Chapter 7
Calliope
This has got to be the most fun I’ve had at one of my mother’s affairs, ever. In the past, Bert, would follow my mother’s commands and lead me around by the nose to various donors. I’d end up bored to tears. Except for Gerard being an asshole, the evening’s gone off without a hitch.
With Sir Lochlan James as my escort, everything is more exciting and I feel so alive. Never before have I flirted so dangerously and played with fire.
Now, I’m on edge, waiting for something even more wonderful to happen. My bodyguard keeps dropping hints. He insists he’s a gentleman knight and I almost believe him. When we danced, he took me in his arms with such control and grace that lust grew between my legs. The kiss after was chaste, not at all like the delicious one we shared under the table.
My face heats at how forwardly I grabbed his thigh and I hope that’s not why he excused himself and sat next to the billionaire.
To appease my mother, I let Yuri sit next to me and drone on. At first, I thought he was full of shit but he actually seems to know what he’s talking about. Unfortunately, he loves to focus on EMF as a weapon. Of that, I have no interest, whatsoever.
I’m trying to ban it, not figure out how to make the waveforms more lethal. I try to explain and finally give up because the man refuses to listen.
Saved by the sounds of my father’s helicopter, I search for Sir James but he’s nowhere to be found. Then, I feel his presence behind me and smile as he slides me out from under the table like a true gentleman. He holds out a hand to help me stand which I would normally shun. Instead, I’m eager to feel his warm grasp. Then, with his other hand to the center of my back, he leads me out of the dining room.
Even though the gesture has more to do with the safety of my jewelry than me, I shiver at his touch. After stopping to get our coats, we stroll between the snowbanks to the helipad where rotating blades slow.
We wait for my father as sparkling snow falls lightly and yellow halos form around the globed lanterns that line the paver-stone path.
“Dad, it’s so nice to see you.” When he approaches with arms wide, I hug him, the smell of his cologne bringing back happy childhood memories.
He pulls me away and stares. “I swear you get more beautiful every party, Calliope.”
My chest tightens and throat grows tight at his comment, a sad reminder how we see each other but once a year.
My exuberance subdued, I walk with him past the tennis courts, through the back door, and into the lower level of the house that mother has set up for his recital.
We leave our coats on some folding chairs, then stand in front of the fireplace as my father’s personal assistant takes a few photos.
Dad whispers in my ear, “Your new bodyguard is handsome. Is he taken?”
I shake my head. Some things don’t change. “No, and he’s straight.”
“Pity.” Dad strolls between the aisle of chairs, sits at the piano and runs arpeggios up and down the keyboard. Once he’s decided the instrument is in tune, he pats his bench and I dutifully sit.
“How’s your tour?”
“Booked solidly. Why? Worried about your old man?” Smiling, his fingers stop and his eyes meet mine.
“No. Just wondering.” I’m pretty sure I read he has a villa in Tuscany and one near Nice. And if there’s any truth to the tabloids, he has plenty of young men to keep him company between his concerts.
“How long are you staying in Boston?” I hope my tone doesn’t sound as needy as I feel.
He teases the keyboard a bit more and cracks his knuckles. “The overseas flights are tough on my back. I leave in the morning.”
“Listen, if you’re staying overnight, maybe we could have breakfast?” I hate how he frowns, as if my asking is somehow burdensome.
“I’d love to, kitten, but I need to be off early. Perhaps, you could come to Rome in the spring?” He pats my head as if I were four and don’t know when spring comes, he’ll have made other plans that don’t include me.
“That would be lovely.” Standing, I give him a forced smile. “Well... break a leg.”
Because of the magic in the air, somehow, I thought tonight would be different... He would be different. Sighing heavily, I walk back to the front row and sit.
Sir James follows and stands in front of the chair next to mine, his gaze on the hoards coming through the door that leads to the upstairs.
“Are you familiar with all these people?”
