Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore (20 page)

“Trust? How can you buy that bullshit? Could you ever trust a man that much?” There was so much pain in Selena’s voice, too much for someone so young.

“I’m trusting one that much right now.” Suri’s steady voice finally got through to the grieving wife.

“What do you mean?”

“Jericho is mine.” She motioned to Dante. “And his.”

Selena stiffened against Jericho, pulling back to look up into his face. “Is that true?”

Jericho didn’t miss a beat. “They’re mine, and I’m theirs.”

A surge of feeling left Dante unable to draw breath. He moved closer to Suri and tugged her into his embrace. Her body meshed with his, every part fitting against him like second skin.

“And you trust him?” Selena scoffed. “Your man, my ass. I’m sitting in his lap. I could strip naked and fuck him a dozen different ways, and he wouldn’t tell me no.”

“You’re wrong.” There was no uncertainty in Suri’s tone. “You could strip naked, but he’d never fuck you.”

“She’s right,” Jericho told Selena gently. “An offer of comfort doesn’t guarantee attraction.”

“What, are men attracted to anything but me?” There were no more tears. Selena leaped to her feet, anger twisting her features into an ugly mask.

Suri didn’t flinch. “It isn’t you. You’re going to get past Jackson’s public put-down. He’s the one with the problem.”

The angry bride seemed to deflate. Within the circle of Dante’s arms, Suri relaxed. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent and wishing they could be done with this whole situation. He was ready to spend the rest of the night curled up with his lovers.

“I’m sorry for coming here like this.” Selena looked resigned, as if she’d worked something out in her head. “I’m not sure I would’ve had your courage had our positions been reversed.”

“I couldn’t do it alone,” Suri admitted. “The right relationship makes you stronger. Your brother and sister are prime examples of that.”

“I thought they were crazy to choose love over money and position. Now I’m trying like hell to get out of this bullshit marriage, no matter how much money and position it costs me.” Selena walked toward the office doors. “Jackson refuses to pay the penalty outlined in our prenup, and my mother refuses to let it go.”

Suri couldn’t imagine enough money in the world to keep her in a relationship with a man like Jackson. “You’re a grown woman. Don’t let your mother tell you what to do.”

“You don’t know my mother. Jackson is suing me for what happened at the wedding. He claims the embarrassment is worth some sort of settlement.” Selena put her palms against her cheeks. “Mother is already pissed because she thinks I screwed up a perfectly good opportunity. According to her, fidelity is overrated.” She pushed her way out of Dante’s office, the door swinging shut behind her.

SURI WAITED UNTIL the door closed to fling herself at Jericho. He was still on the sofa. She would’ve tackled him had he not had his arms extended, waiting for her.

Jericho gathered her close and kissed her hair. “Nothing happened, Suri. Please believe me when I say that.”

“I believe you.” And she did. But the way it’d made her feel to see another woman cuddled into his strong embrace! How was it possible to feel something so acutely when she’d known him less than a week?

Especially since I’m going to lose him when he finds out what I’ve done.

Dante sank down on the love seat’s other cushion, his head in his hands. “This was all my doing.”

There was nothing of her Dante in his expression. He looked defeated, and Dante was never defeated. Suri shifted in Jericho’s embrace and reached out to the exiled Persian prince. In the short time she’d known them, she’d come to trust them both more than anyone else.

Dante cupped her face and smoothed her hair back from her forehead. She hadn’t bothered to do anything but brush it after taking it down. Now the long tresses were a tangled mess, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“You aren’t the morality police, Dante,” Jericho said quietly.

“I made Nicolai gamble for a woman who was already his because that worthless bastard used my rules to try to get what he wanted.” The anguish on Dante’s face made Suri hurt for him.

The corner of Jericho’s sensual mouth tilted up. “But would you have really let him win?”

“If the game had gone his way, I would have had to.”

Suri hadn’t been at the club that night. She’d only heard a garbled third- or fourth-hand account of the blackjack game on Level Four that had come about because a spoiled rich brat had wanted a woman who belonged to someone else. She just hadn’t realized the brat was Jackson Wilhelm.

