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Authors: Kaitlin Maitland

Tags: #Contemporary Menage

Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore (30 page)

BOOK: Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore
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Two Secret Service agents entered the lobby, easily identifiable by their dark suits and cheesy earpieces. Dante always wondered why they went about as if they’d stepped right out of a Hollywood film. Wouldn’t it be better to go incognito every once in a while?

“Mr. Torres?” The first man approached Dante, bypassing the administrator without so much as a glance. The woman looked miffed, to say the least. “Senator O’Callaghan would like a word.”

“Of course.” Dante gently nudged Suri toward the back hallway.

Jericho briefly met his gaze before nodding at Kim. “I’ll keep an eye on things here.”

Dante and Suri followed the agents to a small room squashed between two closed offices. Liam O’Callaghan was pacing back and forth inside the small space.

“This wasn’t my mother’s doing,” Suri said immediately, her voice flat. “No matter what the idiots working here might tell you.”

O’Callaghan paused and offered her a small smile. “I know that, Suri.”

Dante was ready to get right to the point. “Have you thought over my suggestion?”

Suri looked between Dante and her father, an obvious question in her eyes.

“I have.” O’Callaghan grimaced. “Although I must say that your plan is somewhat less—mercenary—than I’d expected from someone of your reputation.”

Dante wondered how much he should say, except he wanted to be brutally honest with Suri about his motives. He wanted her to know for certain there was nothing to be gained by him in this situation. “This isn’t business, O’Callaghan. This is family. Suri and Jericho are my family, and I take that very seriously.”

O’Callaghan looked thoughtful, his blue gaze resting on his daughter. There was a definite family resemblance, though it was mostly in the eyes. “I was young and stupid when I met your mother, Suri. I listened to my family and not my heart.” He looked at a sheaf of papers resting on the tabletop. “By the time I pulled my head out of my ass, it was too late to do anything. Your mother was happily married, and as far as I knew, you were completely oblivious to me.”

Suri lifted her chin. “And now that you’re forced to acknowledge my existence?”

“I’m not forced. That stupid fuck Flaherty didn’t gain as many points on me with this little stunt as he thought he would. Voters aren’t as dumb as he thinks they are. They know he’s a piece of shit.”

“I’ll second that.” Suri glanced ruefully at Dante. “So why are we here?”

O’Callaghan didn’t mince words. “Because to
not
be here would look very bad on my part.”

“He’s offering to take over the cost of your mother’s care.” Dante wanted to hold Suri, but he didn’t want to push himself at her. He needed to be near her, to have her beside him. “This is your mother’s chance to get the financial help she needs.”

“She doesn’t need help. We’ve always gotten along without it.”

He loved her stubborn nature, but sometimes she could be bullheaded enough to drive him crazy. And what he was about to say was almost certain to get her back up. “Suri, I love you. Jericho loves you. But we can’t continue to watch you dance in public. We just can’t. You belong to us. Not to every guy who walks into the club.”

O’Callaghan waved his hand. “Please, I don’t want to hear any more about that. I need to pretend ignorance later on.”

Dante hated the hurt in her eyes. “Why? Are you ashamed of me?”

“Of course I’m not ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of how I’ve treated you. Do you understand the difference?” He lifted his hand as if he wanted to reach out to her but dropped it to his side when she didn’t reciprocate.

She gazed at her father. “So I’m just supposed to take your charity?”

O’Callaghan put a hand to his face. “Not you, although I’ll give you any allowance you ask for. What I want is to make this right for your mother. I know you don’t believe me, but I love her. I have always loved her. And I don’t care how this affects my current relationships or responsibilities. I want to help Mellie.”

Dante doubted the senator really had no concern to how this might affect his political career. The man wouldn’t be a politician if he thought like that. But his intentions were honest enough.

Suri gave him a long look. “Have you seen her?”

A nurse pushed the door open, wedging a wheelchair into the narrow space. “She’s right here, sweet girl. She wanted to come and see you all.”

“Oh, Nance, she should be sleeping.” Suri leaped to help the nurse get her mother situated in the room.

Dante couldn’t begin to imagine the horror of watching someone you love deteriorate like this. He thought of Suri, of Jericho, of having to watch them suffer. He decided no amount of money was too much to keep them as healthy as possible. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, even throw away his pride and make crazy choices. Like Suri had when she’d agreed to dance at a private party for a lunatic politician.

