Page 113 of Enthrall Climax
“Cole believes he is morally superior to us.”
“Is this Hillenbrand?”
He smiled.
“Once, a long time ago, Danton Belfort rescued a submissive from here. Can you rescue me?”
His expression shifted to one of recognition. “Danton?”
Lucas strolled back to the bookcase. He dragged a leather-bound book off the shelf and opened it, turning the pages until he found what he was looking for. He stared down at the page, affection softening his features.
“This man?”
Hurrying over, I looked at a photo of three men. One of them was Cameron, looking so young and handsome in a pinstriped suit. He was standing beside a shockingly beautiful tall man with dark hair and piercing eyes. I’d seen Danton in a photo Scarlet kept in her home. I could see why she’d fallen in love with him.
It was heartbreaking to think a brain tumor had taken him too soon. Cameron and Scarlet had been there when he’d died. Their bond was still strong from that experience. Chastain was also in the photo and he, too, was strikingly handsome back then.
Resting my fingertip on the photo I said, “Danton played the cello.”
“He played for me sometimes.”
“Scarlet still has his cello.”
Chastain held my gaze. “I didn’t know that.”
I hoped I’d not just given away her secret. “She loved him very much.”
“I miss him, too.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I was young and jealous.” He closed his eyes for a beat. “So, now you are here and I have an opportunity to settle a disagreement.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on. There are house rules that we must abide by.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“It can’t be done in here.”
“What are you going to do?”
My heart pounded and my palms felt wet. I stayed close beside him thinking that if I could just push away my fear and find some common ground he might take pity on me.
When the scent of bleach hit me, I froze. Chastain pulled me into a room that looked like a doctor’s office—with a gynecological chair.
I didn’t have time to run, and I was no match for his strength or speed.
He picked me up like a ragdoll and flung me into the chair, strapping me into it. My legs were spread and my ankles strapped into each foot pedal.
“Don’t scream,” he warned.
I struggled. “I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”
“Relax, Mia. It’ll be easier on you.”
“I don’t deserve this. I haven’t done anything wrong!”
