Enthrall Him (Enthrall Sessions Book 3) (31 page)

His words made London come alive.

This new life meant I’d have to push all thoughts of Master Cole out of my mind and find my way back to my old life. The place where all I’d thought about was being the girlfriend he deserved.

I rested my cheek against Richard’s chest and sunk into him.

Christmas lights, decorated store windows, and bustling tourists made for a wonderful view. Old buildings joined with modern, the architecture a mishmash of styles. When we reached more open areas, the city view spread out before us in a richly textured vision.

We drove past Marble Arch and Park Lane, onward to Piccadilly, Trafalgar Square, and I caught sight of The Tower of London again.

My gaze swept over those turrets and my thoughts guided me back onto the ice, remembering skating with Cameron over the moat, and his warning before we left what it meant to please him.

“You okay?” asked Richard.

I gripped his hand tighter. “I’m fine.”

We drove through the city of Westminster and I took in Soho.

Richard told me the name was first given to the place in the 17
^th
century, despite it sounding modern.

“In fact the name comes from a former hunting cry,” said Richard. “Apparently the 1
^st
Duke of Monmouth—”

A scream came from the street.

Shouting.

Richard leaped up, scrambled over to the other side, and peered over the rail “Shit.”

He bolted down the bus steps.

“What is it?” I called after him, flying out of my seat, trying to keep up.

Richard yelled at the driver to open the door. He flew out and onto the street.

When I caught up to Richard, he was kneeling over a man who was lying on his back the curb. The fifty-year-old was grey and still, and he wasn’t breathing. A middle aged woman carrying shopping bags was screaming beside him. His wife?

Everything spun out of control, moving in slow motion.

“Call 999,” yelled Richard, as he ripped open the man’s shirt. “Mia, run in there and ask for an AED.” He pointed to a hotel door. “Now!”

I burst in through the sliding doors of the Sanctum Soho Hotel and ran to the concierge. “I need an AED. And an ambulance. There’s a man out there and he’s—”

The young man disappeared behind a door.

“Wait,” I called out to him. “Please you have to help us.”

He reappeared holding a black bag. “Show me.”

Sprinting out through the automatic doors with the man on my tail, I pointed over at Richard, who leaned over that poor victim. Richard had ripped open the man’s shirt and was pressing up and down fast on his chest.

Richard grabbed the AED from the concierge and flicked it open, tugging two pads away from the device and sticking them onto the man’s bare chest.

“Everyone clear,” shouted Richard, and he held his finger on a button on the AED.

A rising wail came from the machine.

Richard reached for the man’s neck. “No pulse. I’ll shock again. Clear.”

In a daze, I stood there watching, marveling at the way Richard managed the situation and continued to resuscitate the stranger.

A siren edged closer.

Chaos.

A larger crowd gathered. Some people filmed the scene on their phones, while others looked on, seemingly as shocked as me. Police arrived, and an ambulance pulled up. Medics scrambled out and surrounded Richard, nudging him out of the way and taking over.

Richard rose and stepped back.

He turned and scanned the faces in the crowd and his face lit up when he saw me. I gave a nod of reassurance, wanting so badly to convey how proud of him I was.

Richard chatted with a policeman for a while. Afterward, he found me in the crowd and we nestled beneath the awning of the hotel.

“Where the hell’s our bus?” he said. “It’s was meant to be your special tour.”

“I think saving a life trumps a bus ride.”

“Still.”

“You could probably do with walking off your adrenaline.”

He led me away from the crowd. “I need a fucking drink.”

We walked hand in hand, dodging other pedestrians, occasionally stopping to window shop, and soaking in the sights.

“Do you love me again, Mia?” he said bashfully.

“I’ll always love you. Silly.”

“It worked! My elaborate plan to win your heart back. Of course getting a man to have a heart attack took some scheming on my part. But it was worth it.”

I slapped his arm. “Not funny, mister.”

“Not funny, sir, I think you meant.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” he said. “Someone’s getting spanked later.”

“I look forward to it, sir,” I said, amused.

Richard opened the door to The French House Pub and a welcome warmth hit us as we made our way through the crowd. The barmen gestured he was just finishing up on another order.  

“So 999 is the equivalent to 911?” I said.

“Yes.”   

“You were amazing.”  

“You were,” he said. “I needed that AED if I was going to have any chance of saving his life. You made that happen, Mia. We make a great team.”

“All credit goes to you.”

“Look where we ended up. It’s fate. My favorite pub.”

I was amazed he wasn’t more shaken up. He seemed so calm, so unfazed. He handed me a twenty pound note to pay for our drinks and headed off to the restroom to wash up.

There was a relaxed air, a homey atmosphere, with everyone chatting as old friends do. Locals, most of them, it seemed, some sipping their glasses of wine and others sipping beer.

Richard nudged me. “That was stupid leaving you alone.”

“I was fine.”

“Cameron would shoot me if he knew.”

“How did you find this place?”

“Discovered it way back.” He picked up our drinks and led us to a corner table.

We huddled close as Richard told me why he loved this place so much.

