can come with me if you like.”

  My gaze shot to hers. “You’re going out of town?”

  “After this shoot.”

  “Not sure that would be a good idea.”

  “Silly idea.” She shook her head. “Not sure why I came up with it.”

  “Thank you, though, for thinking of me.”

  “I always am…I mean, I’m grateful for everything.” She blushed wildly and reached into her handbag to peek at her iPhone. “Just got texted my call time tomorrow.”

  “What time?”

  “Seven.” She arched a brow. “Would you like to visit me on set?”

  “I’m afraid I have work tomorrow. I’m helping a friend out with his portfolio. It really does require my full attention.”

  “Of course. Oh, I forgot to thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “The Doctor Who mug.” She beamed. “I’m too scared to drink from it in case it breaks.”

  “I want you to enjoy it.” I cringed. “Those fucking Daleks scare the hell out of me.”

  We laughed hysterically.

  “I’m glad you love time-travel as much as me,” I said with a wink.

  “Some things are easy to fall for.” Her gaze stayed on me.

  Remaining nonchalant, or trying to, I broke her stare and saw our waitress heading our way.

  She placed two large plastic bags between us, both of them holding crabs legs, unpeeled shrimp and cobs of sweet corn. Andrea’s giggles rose once more and she slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized how loud she’d gotten.

  The food was drenched in garlic butter and as I snapped open a crab’s leg for Andrea, juice trickled over my hands. I handed her the small red hook and watched her elegantly scoop out the crab meat. She popped it into her mouth and her face lit up.

  I set about peeling a shrimp for her.

  She picked one out of the bag herself, peeled the shrimp and handed it to me. We ate like this, taking our time to snap a crab’s leg or peel a shrimp, and hand it to each other, both of us not caring about the messiness - in between sipping lime beer and chatting away.

  “I’m just a girl,” she said.

  I sat back ready to listen.

  “You make me feel like me. Ordinary.”

  “You’re extraordinary.”

  “What I mean is when I’m with you I feel so relaxed.”

  “That’s good.”

  “I suppose you can’t go through something like that and not change.”

  “You mean face off with Joy?”

  “Yes.”

  “By pushing beyond fear we master it. What seems terrifying before seems manageable.”

  “I’ll have to be careful what I tell you in future.”

  “You did ask for my help.”

  “That was not what I had in mind.”

  “Should’ve been more specific.”

  Another tap with her heel to my shin.

  “Richard, I can’t believe no one has snapped you up.”

  “Well, I’m not easy to live with.”

  “Neither am I.”

  “Yes, you are Andrea. You’re easy to be around.”

  “Perhaps we can remain friends when this is over.”

  “I believe I’ve taught you everything you need to know about my world.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “Maybe we’ll see each other at another charity event?” I tried to sound polite.

  Don’t do it, don’t end this. Not now, not ever.

  “Is this like our celebration dinner?” she muttered.

  “It is.”

  “I suppose what we did back at Lux Spa was the best break-up sex ever.”

  “Not really break-up sex as we’re not technically dating.” I gave a nod. “More of a celebration of us.”

  “It feels a little unreal.”

  “I want to thank you.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “It’s been cathartic for me, too.”

  “How?”

  “I’d ended a relationship before we met and needed time to heal. Being with you, time spent with you—” I chewed my lower lip thoughtfully.

  “I want to see you again, Richard.”

  The other me, the one who didn’t know any better, reached out for her hand and squeezed it and told her I wanted that, too.

  The reasonable me said, “Andrea, we both know my past and your future would clash.”

  “I don’t care about what people say.”

  “It’s my job to protect you.” I lowered my gaze. “This is a normal reaction to the impending end of a master’s training. It’s expected.”

  Her gaze stayed on mine. “You’re wrong. We’re amazing together. You and I both know it. Our chemistry is incredible. You’re the one who taught me to face my fears and go after what I want.”

  My head and heart were doing summersaults and threatening to crash into each other and render me speechless.

  The greatest love would mean giving her up and her letting go. Doing what is right for her. I’d proven once before I was capable of doing that with Mia, and now she was in her lover’s arms and happier than ever.

  Happiness and I had never truly understood each other. A mish-mash of moments caught when sadness was looking the other way.

  Rallying my strength, I reached out and took her hand in mine.

  “At least think about it,” she said.

  “We’d always be hiding from the press. You’d have to keep me a secret. That’s not the kind of life I want - for you or me. I’m sorry.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Excuse me.” Our pretty Asian waitress appeared in a flurry, her face flushed, wearing an awkward smile.

  “Yes?” Andrea peered up at her.

  “Could I get your autograph for the bartender?” she said sheepishly. “He’s a huge fan of yours.” She looked over at me.

  I gave Andrea a sympathetic smile.

  She reached for a napkin and dried juice off her hands. “Of course. What’s his name?”

  In a haze of realization I watched what our friendship had done to her.

