Page 1 of Enthrall Ecstasy
This was a place you came to escape a scandal.
I passed the company logo for “Quinn Public Relations and Consulting.”
Being summoned to a meeting with an influential figure wasn’t unusual. Very often this was how the elite asked to enter Enthrall.
But I’d been around long enough to know this was about something else.
“Your reputation precedes you.” Carrie Quinn welcomed me into her swanky office. A business degree hung on the back wall. “You’re quite the charismatic figure, Mr. Gardner.”
I hated this meeting already.
Quinn’s PR approach was apparently ruthless.
“Goodness, you’re tall,” she said.
I offered a polite smile.
I was rough around the edges, maybe, but I looked good in Armani—the suit I’d worn today. I took pleasure in challenging expectations.
She looked me up and down.
Her stare lingered on my beard. Recent weeks had leaned toward chaotic, my lack of shaving the only indication life had worn me down.
She wouldn’t know that, though. To her, I’d merely look ruggedly handsome and aloof.
November rain lashed against the window. I’d barely noticed the downpour.
In a turquoise blouse and tight-fitting pencil skirt, wearing knee-high boots, she’d pass for a Dominatrix in other circles. I clocked her age at forty. She carried a confidence that told me she thrived under stress.
For some reason, I was on her radar.
She strolled by me to get to the door. “We’ve never met.”
“I don’t believe so.”
A waft of sultry perfume lingered in the air.
She wielded that scent to subdue clients. Get them right where she wanted them—obedient to her demands.
After closing the door, she headed back to her desk and sat on the edge. “There will be no record of this. No one need know you and I crossed paths, Mr. Gardner.”
My curiosity spiked. “I can live with that.”
She gave a nod. “Thank you for your service. Navy SEALs, right?”
My response was only a polite smile, not wanting to trigger a conversation about Afghanistan. I’d left that experience in my rearview.
Not my friends, though. War leaves scars no one sees. But in each other, we recognized cuts that went deep.
I was good at slaying chaos.
Much like Carrie.
Once someone like me reaches their thirties, little tends to surprise you anymore.
“You served alongside Henry Cole.”
The comment piqued my interest.
