The Boyfriend (The Boss 7)

Neil unhooked a velvet rope and opened one of the enormous doors to the West Gallery. We stepped through, and he fastened the barrier again. Another set of doors stood open between two large paintings of rich historical dead people. El-Mudad walked out, his arms held wide.

I ran to him and jumped up, locking my legs around his waist and taking his face between my hands to kiss him. He took a step backward but maintained his balance, his strong arms boosting me up even higher. I sank my fingers into his silky black hair. “I missed you so much!”

His hold tightened on me. “It’s been centuries,” he whispered against my lips, kissing me again.

Neil stepped up beside us and put his arm around El-Mudad’s waist. “Millennia,” he corrected and leaned in for a kiss of his own. Reluctantly, I let my feet down and moved to give Neil his chance. Not that it was a hardship. Seeing the two men I loved express love for each other made me feel all kinds of flip-floppy, goofy romantic things in my belly. The way Neil cradled the back of El-Mudad’s head as they kissed, the way El-Mudad’s groan was muffled made me want to swoon.

“Oh my god, I so ship you two,” I said with a laugh.

“I don’t think that you can ship people who are also in love with you,” El-Mudad said with an air of authority. “And I have a daughter who writes fanfiction, so I should know.”

“And you both have a very old partner who doesn’t understand what the hell you’re talking about,” Neil said, reaching for me to pull us all into a three-person embrace. “How was your trip?”

“Perfect.” El-Mudad made a motion with one hand to indicate smooth sailing. “I brought the new jet.”

“New jet?” Neil asked, his voice rising with excitement.

“Global seven-thousand,” El-Mudad confirmed with a smirk.

“Looks like there are perks to dating a rich man, huh?” I teased, elbowing Neil playfully.

“I thought we would take it to Venice for New Year’s,” El-Mudad suggested.

“Yes!” Neil agreed enthusiastically. He could barely contain his excitement. He was like a five-year-old being told they were going to get to ride on a choo-choo train. Then he cleared his throat and tried to act cool. “I’ve been hoping to see one of them in person, but I’ve never had the opportunity.”

A servant emerged from a hidden door, pushing a cart. Because honest-to-god servants waited on us here. We all stepped apart quickly, and the interloper cast his gaze down.

“We’re joining you,” Neil said, gesturing toward the breakfast room.

“I just finished, but I will gladly watch the two of you eat,” he said with a grin. “Come on, I have something I want to talk to you about.”

We followed him into the room and to the table, where a member of the housekeeping staff already laid out two new places. She cleared away El-Mudad’s used plate and utensils and gestured to the delicate china cup on its saucer. “Excuse me, sir, should I leave this?”

“Yes, thank you,” El-Mudad said with a wave of his hand. It was nothing to have a person actually serve him, the same as with Neil. It was a part of their personalities I would never understand; my social class was usually the one doing the serving, and not in big fancy houses like this. The Scaifes were made for hardware stores and fast food, not Downton Abbey.

One of the drawbacks was the privacy aspect. El-Mudad wanted to speak to us about something apparently important enough to announce the intent of discussing but far too private to talk about in front of people who were paid to keep quiet about stuff. I had so many hopes as to what the topic of conversation would be and not enough patience to wait through the formalities of a midday snack.

Okay, the scones and clotted cream placed on the table for us were difficult to resent. I filled my plate while our coffee was poured and resisted the urge to shoo everyone from the room.

Finally, the three of us were alone, and I demanded, “What is it you want to talk to us about?”

I knew what I wanted it to be about.

“I’ve given more thought to our living arrangements,” he said, taking a sip of coffee.

“Oh?” Neil held his cup casually in front of his mouth, but anxious hope radiated from him. I realized my legs had started to bounce under the table.

“I do think your idea will work best,” he went on, referring to our plan that he would live with us in the house, but use the guest house and Manhattan apartment for cover when we needed it. Oh, El-Mudad? He’s just staying in our guest house for a visit. He’s renting our penthouse while he’s here on business. He’s an old friend having his beach house renovated. I hated that we would have to lie to hide our relationship, but children were involved. Not just El-Mudad’s but Olivia. Though I doubted Valerie would care if she found out Neil and I had a lover. She’d dated Neil back in the days of their unofficial university kink club and knew more about his sex life than I was strictly comfortable with her knowing. I also knew that if she felt Olivia was being exposed to something she considered harmful, she wouldn’t hesitate to protect her granddaughter with the help of Family Court. It wasn’t as though I could bring it up to her to test the waters; “Valerie, how do you feel about children raised in polygamous homes?”