Hidden Devotion (12 page)

This time she hadn’t bothered with the speech about the ills of the world, and every time he brought up the Trinity Masters she’d changed the subject. She’d plopped down in the chair beside him and drank like someone trying to forget. And she had forgotten, at least for a little while.

Maybe this dawn would be different. Maybe this time she wouldn’t leave. Maybe he would have the courage to tell her things she needed to hear, things he was too much of a coward to say.

Juliette, I’m not a lobbyist. Juliette, I love you.

But there would be plenty of time for all that once they were called to the altar. Plus it wasn’t fair to Rose—the feelings he had for Juliette were on a completely different level than those he had for the third member of their trinity.

She turned her head, stretching one arm up as she woke. In that second just before the light hit her face he leaned down and kissed her.

Juliette’s eyes fluttered then opened. For a moment, a sweet moment, she looked happy. She smiled at him, reached one hand out to touch his face.

Devon waited, praying, but before her fingers made contact her face went blank, her feelings locked down behind a mask that seemed to appear with the dawn light.

Without a word, Juliette rolled away. She grabbed her dress off the floor as she rose, holding it against her chest.

Devon clenched his teeth against the pain. He just needed to bide his time. Once they were married he would tell her everything. There would be no secrets between them.

But he was tired. His last operation had been a total clusterfuck, and he’d needed this time with Juliette to recharge and center himself. As she passed his side of the bed on the way to the bathroom, he reached out, caught her hand.

He held his breath, both terrified and hopeful that she would sense his feelings—need, love, fear, desire.

Juliette froze, her torso turned away from him, one hand caught in his. They stayed that way, frozen in the midst of a pivotal moment, as the sun continued its invasion of their room.

Finally Juliette tugged her fingers, disappearing into the bathroom. When she emerged she was dressed.

“I called for breakfast,” he said.

“Thank you.” She didn’t look at him.

He went to the bathroom, and when he came out she was gone. When breakfast arrived, he ate methodically while checking his email. Then, just as methodically, he picked up her untouched plate and hurled it against the wall.

He couldn’t decide if the location was a deliberate attempt to intimidate him. If so, it was mostly working.

Franco looked around the dimly lit bar—except it wasn’t a bar, it was a gentleman’s club. Not the kind with strippers, the kind with wood paneling, fireplaces, hunter-green plaid wallpaper and leather club chairs.

The bouncer had asked for ID then checked it against a list. He could only assume this was a membership place, and that the man he was here to meet had made sure his name was on the list.

Franco wasn’t sure what he hoped to get out of this conversation with Devon. He’d asked Juliette for the other man’s number because Devon was the only person besides her to whom he could ask his questions. The kiss had complicated things with her, and before this went too much further, Franco wanted some answers, so here he was.

Instead of looking like a grown-up frat boy, the way he had in Florida, the man who rose from a club chair in a small alcove was six feet of intimidation in a dark suit and tie. Franco tugged on the front of his sweater vest, hoping he didn’t look like a geeky high schooler. He had a bad feeling this sweater vest actually was a piece of his old high school uniform, but he didn’t exactly have a ton of winter-weather clothes, so he’d packed everything he thought would work.

“Francisco.” Devon held out his hand.

“You can call me Franco.” They shook.

“Franco. Thank you for meeting me here.”

“I’m the one who should say thank you. To you. For meeting me.”

Devon gestured to the other chair and Franco took a seat. The chairs were isolated from the rest of the room—a perfect place to have a conversation about a secret society.

“What can I get you to drink?”

“What’s good here?”

Devon’s lips twitched. “I’ve never had a bad drink.”

“Right. Guess that was a stupid question. Uh, I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

Devon pressed a small button on the wall. “Another Glenlivet, please.”

“I can’t decide if that’s creepy or cool.” He peered at the call button.

“Cool. Always go with cool.” Devon’s shoulders relaxed and he sat deeper in his chair.

“I have to tell you, so far this is all exactly what I expected.”

Devon raised his brows. “I thought you didn’t believe your grandfather’s stories? How is it that you had expectations?”

“I didn’t believe, but I’m saying that if there were a secret society, this is how you’d want to find out about it.” Franco gestured around them. “Sitting in a dark corner of a members-only club, having a beautiful blonde show up at your door. Hollywood would approve.”

Devon laughed, but Franco had seen the way his shoulders tensed when Juliette was mentioned.

“Juliette said you had some questions?”

“I do.” Franco dug the list out of his pocket.

“You wrote them down?”