Jericho removed his hand from the back of the sofa and gently threaded his fingers through Dante’s dark hair. “Letting Wilhelm win and allowing him to actually claim his prize are two completely different things. What would you have done had he gained the right to pursue Desiree against her will?”

“Thrown his ass to the curb for attempted rape.” The fierce edge in Dante’s tone made Suri think it might have been a rough trip for Jackson.

“Where is he now?” Suri wondered if that had been Jackson’s fate that night.

“In holding with Felix.”

Holding was an area in the lowest portion of the club, where water from the Neponset seeped through the limestone bricks to make a dark, dank dungeon. There were two “cells” down there. They weren’t for employees, though Suri had heard more than once that some of the higher-end clients had asked to use them for role-playing. Personally, she had no desire to visit the nasty space. Better to make love in a sultan’s palace than his prison.

“What will you do?” Jericho’s quiet question was loaded with meaning.

This wasn’t just about a spoiled heir with entitlement issues. Dante was always willing to embrace the idea that he lived a mercenary existence. Suri would have been hard-pressed not to agree that it was sometimes true. Asylum was full of stories about his cold, calculating decisions based solely on money and power. He was known for it. But she couldn’t buy in to the idea that there was nothing else to him. Not since the night he’d walked barefoot into his private quarters and treated her so gently, even though she’d been a trespasser.

“In the old days, I would have beaten him senseless and left him in an alley in Southie.”

Jericho didn’t show any response to the casual mention of violence. “But?”

“But he’d just get up and feel vindicated.”

“What would really affect him?” Suri sorted through everything she knew about the man. “He spends so much time trying to prove his manhood, you might think he was actually impotent.”

There was a very loaded pause in the room. This wasn’t the first time she’d gotten the impression that Jericho and Dante were having a conversation while very pointedly not having one. Now definitely qualified as one of those times.

Jericho had gone still, his gaze locked on Dante. Though there were only a few feet between them on the love seat, it might well have been miles. Dante’s expression was pensive. She had never seen him so deep in thought.

“I never considered the business angle of that situation, Jericho,” Dante finally said.

What are they talking about?

“I find that difficult to believe.” Jericho’s mocking tone left Suri cold. “An exclusive party for your wealthiest clientele seems like a lucrative deal for the house.”

Suri was at a loss as to how they’d swung from the topic of Jackson Wilhelm to exclusive parties.

Dante seemed to realize she was lost. “I came up with the idea to offer our high rollers a special exhibition of your belly-dancing skills.” He launched off the love seat and paced in front of them. “I don’t know where you learned, but you dance like you were born to it. And I should know.”

Finally, she could contribute something to the discussion. “Ma worked in clubs all over the city when I was growing up. Her friend Zulieka was from Morocco. She taught me when I was little. I wanted to dance in school, but my scholarship was for cello. So cello it was.”

“Well, you’re amazing.” Dante’s face eased into a warm smile. “I just thought you might be able to start doing exhibitions instead of stripping on the main stage. The money would be better.”

Hope bloomed in Suri’s heart. This could be the answer to her financial issues. If this was as lucrative as he said, she could tell Flaherty to shove it. No Flaherty, no lies, Ma cared for, and Suri free to be with Dante and Jericho. If they could just get this little speed bump figured out.

Dante pointed one accusing finger at Jericho. “This bastard is convinced I’m trying to spin my exhibition idea just to make a quick buck for the club.”

“Aren’t you?” Jericho leaped up, getting right in Dante’s face.

Suri felt as if she were watching two rams face off right before they locked horns. All things considered, it was probably better for her to stay on the sofa.

“You’re the one who told me that my manipulation isn’t always selfish.” Dante’s dark eyes widened with sarcasm. “What? Did you change your mind?”

“I haven’t changed my mind. But if you’re so hell-bent on having a conscience, use it.” Jericho’s retort made Suri’s ears ring.

Dante’s face was stone-cold, but there was so much emotion churning underneath, she could feel it about to bubble over. “You don’t think I’m tired of feeling guilty? I specialize in letting people do the kinds of things that make me feel unspeakably bad afterwards. In the last week, I’ve watched three disasters happen just from one fucking poker game. I don’t want to live like this anymore.”

