Page 16 of Enthrall Secrets
Chapter 5
Harvard Years
“I’M COMING TO get you,” snapped Cameron. “Where the hell are you, Scarlet?”
“I’m ready for this.” I rubbed my jetlagged eyes. “You have to trust my judgment.”
“You’re not going to Le Maison de Plaisir. We’ve been over this.”
“Too late.” I leaned against the wall, next to the phone. “I’m already here.”
“Paris?”
“Just landed at Charles de Gaulle Airport.” Turning, I glanced at the line of cars to see if my Rolls Royce limousine had arrived.
The moon looked majestic in the starlit sky, and I felt as though it welcomed me. Visiting this exhilarating city was like a dream come true. And I was so proud of myself for having taken this leap of faith.
A recent downpour had left pools of water sparkling on the pavement; the scent of fresh rain lingered. Car horns blared - the hustle and bustle of travelers coming and going, their fashion so elegant, so chic. I regretted wearing my worn jeans and short jacket. At least I’d prepared for the chill by donning my woolen scarf.
Anticipation curled in my chest. This felt so right.
At twenty, I couldn’t drink at home but halfway across the world I’d be knocking back Cointreau and cocktails as much as I liked.
Cameron sighed heavily. “I should have known you were up to no good when you dyed your hair auburn.”
“Forgive me?”
“I’m calling Monsieur Francois. He won’t let you in.”
“Okay.”
“Not worried?”
“I can’t hear you,” I blurted out. “There’s a plane taking off. Hold on.”
A 747 engine roared overhead.
The thrill of hearing Master Cole’s domineering tone of voice fired me on. I’d always gotten a kick out of riling him up. Though this was by far the most daring adventure I’d ever embarked on, and I’d had some pretty wild weekends with the other subs from D'envoûtement, Cameron’s club in Harvard Square.
I’d proven I could play the perfect submissive, that I’d experienced the best training and served my masters well. I’d loved every luscious moment of being subjugated to the extreme.
Still, there was that cruel unspoken truth: only a submissive who graduated from the most exclusive house in France was thought worthy enough to serve the society’s elite dominants. If I pleased them I’d earn my promotion. I’d come back a dominatrix.
Cameron had told me this was a myth, but I knew he was trying to protect me.
He really did have a way with words, an artful persuasion when changing the subject. Apparently he was being wooed by the Psych Department at Harvard to study psychiatry. They were trying to lure him with compliments that would make any student blush, saying he had a promising career equal to that of Sigmund Freud himself. Cameron was mulling it over, taking it all in stride.
Like most brilliant men, he hid his kinky side well - more to protect those who came to find solace in his sanctuary.
He’d also been the one who encouraged me to apply to study at Harvard, after he’d learned I was waitressing at the city’s most popular bar, despite my G.P.A. of 4.0. Before meeting him, I’d been traveling around the States with no real direction. Seeing my potential, he’d pulled some strings, which had morphed into a miracle. I was about to become a psychology major, starting my freshman year at Harvard in the fall.
If I was even still alive by autumn.
I had set my sights on darker adventures - the self-destructive kind.
Like giving up and giving in to my death wish.
And right now my only saving grace was D'envoûtement.