“Mellie.” Liam O’Callaghan’s face went ashen as he approached a woman he had not seen in decades.

Suri started to put herself between them, but Dante drew her back into the circle of his arms. “Let them be, princess. It will be all right. I promise.”

O’Callaghan seemed to forget they were all in the room with him. Kneeling before Mellie’s wheelchair, he took her shriveled hand in his and put it to his cheek. “There’s never been a spring that I didn’t think of you, sweetheart. I remember our tree in the Common and the long walks down Beacon Street to that little café.”

A tiny noise made Dante realize that Suri was crying. He gathered her close, letting her hide her face against his chest to keep herself together. He couldn’t imagine what this must be like for her.

“I remember when Suri was conceived.” Liam leaned closer, pressing his lips to Mellie’s forehead. “I remember when she was born. I remember how beautiful she was. She still is, Mel. You’ve done a magnificent job raising our daughter.”

 

SURI’S HEART NEARLY burst to hear Liam O’Callaghan say the words she’d longed to hear her whole life. She didn’t want to ruin this moment for them. Not when her mother had waited so long. She got as close to Dante as possible, letting his familiar scent comfort her while she cried silently.

It wasn’t very dignified, soaking his dress shirt with her tears. She didn’t care. As screwed up as her world was, he and Jericho were slowly making things right, one mess at a time.

“I’m going to take care of you, Mellie,” Liam told her mother. “Suri has been taking care of my duty for far too long. Don’t worry about a thing, sweetheart. I’m going to make this right for our little girl.”

Suri hadn’t expected him to be this tender with a woman he hadn’t seen in forever. Her mother’s poor health had leached her beauty away, but he didn’t seem to mind. That was what love was supposed to mean. That was what Suri wanted. And— she peeked up at Dante—it was what she had a double dose of.

Mellie made a noise, lifting her hand to touch Liam’s face. He caught her hand, holding it against his cheek. “I’m not young and handsome anymore, but I still love you like I did when I was a young man.”

Her mother hadn’t formed actual words in ages. The effort to work her stiff muscles was incredible. But now, Mellie was trying to speak.

Nance leaned in, trying to hear. “She says she forgives you.”

Stunned, Suri watched the tears roll down Liam O’Callaghan’s cheeks. “Thank you, Mellie.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

They’d been at the nursing home for nearly two hours. Dante and Jericho had been swapping off between Suri and Kim, keeping an eye on them both. Liam had already made financial arrangements with Nicolette to pay Mellie’s expenses and get her the best experimental meds possible. There were only a few details to iron out.

“No more dancing, Suri.” Liam’s face was set in stone.

She didn’t like being told what to do. The guy had long ago lost out on being able to boss her around like a real father. “But I like dancing.”

“It’s a political nightmare, all right?”

“But I have this special exhibition tonight.”

“Suri, I’m serious here. There’s an election going on today.”

She blew him a raspberry. “You think I care about some senatorial election?”

“You want Flaherty to win?”

No, definitely not.

“I heard you on the cello the other day at the fund-raiser.” Liam gave her a real smile, not a fake politician’s smile. “You remind me of my grandmother.”

Her musical ability had always been a bit of an anomaly in the Robertson clan. Hearing about actual relatives who shared the interest was surreal.

“She played with the Boston Symphony Orchestra. She was a cellist as well.”

Suri felt ten years old again and awed to be a part of something so much larger than herself. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Liam smiled again.

“Thank you.” He was trying. So would she. “Not just for picking up the tab. For accepting me.”

“I’m sorry my sister dragged you into all of this.” Suri still didn’t know what to do about Kim.

Liam shook his head. “Flaherty dragged us all into this. Honestly, I’m glad.”

“You know, even if I stop dancing, I’m still in a committed relationship with two men, neither of them strictly American and one an exiled Persian prince.” Suri might have enjoyed telling him that just a little too much.

“God help me.” But he was still smiling. “Dante is a political refugee, you know. Has been for years. Our government helped set him up with his new identity because his own people want him dead. Not the other way around.”