  What I’d done to her.

  Andrea’s hands were shaking.

  CHAPTER 20

  SCARLET DOUBLED OVER in hysterical laughter.

  “What?” I said mischievously.

  She flopped down into my leather armchair. No doubt with my office door open everyone would hear her.

  “Your first sugar scrub?” she said.

  “The whole thing starts off like a form of water torture and the next thing you know you’re wishing it would never end.”

  I’d never reveal how the second half of “the sugar treatment” went, but Scarlet was a spa addict and knew exactly what I was talking about.

  “My first time,” she said, “I thought I was going to drown.”

  “Don’t let me drown…”

  Andrea’s aura seeped into my psyche and my thoughts carried me back to her. I’d not spoken with her for two days and it felt like years.

  This, this was torture of my own making. Doing what was right felt so wrong. I ran my fingers through my hair not wanting Scarlet to see me like this - completely spellbound, head spinning. I’d long ago mastered the expression that life was fine, the impossibility of love calling me only to laugh in my face.

  That open book by Chaucer was on my desk. Reading it had brought comfort.

  Scarlet peered down at the note card and the book with Andrea’s
signature. “What a wonderful gift. Andrea Buckingham’s a keeper.”

  I lowered my gaze.

  She rose out of the chair and came over, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. “You can still be friends.”

  I played with a pen on my desk.

  “Have you fallen for her?”

  My gaze met hers.

  Ethan Neilson strolled on in, his face drawn, his glare on me.

  “Ethan,” said Scarlet, pulling away from me.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Did I interrupt?”

  “No, of course not,” she said.

  He didn’t look convinced.

  Scarlett tapped my arm. “I have a sub in the dungeon being prepared. She’s an applicant for our new secretary. Thought we’d hire a worldlier assistant this time.” She winked at me and then leaned toward Ethan and kissed his cheek. “It’s great seeing you.”

  He gave a thin smile as he watched her leave. “Close the door, please,” he told her.

  “Good to see you, Ethan,” I said warily.

  Scarlet shut the door behind her.

  He came at me swinging a punch and I caught his fist and deflected it, shoving him down into an arm lock.

  “What the fuck did you do to my cousin?” he snapped.

  I yanked his arm back. “Can you be more specific?”

  He froze. “Let go.”

  “If you promise not to attack me.”

  “Let me go.”

  “Promise.”

  “No matter how much I want to.”

  “You’re a D.A.” I freed him and stepped back. “Aren’t you meant to have self-control?”

  He sprung up, staggered to his feet and I braced for another attack.

  “You could have killed her,” he said.

  “I would never let anything happen to her.”

  “You don’t exactly have a good past record of taking care of your lovers.”

  I flinched. “That was cruel.”

  “I referred Andrea to you so you could discuss the BDSM lifestyle. Not so you could drown her.”

  “If you’re referring to the trip on the boat, she enjoyed it.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “She had a breakthrough, Ethan.”

  “No, you don’t. You don’t get to compare what Cameron does to what you did with Andrea.”

  “It worked.”

  “All you did was scare her.”

  “Did she say that?”

  “Of course not. She’s too classy to share her feelings, unlike you.”

  I moved closer to him. “I was in the room, Ethan, when you had your breakthrough. Don’t forget that.”

  “And I’ll always be grateful. That doesn’t give you the right to hurt anyone I love.”

  “I would never—”

  “There’s no good in anything either of you do.”

  “Not true. You hadn’t had an erection in five years, Ethan. I saw to it that dry spell ended.”

  “I’m not discussing this with you now.” Pain flashed across his face, probably the memory of his wife being shot through the head at point blank range right in front of him.

  The subsequent carnage of a legal case gone awry, the culprit set free to walk the streets, right up until Ethan had found him. Shay had made it go away. And a brilliant and well-respected D.A. had continued his life as though he’d not repaid his wife’s murderer in kind.

  No matter how much empathy I had for this man, I’d not let him off the hook that easily.

  “As far as I recall,” I said softly. “Your cock was in my hand when it got hard after years of impotence.”

  “And yet you say you’re not gay?”

  “Even when you came in my hand.” I arched a brow. “So, technically, that would make you gay too.”

  His lips trembled. “Are you trying to undo all Cameron’s hard work?”

  “Hard being the operative word.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “My hard work, Ethan. I was in that room with you for a week, too. We ordered in pizza, for God sake. I stayed right beside you through the entire therapy. Remember that?”

  He slumped in a chair and covered his face with his hands. “I should have had you both arrested.”

  “Love you too, Ethan.”

  “Why does it have to be this way? Why do we have to be pushed to the edge of madness to find our way back?”

  “Because our pain refuses to budge. We have to outwit it. Outsmart it. Have the courage to face off with a greater fear.”