The deep red walls were covered in eclectic art and Richard told me they’d been painted by its visitors over the years. He went on to say that in the 1800s it had started off as a gin parlor and later evolved into a wine bar, before settling into its current incarnation as a pub. The locals freaked out when there was any rumor of making a change to the place. According to Richard, this was the best pub in London.

My mind snapped back to that man on the ground and the way Richard had jumped in without hesitation, the way he’d masterfully ordered those around him.

“Are you okay?” he said.

“Can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Luckily for me they changed the CPR technique so a rescuer doesn’t have to do mouth to mouth any more. Just chest compressions.”

“And it’s still as effective?”

“Apparently.”

I stared at his beautiful face, that sun kissed complexion, those deep ocean blue eyes. I was in awe.

“I have a feeling he’ll be fine,” he said. “He had a heartbeat when we left. He’ll be in the accident and emergency by now. That’s what they call an ER here.”

I took his hand. “You saved his life.”

“Yeah, well, there’s my dirty little secret out.”

“How do you mean?”

He stared at his glass and reached in to pick out a speck of cork. “I started out as a medical student. I dropped out in my first year. Switched to business and majored in history.”

“You would have made a great doctor.”

“One word. Cadavers.” He cringed. “When it came to my time in the lab…could not fucking do it.”

“I don’t think I could either.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking of the person’s life. Their family. Couldn’t detach. It was around the time I’d met Cameron and he even went out of his way to talk me through one. He was well ahead of me and working his surgical rotation at the time.” Richard raised a hand. “Fuck no. Switched right over to business.”

“What would you have specialized in?”  

“I thought I wanted to be a surgeon. Boy, was I wrong.”

This trip really was opening my eyes to my two favorite men in the world and I was discovering so much about them.

My sweet, loveable Richard.

“You never told me this before?” I said. “Why?”

“It doesn’t exactly help that Cameron’s always the shining example of heroism. Anyway, I put it down to one of life’s experiences.” He shrugged. “I’m sure you have secrets too, Mia?”

“Not any more. My biggest secret was my belief I’d injected myself with cocaine. Cameron was able to put the pieces of the truth together for me.”

I cringed inwardly that I’d brought up his name.  

“If I ever came across that drug dealer,” said Richard. “I’ll kill him.”

“Then you’d go to prison and I’d lose you.”

“You’d visit me thought, right?” He winked.

“I’d be too busy running Enthrall,” I said. “Rearranging your obsessive pen collection.”  

He feigned horror. “Leave my pen collection alone. It’s taken years to get those pens perfect in that holder. Years, I tell you.”

“Mr. OCD.”

“I love order. Everything controlled. Managed. Orchestrated perfectly.”

“Especially your sub?”

“Without a doubt, yes. I’m a demanding master.”

A breath caught in my throat as he reached up and ran his fingertips along my collar. “I’m so happy that things are back to normal again.”

“Me too.”

“Are you really?”

“Yes, sir.” I glanced around at the other people, hoping they’d not caught any of this.

“I’ve rearranged a few things at home for us,” he said. “Made one of the spare bedrooms into a playroom.”  

“Thank you, sir. I can’t wait to see it.”

“I can’t wait to leave you in there all night.” He arched a brow. “Should you deserve it.”

You can do this
, my muse whispered.
You can fulfill him.
 

Think of the pleasure
.

My eyelids fluttered with the thought.

His hand reached beneath the table and glided up and down my inner thigh. “I love seeing you descend into subspace.”

A young couple sat down beside us and Richard withdrew his hand and threw me a grin.

I wondered what Cameron, Shay, and Stephen were doing right now. Probably digging into that apple crumble. Impressing each other with their Ivy League late night banter.

This shadowy doubt was lifting.

“This pub was once the secret meeting place of the French resistance during World War II,” said Richard.

I scanned the room, imagining French spies huddled like us, plotting to save their country. I’d dipped into Richard’s vast collection of history books, many of them about Great Britain, and found myself losing hours.  

“Famous writers once hung out here.” Richard smiled. “You’re sitting in the exact spot where the famous Welsh poet Thomas Dylan used to sit and write. ‘
Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night?’”
 

I shook my head to let him know I’d never heard of him. Again I’d been reminded of Richard’s privileged education.

“
Rage, rage against the dying of the light
,” said Richard, quoting Dylan.

Another shake of my head that it wasn’t familiar.

“Read that with a Welsh accent and it’s quite something.” He pointed at the bar. “Dylan would write a masterpiece then get so drunk he’d leave it behind when he staggered home. Luckily the landlord knew him well and would rescue Dylan’s scribbles, keeping them safe until Thomas came back the next day.”

Taking a sip of wine, I admired Richard’s knowledge. The way he always shared it with me without emphasizing how little I knew.

“There used to be a time when you could smoke in pubs,” he said. “The smokiness added to the atmosphere.”

I imagined those spies surrounded by wafts of smoke, whispering amongst each other, all of them holding onto the hope they’d one day live in peace.

Thoughts of Lance caused me to shiver and I looked around at the many faces, wondering if even now we were being followed.

“You’re too young to remember that time,” said Richard, bringing me back from my musing.