Flaherty’s threats had been empty. It made her angry and relieved all at the same time. The congressman probably could have sold Dante out, but it would have ended any further political aspirations. She took a deep breath. It didn’t matter anymore anyway. It didn’t change anything. Suri offered her father what she hoped was a daughter-like smile. “Didn’t know what you started with Dante, did you?”

“Definitely not. I sincerely doubt anyone realized he’d be the guy holding everybody’s balls in a vise.”

Liam was preparing to go outside and make a statement while Dante and Jericho escorted Suri out back to Jericho’s truck. They’d leave the nursing home, and Liam would use the press to clinch his victory over Flaherty. The idiot’s strategy had turned around and bitten him in the ass. It never paid to try to outmanipulate the master.

“So I’ll see you around?” Suri hated sounding like some needy orphan kid, but that was sort of how she felt.

“You’ll be hearing from me often.” Liam straightened his tie. “I’ll be checking to see that you’ve retired from Asylum’s stage lineup.”

“Now you’re acting like a real father.” Her throat constricted with emotion as she watched him walk confidently through the front doors.

“Let’s go, princess.” Dante appeared in the back hallway, leaning against the doorjamb. “Your monster truck awaits.”

“What about my sister?”

“Nance is keeping her here until everything cools down.”

Kim was a grown woman. Suri couldn’t keep dragging her through life. But it was still hard to let go of that responsibility.

“Come on, you’ve got a special show to put on.”

Dante’s grin sent a thrill directly to her pussy. She could think of several shows she wanted to put on. “Thought I was supposed to retire from dancing. That was the agreement, was it not?”

He gave a dismissive wave. “You’re talking about the show down in the lounge on Three? I hired a professional belly dancer for that.”

Startled, she let him tug her down the hallway toward the back doors. Several of the residents waved, and she returned their greetings out of habit more than anything else. She was still surprised he’d hired someone to take her place. “So what show do I have to put on?”

“Oh, you’re still doing the belly dance. You’re just going to do a private show for two.”

* * * *

Jericho was glad Senator O’Callaghan had put a moratorium on Suri’s dancing in public. There was no way he could’ve stood by and let her move like this in front of a crowd of horny strangers.

Sheer, deep gold fabric set off her creamy skin. The skirt rode low across her hips, split in the middle and attached at her ankles. Tinkling coins and chains of bells hung across her belly, anchored to her tiny top. Each quick step made her pert breasts quiver like an enticing present he wanted to unwrap. Muscles flowed with each note, her hips swinging in complex patterns that set the bells on her costume to shivering. Jericho was transfixed.

“I’m so hard I’m not going to be able to walk,” Dante commented from Jericho’s left side.

They were seated on the chaise lounge. Dante had pulled back the rugs to expose the wood floor beneath. Suri danced in the middle of their room before the fire, only a few steps away from the bed.

“I want to watch her finish.” Dante shifted the growing bulge in his crotch. “I know she spent some time planning the whole routine, but I’m getting impatient for the finale.”

Jericho’s cock pushed against the fly of his slacks. Between the scent of Dante’s arousal only a few inches away and the sight of Suri’s enticing body spinning in the center of the room, he was drowning in excitement. He was adjusting his erection when an idea popped into his mind. “You think she’d be able to concentrate if we started masturbating while we watch?”

Dante’s chuckle lasted only long enough for him to unbutton and unzip his pants and palm his dick. “I like the way you think.”

When Jericho undid his pants, his cock burst from his boxers as if it had been trying to claw its way into the open. He groaned as he closed his hand around the iron-hard shaft. His skin was hot to the touch. Precum already leaked from the hole at the tip. He swirled his fingers through the liquid, loving the velveteen feel of it against his skin.

Suri made a tiny noise but didn’t stop her routine. She danced closer, spinning and shaking until every inch of her lithe body was trembling with movement and bells.

He watched her move, stroking his cock in a matching rhythm. The sinuous motion of her limbs mimicked the way she moved during sex. Jericho’s cock throbbed, longing to feel the resilience of her pussy when he penetrated her.

Suri’s dance grew more erotic. She pressed her palms against her skin, sliding them down her belly to her pelvis. Her hips gyrated in a blatant invitation. Holding out her hand, she crooked one finger. Jericho didn’t know who she intended the gesture for, but he answered it.

BOOK: Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore
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