“Then lay your cards on the table,” Jericho demanded. “All of them.”

There was a moment when Suri thought Dante might leave the room. The tension was so thick she could have sliced it like pie. Then he folded.

“I have proof that Jackson Wilhelm is, in fact, impotent on occasion.” Dante’s voice was so quiet she almost missed the qualifying remark on the end. Occasionally. Still, that explained so much of his overcompensating behavior.

The rest of his words sank in. “You have proof? What kind of proof?”

“Video.”

“You videoed him having sex?” Shock didn’t explain the knot in her belly. That was a massive violation of someone’s privacy. What if Dante had filmed her?

“It’s not like that.” Even after all their angry words, it was Jericho who jumped to Dante’s defense. “Asylum offers that service if both parties are interested. The waiver even states there will be a copy held on file here at the club, and nobody ever seems to mind.”

“Until they can’t get it up,” Dante commented. “Which he couldn’t.”

Dante dealt in information. Suri had always known it. Now she knew what power Asylum held over the Wilhelms. “What about the woman he was with?”

“This was during her engagement to a very high-profile gentleman. She’s not eager to let the footage hit the Internet anytime soon.” Dante sank back down to the love seat. “That video has been quite the bargaining chip.”

It hit her then what Dante could do with that kind of power. Not for himself, but for Selena. “What are you going to do?”

He’d been staring off into space. Coming back to the moment, he cupped her cheek. “Being with the two of you has changed the way I think about things.”

Jericho squatted before them and rested his forearms against their legs. “So make the right choice.”

Dante leaned forward and touched his lips to Jericho’s. “Call them.”

“Are you kidding me?” Joshua Breckenridge stabbed his fingers through his blond hair. “You dragged us down here in the middle of the night to
blackmail
Wilhelm into dropping his countersuit and signing papers?”

Jericho didn’t move from his post behind Dante’s desk. He’d spent more hours than he’d care to add up leaning against the built-in bookshelves while watching Dante negotiate.

Across the room, Seth Overton faced the windows and stared into the darkness outside. Odd, but Jericho got the feeling Overton and Breckenridge spent a lot of time employing the same good guy/bad guy routine that Jericho and Dante did. The major difference being on what sides of the law the two parties tended to operate.

“Your client gained entrance to my club this evening and caused quite a scene.” Dante lounged back in his leather chair. “Don’t you think it’s time to use any means necessary to get her out of this situation?”

“That doesn’t include blackmail, Torres.” Overton didn’t turn away from the windows.

“Since you’ve nothing to blackmail him with, it’s nothing to worry your pretty heads about.” Dante’s voice dripped sarcasm. “Do you want to deal or not?”

It was obvious that they did. They wouldn’t have been at Asylum otherwise. Jericho was still reeling over the fact that Dante was willing to throw away a huge piece of leverage in service to a woman who had no hold on him. Did his partner really feel as if he was responsible for her predicament? Or was this just one of those inexplicable things Dante did for the greater good?

Joshua didn’t spare Seth a glance. “We’ll take the offer.”

The immediate agreement could only mean the two savvy lawyers had made their choice before they’d arrived. Jericho waited until Dante swung around and gave him a nod.

Sometimes this was the aspect of their relationship that Jericho hated. He left the office through the main doors and accessed a narrow iron staircase left from the building’s earliest days as a factory.

It was dark and damp, the brick walls leaching water from the Neponset as it traversed its narrow bed. Jericho’s tread was light, following the well-known route through the club’s underground maze.

Cool air reached his skin through the fabric of his dress shirt and slacks. This area had been used for storage at one time in the factory’s history. Given the construction of the area and the building’s age, Jericho suspected it had also served a darker purpose.

“Finally,” Felix muttered when Jericho turned the last corner. “I hate it down here.”

“You can go back up.” Jericho clapped the burly bouncer on his shoulder. “Keep to the regular schedule. Start closing at four thirty and then release Levels Three and Four at five like usual.”