Franco waited for the tuxedo-clad waiter to set down his drink—which was a small glass with a finger of amber liquid in it—before continuing. “Yes, otherwise I’d forget.”

“I’m surprised Juliette didn’t answer your questions.”

“We got off topic,” Franco admitted. Devon’s shoulders tensed once again. Okay, there was definitely something going on between him and Juliette.

“I’ll do my best to answer, but until you’re a member there are some things you can’t know.”

“That’s question one. If I’m not a member, why are you telling me anything?”

Devon raised his glass in a salute and took a sip before answering. Franco did the same and manfully suppressed a cough. It was whiskey. He hated whiskey.

“There are actually quite a few people who know something about the Trinity Masters but who aren’t members. Most of those people are legacies, like yourself, who chose not to join. Our secrets are safe with them because they were raised knowing the consequences. Others are those who were recruited and offered membership but declined.”

“People decline?”

“Not often, but it happens. Joining is a high-risk, high-reward game.”

“I’m trying to imagine how that conversation would go. ‘You seem smart; do you want to join a secret society? We offer you wealth and power but you have to marry who we say and by the way, you’ll marry two people not just one.’”

Devon chuckled. “When potential new members are evaluated, one fact that’s assessed is whether or not they’d be open to the trinity marriage.”

“Why a trinity marriage?”

Franco finished his whiskey as Devon told stories about other famous trinities, including Vice-Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, who’d been in a relationship with Lady Emma Hamilton and Sir William Hamilton. The gossip papers of the nineteenth century had called it an affair between Lady Emma and Lord Nelson, but it had been so much more. The three-way union had helped end the Napoleonic wars, and both Emma and William had mourned Lord Nelson after his death.

“It’s like a stool,” Franco said.

“Excuse me?”

“A stool needs at least three legs. Two legs aren’t enough.”

“Exactly.” Devon hit the button and asked for another round.

“Rum and coke, and water,” Franco yelled towards the place he hoped the mic was.

“Water isn’t a bad idea.” Devon stood, removed his jacket and even loosened his tie. When he sat, he looked relaxed.

“Good.” Franco, too, relaxed. “You’re not going to kill me.”

“Er, what?”

“You seemed as though you were just waiting for me to ask the wrong question then you’d kill me and leave my body propped up here. It would probably take days for them to report me as dead. But you took off your jacket so now I know you’re not wearing a gun.”

“If we wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“Juliette said the same thing. I’m going to pretend you’re both joking.”

“I just finished telling you that there are plenty of people who know about us and aren’t members. The consequences for divulging secrets are enough to keep people quiet.”

“Good to know.”

“But I won’t lie. We would kill to keep the Trinity Masters safe.”

“We? Are you an enforcer?”

“Enforcer? No. But there are members very capable of killing someone.”

“SEAL Team Six—are they members?”

“I don’t know. They might be.”

“You don’t know who all the other members are?”

“No.”

“Oh, then how do you and Juliette know each other?”

“We…grew up together.”

New drinks and a tall bottle of imported water were set down, along with crystal goblets for the water. When the server was gone, Franco shook his head. “Dev—can I call you Dev? Listen, we’re friends now, right?”

“Uh, no.”

“Sure we are.”

Devon blinked then burst out laughing. “Okay, sure. We’re friends. You can be my weird friend.”

“I’ll take it. But back to my point—you and Juliette, there’s something going on there. I can tell.”

Devon knocked back his entire glass, grimacing as he swallowed. Franco’s eyebrows crept up his forehead.

“I’ve known Juliette since she was a baby. Our relationship is complicated.”

“Have you slept together?”

“I’m not going to answer that.”

“Fair enough. But speaking of sex—”

“Which we weren’t.”

“—If you join when you’re, what, twenty? And you know that you don’t have to try to date and fall in love…” Franco trailed off, losing the train of thought as he flashed back to his last disastrous date. Apparently mini-golf was only a cute date-night activity for people under the age of sixteen and characters in romantic comedies.

“Was there a question in there somewhere?”

“Right. What do members do before they’re, uh, called to the altar? Do they remain celibate? Do they date but keep it casual? Hire prostitutes? Juliette mentioned sluttiness.”

“Prostitutes? What the hell…no. There are no specific rules, but once you join, you know you’re only asking for trouble if you start a serious relationship. Most people continue to date casually. Some take advantage of the situation and indulge themselves.”

“You mean no-strings-attached sex?”

Devon grinned. “And freaky sex.”

“Freaky sex. Yeah, I can see that.” