Boston Avant-Garde 5: Bellicoso (12 page)

Seraph seemed to recover her moxie. “You forget who holds all the cards around here, you ungrateful whelp.”

For fifteen years she’d held that belief, and he hadn’t bothered to correct her. The sensation of change swept him again, this time making him feel as if it loosened the chains binding him to Seraph’s service.

“One phone call from me and you’re in federal custody.” She closed the distance between them, getting right in his face. In her heels she could meet him eye to eye, but when she expected him to break and look away, he held her gaze without flinching. He was no submissive to cower and play coy. He was the Demon of Triptych, for fuck’s sake!

“Mei-ling!” Seraph barked.

Demon had almost forgotten the other woman kneeling so unobtrusively beside the longue. Now she hurried forward on bare feet. She was slim to the point of emaciation, her face painted, and her expression one of bewildered resignation.

He’d seen that expression before. Long ago in another time and place, when he’d been forced to participate in horrible crimes he would much rather forget.

“Mei-ling and I are taking a little trip to New York.” Seraph reached out and yanked the girl closer, running one palm over the tiny Chinese woman’s breast. “You stay here and get Malachi to sign on the dotted line.”

He couldn’t rip his gaze away from Mae-ling’s alabaster complexion. She reminded him so much of his sister. “And if I fail?”

“You’ll wind up like these two,” Seraph said with glee. “Now get the fuck out of here before I let Jessica use this whip to teach you some manners.”

Demon didn’t even bother with a cursory bow. He backed two steps, keeping one eye on Seraph and the other on Mei-ling. The girl’s beseeching eyes would haunt him, but he couldn’t do anything about her predicament now. Not until he knew more. Not until he had a way out for him and his family.

Chapter Eleven

“Where are you going again?”

Selena glanced into the mirror of Mattie’s dressing table, hiding a grin when she saw her friend picking at the dried paint clinging to her fingernails. Sometimes Selena wondered if her friend was ever fully focused on anything. Mattie spent half of any given conversation thinking about sketches for her next painting.

“I’m going to a club.” Selena carefully outlined her lips before applying the hot-pink lipstick that perfectly matched her dress.

Mattie perched on the edge of her bed and folded her arms. “And that’s what you’re wearing?”

Compared to the baggy, paint-stained overalls Mattie wore over her hand-stenciled camisole top, Selena’s dress looked like a little much. Or too little depending on how you viewed it.

“It’s winter and it’s snowing. Plus it’s a Monday night. Nobody goes clubbing on Monday nights. You know that, right?”

Selena scooped her curled hair into a high ponytail and anchored it with a clip that matched the chrome ring providing the most substantial portion of her outfit. She’d found the sleek, ruffled-hem dress at a shop in New York. It had a plunging neckline and an open back that made a bra completely impossible. Tiny straps secured the front of the dress to the hoop nestled between her shoulder blades. The hem hovered just below the crotch of her black satin panties.

Mattie picked up the silver heels Selena had chosen for the night. “You sure you don’t want to borrow my boots? You’re going to lose a toe in these. Either to the weather or some shit dancer.”

Lars stuck his head inside the bedroom. “Are you ready yet?”

“Hard to believe it’s taken her this long to put on so little fabric, huh?” Mattie said.

“You’re not going with us?” Lars gave Mattie one of his heart-stopping grins.

She continued to be immune to his boyish charm. “I’ll pass.”

“Come on, Mattie, it won’t be the same without you.” Lars smoothed the lapel of his jacket. He’d apparently bought a whole new wardrobe at Savile Row before coming back to the States.

“I know.” Mattie’s tone dripped syrupy sweetness. “Who will warn all the unsuspecting females about your bullshit lines?”

Unless Selena very much missed her guess, there was a touch of hurt in Lars’s gaze before he plastered his “unaffected rake” visage into place. Had she not been so busy trying to figure out her own shit, she might be tempted to push the two of them together just to see the sparks fly.

Selena stood up and plucked her heels out of Mattie’s hands. “Don’t wait up.”

“Fine, but you or Mr. Cool here need to text me and let me know you’re okay. No more nights like we had before.” Mattie looked utterly disgruntled. As a confirmed homebody, the idea of staying out all night was abhorrent to her anyway. “I was totally freaking out by the time you walked through that door at three a.m.”

“Sweet!” Lars pulled out his phone. “Mattie just gave you permission to give me her number.”

Mattie didn’t miss a beat. “It’s
so
much easier to block later if I know what it is.”

Selena brushed a kiss over Mattie’s cheek. Her friend had a sprinkling of purple paint across the bridge of her nose. “I promise not to let you worry.”

She and Lars tromped down the narrow staircase from the upstairs of Mattie’s ancient Cape Cod to the main level. Selena grabbed a black embroidered shawl and flung it over her shoulders. The expensive organza studded with rhinestones and trimmed in tassels was so at odds with her hot-pink minidress she half expected to be accosted by the fashion police.

“Mixing the old with the new, I see.” Lars smirked as he closed the back door behind them.

“Just get in the car.” She threw her keys at him.

He snatched them right out of the air. “I get to drive?”

“It’s next to impossible to drive a stick in these heels.”

Lars opened her door with an exaggerated bow. “I wondered why you were letting me tag along.”

He was already settled behind the wheel and spinning gravel out of Mattie’s driveway by the time Selena got her seat belt fastened. The snow had just started sticking to the pavement, the car’s headlamps illuminating the swirling wall of white that seemed to go on forever.

“Are you okay driving in this weather?” she asked.

He tilted his head to give her a dirty look. She took that to mean he was too insulted to respond. It was a valid question. Although he was a boy, Lars had been as pampered as she was. The Aasen males like Lars and her brother had been given more freedom than Selena and Desiree ever had. Not that Erik had managed to make her mother happy with it. He’d gone and married a music teacher with no family, connections, or money.

At least he’s happy.

Lars’s parents had handled the overseas business transactions for Aasen International. It had kept his family abroad for most of his life. She wondered if he was happy he’d followed the family track, or if he wanted more.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He glanced over as he left the snowy side roads for the highway.

“With your trust fund? I’d think you could afford a little more than a penny.”

“A girl with your trust fund shouldn’t care if it’s a penny or a million bucks.”

She decided the only way to find out anything was to ask. “Are you pissed you had to fly back to the States just to hold the reins while my brother plays daddy?”

“You don’t sugarcoat it, do you?”

“Not when I want to know something.”

She’d known Lars a long time. Long enough to be absolutely certain he was preparing to lie to her. He seemed to be mentally sorting through possible answers while trying to find the most plausible one.

“I don’t mind helping out. I needed to come back and handle some business of my own anyway.” He gave her a careless grin. “This way your brother has to foot the bill for my travel. And I do have rather expensive taste.”

That really didn’t mesh with the boy she’d known growing up. “No, you don’t.”

“People change.” Clearly, her words had thrown him off balance.

She swapped tactics. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Are you?”

“You just seem interested in Mattie, that’s all.” Selena fiddled with the ruffled hem of her dress.

He didn’t even bother to hide the regret on his face. “Mattie is a good girl. She’ll find a decent guy and settle down with a house full of kids who will finger paint classical works of art all over her walls.”

“But you can’t settle down like that?”

“Could you?”

Selena stared outside at the white shifting like salt on a black canvas. “I thought so.”

“Jackson was never going to be the man for you.”

“Mom thought so.”

He snorted. “Excuse me, but your mother has zero experience with lasting relationships. If I were you, I’d take a page out of Erik and Desiree’s book.”

There were certain things about Erik and Desiree’s relationships that appealed—fidelity was one of them. However, she was far more intrigued by what she’d seen the night she’d finally managed to get Jackson to sign their divorce documents. Who would have thought the two notorious owners of a club like Asylum could be involved with one woman? That moment had changed her thinking for good. Selena didn’t want an average relationship. It wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t fill the giant hole eating her up inside.

“What now?” Lars sounded wary.

“Could you see yourself in a relationship with a woman and another man?”

He cranked his neck so far in her direction that the little car swerved. He steadied his hands on the wheel and took a deep breath. “We call that one a devil’s three-way.”

“We who?”

“I don’t know. Men?” He looked oddly uncomfortable, like he was deliberately concealing something from her.

She was disappointed that her cousin was so stereotypically predictable, especially when it seemed as though he was parroting someone else’s ideas while hiding his own. “I bet you wouldn’t turn down sex with two chicks.”

He shrugged. “It’s not really that great.”

“Oh my God. You’ve done that?” Her pussy tingled as she contemplated the idea of being with more than one lover at once.

“Money buys everything but love and happiness, Se. It should be about the relationship, not the sex.”

“What about letting someone tie you up?”

“Curious, are we?” The sardonic expression on his face wiped away any resemblance he had to her brother. Erik was cynical; Lars was just hard. “I wondered why you were going back to Triptych. Apparently you’re interested in what’s
below
the club level. Gee, that doesn’t scare me at all.”

“So you know about the Underground?” Her nipples peaked beneath her dress. Fabric that had been soft as silk a moment ago now felt like coarse sackcloth. She clenched her hands, remembering the sensation of gripping the handles on the table. Of Malachi’s hands in her pussy, making her come.

“The Underground isn’t some euphemism for playground, kiddo.” There was a layer of tension beneath his words that gave her goose bumps. “They do illegal shit down there, Selena.”

She thought about Malachi stepping in to keep James What’s His Name in line, about two men who’d risked their lives when Jackson pulled a gun. “They have rules.”

He scoffed, the sound making her bristle.

“Malachi wouldn’t let just anything go on down there.”

His hand closed around her wrist in a painful grip. “Are you talking about Malachi Kingston? How the hell do you know him?”

“What is your problem?” She ripped her wrist out of his grasp. “We met the other night.”

“Son of a bitch!” He was muttering almost incoherently beneath his breath, growling like a rabid dog. “Of course you know him! Fuck! First the Demon of Triptych and now Malachi Kingston. Why am I even surprised?”

Lars was insane. That was the only possible explanation. “I don’t know if his last name is Kingston. He never said. And who the hell is the Demon of Triptych?”

“Yen!” Lars burst out. “Yaojing Yen is the Demon of Triptych. His name means demon in Cantonese.”

The exited the freeway, heading toward South Boston. The wipers doggedly pushed snow off the windshield as they drove.

Her brain was spinning, trying to connect the dots. She could reconcile the idea of Malachi belonging to Triptych in some sort of managerial capacity. She’d met him there. But Yen? How could some random guy she’d met at an arts school be linked to Triptych? Surely stuff that coincidental did not happen in real life.

He was the other hero in the street that night. A man called Demon risked his skin to save mine.

She thought about Yen, about the way her body had reacted to his presence. Heat licked over her skin, culminating in an ache between her legs that made her womb clench with hunger. She’d half jokingly imagined a fantasy involving him and Malachi. Apparently that night at Asylum had really affected her. Especially since she’d discovered the hot head of security was unavailable to her because he was screwing the club owner and one of the dancers. Being rejected out of hand like that had made her burn with one goal. To be unconditionally wanted.

Yen knew about me and Malachi. That’s why he seemed so interested in me.

So if Yen was Lars’s ridiculous Demon of Triptych, did that mean he was Malachi’s boss? Was he mad that they’d used the special training room? Was that against the rules? What if Yen wanted to share?

Let’s be honest here, I’m totally hoping that’s a possibility.

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask Lars why he knew anything about the Underground, but she was too focused on the possibilities waiting for her at the illicit club. Malachi was so bold. She couldn’t imagine him submitting to anyone. Yet, there’d been a softer side she’d only barely begun to sense. He’d understood her, the weird longings she barely grasped herself. He’d known how much she’d get turned on by bondage before she had. It was as if he’d experienced those same emotions.

There isn’t one submissive fiber in Yen’s body.

The man probably sweated pure power. It was what had drawn her so forcefully to him. She craved it. Not to possess it, just to be near it, as if by being in close proximity it might somehow help her make sense out of her own life.

Fuck! I’m as crazy as Lars.

Which brought her back around to how bizarrely well-informed her cousin was about Yen and Malachi. Selena was starting to wonder if she knew Lars as well as she’d thought. For a guy who’d stopped in for a random, unexpected visit to the city, he had a lot of information about what she’d thought was an obscure Boston club.