Free Boston Avant-Garde 4: Encore by Kaitlin Maitland

Flaherty? Would he have been able to fight off Flaherty’s guards and prevent the man from taking what he believed he’d bought?
    Shame burned a trail of fire through her system. Dancing was one thing. Dealing with some asshole’s entitlement complex was something else. How could she do this again, even if it meant getting the money she needed for Ma?
    “Stay here,” Jericho ordered the other dancers. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back for you.”
    Before Suri could join her coworkers in a corner of the stairwell, Jericho swept her up into his arms. It felt good to be cuddled like that, picked up as though she weighed no more than a child. Closing her eyes, she rested her cheek against his hard pectoral. She could feel his warm skin through his black dress shirt. He smelled divine, exactly as he had the night before, the way he had an hour ago when he’d spread her thighs and pushed into her pussy for the first time.
    He carried her two flights of stairs without breaking a sweat or even breathing hard. Arriving at a door, he fumbled for his keycard, finally sliding it awkwardly through the reader.
    A wave of mixed feelings hit her when she opened her eyes and realized that Jericho had brought her back to the sultan’s bedchamber where she’d first met him and Dante less than twenty-four hours ago.
    Jericho stopped beside the bed. “You’ll be out of harm’s way in here. I have to handle things downstairs, and then I’ll be back.”
    She wanted to be strong, but she felt too vulnerable. “Please don’t go.”
    He pressed his lips to her forehead, holding her so close she could hear his heart beating. “I have to, Suri. I’ll be back as quickly as I can.”
    A door on the opposite side of the suite swung open, and Dante stepped in. He was dressed in soft black lounge pants and a black tee. His dark eyes were unreadable and his expression blank. He’d tucked his hair behind his ears. His lips were pursed, the scar bisecting the right side of his mouth pale against the warm caramel of his complexion. He looked forbidding. Suri wondered if this was when she would get fired.
    As if she could take anymore crap today.
    “I’m going back to handle Flaherty.” Jericho’s expression revealed nothing when he spoke to Dante. He could’ve been discussing the weather.
    Dante wasn’t any warmer. “I’ll chat with him in a little bit. Have Felix keep him in my reception area until he cools off.”
    Jericho started to leave the way he’d come, pausing when he was halfway out the door. “This isn’t business anymore.”
    Suri wondered what he meant and what it had to do with her, Jericho, and Dante.

Chapter Seven
    Dante was a businessman. He understood how to manipulate a market, sell a product, and use blackmail to get what he wanted. This Flaherty mess should have been simple. The congressman wanted Suri. Dante should have been willing to hand her over on a silver platter, no matter the cost. The potential returns on keeping an influential man like Flaherty happy should have been worth it.
    How can I sell her to keep that selfish bastard where I want him?
    He’d never been asked to make a decision like this when the person who was offered up like collateral had a name and a personality he’d grown to care about. Which was a whole new issue. When had Dante Torres started fixating on his dancers?
    He should have walked away, right then. Left her huddled in the middle of his bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. Let Jericho deal with her.
    Except he couldn’t.
    He’d been looking after number one for years. He’d been weaned on the concept, raised to protect family and self. When his family had betrayed him, he’d had no one but himself to rely on. Until Jericho.
    Dante remembered the first time he’d met Jericho. The man had put his life on the line for a total stranger, no questions asked. Since that night, he had worked his way underneath all Dante’s defenses. Jericho was one of those rare people who was