  What Cameron had accomplished with Ethan was a miracle. The man had been a mess when he’d come to us, underweight, unable to sleep for fear of that recurring dream finding him, and that haunting face of the man he’d murdered a frequent visitor in all its nightmarish gore. Cameron had healed Ethan’s psyche and set him free.

  And I’d been right there beside him to witness the miracle and aid in its revelation. A profound freeing of a soul and a renewing of a manhood.

  That young ambitious man who’d presented as a D.A. in Cameron’s office years ago, and threatened to shut down Chrysalis, had seen firsthand the benefit of the place. He not only dropped his investigation but ended up a member himself, allowing Cameron’s genius to continue to save those around him. The House had overcome yet another threat. How frequently our enemies became our friends, those who spewed hate inevitably bowed at our feet and begged to be embraced by our elite foundation. Ethan had followed in the trail of other great men who’d doubted us.

  Since then he’d been our greatest advocate - his quality of life improving and that fire that once burned within such a brilliant mind reignited, his passion refreshed.

  “I was always scared of it,” he whispered.

  “Cameron knew,” I said. “He knew your attitude toward sex was compromised.”

  “He made me see it’s not dirty, or…”

  “Remember what he told you, Ethan. Sex, as so perfectly explained in Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, is normal, a beautiful thing. When we embrace our sexuality we push away our existential angst and truly shed our anxiety so we’re free.”

  “Self-actualization.”

  “There’s no shame in it.”

  He shook his head, obviously conflicted.

  “Ethan, what we do here is miraculous work.”

  He sprang up. “How dare you try your dangerous technique on my cousin? You should have sought my permission first.”

  “I would never let anything happen to her. I care for her deeply.”

  “I blame myself.”

  “You know me better than this.” I stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “I love and respect you, Ethan, and I know you feel the same way about me.”

  “This is messed up.”

  “Andrea means the world to me.”

  “Cameron goes out of town for five minutes and you wreak havoc.”

  “Andrea told me she felt the benefit of facing her fear,” I whispered. “She needs to stand up to Mubarak.”

  “You should have turned her down when she asked for emersion.”

  “I’ve treated her well. Focused on pleasure, mostly.”

  Because of her aversion to pain.

  “Mostly?” he muttered.

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  “No, I’ll talk to her. Ask her forgiveness for ever mentioning your name.”

  “What has she told you?”

  “She’s back on set. Throwing herself into her work. Trying to salvage what’s left of her self-respect.”

  “I didn’t hurt her.”

  “You put her in the water with an eighteen-foot shark, Richard.”

  “I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  “TMZ’s running a feature on her new mysterious boyfriend. Shay will throw a fit.”

  I swallowed hard. “Did they say my name?”

  He shrugged. “Look, I’m here to take you to over to Warner Brothers.”

  “Where Andrea’s filming?”

  “Her publicist
wants to meet with you.”

  “Why?”

  “She’s working on a strategy to make this whole thing go away.”

  The ache in my chest worsened. “You mean me?”

  CHAPTER 21

  THE INTRODUCTIONS WERE brief.

  Megan Banks met Ethan and I outside Andrea’s luxury trailer, and we made the short journey up the steps and went inside.

  Megan wore the fierce demeanor of an East Coast businesswoman, bleached blonde hair in a French plat, shiny purple silk shirt and a pencil skirt to her knees, tight and restrictive, like her expression.

  Looking around I caught sight of how Andrea had made this little space welcoming. Cushions of every color on the couch, a small fridge and Perrier bottles lined up neatly along the small kitchenette, a vase full of lilies. Seeing them made me question who’d given them to her, and I felt an unfamiliar pang of jealousy. I mused that such an emotion was perfectly normal, we’d bonded after all, as lovers do, my imagination soothed me with the conclusion she’d bought them herself.

  Near her bed sat that large blue Doctor Who Tardis Police Box mug.

  She had a rose-patterned duvet she covered herself with when she took naps, no doubt her way of enduring the long production hours and her need to be fresh for each take. I’d made her believe I’d not cared for her profession but in reality I’d seen the truth behind the veil. The grueling hours, the constant hounding by fans or stalkers with cameras who called themselves journalists, and more impressive still was how far she pushed herself to be perfect for everyone around her.

  Megan Banks’ death glare stayed on me and I was grateful when it shifted to Ethan. Had this been any other day under different circumstances visiting Warner Brother’s back lot might have been considered a fun day.

  That East Coast accent came on strong, pure New York, pure Megan Banks fueled on caffeine and ambition. She told me she’d been Andrea’s publicist from the start of her career, she also shared that their business relationship had turned into a deep friendship. Megan and Andrea were best friends and Megan would do anything for her.

  Megan shot me a knowing look.

  “Andrea’s smitten with you,” she admitted.

  “I’m very fond of her,” I said. “She’s very special.”

  “Are you in love with her?” she asked.

  I looked to Ethan for support.

  His expression hadn’t changed from when we were back at Enthrall. That look of defeat filled with empathy and that arched brow to warn me the strike was coming.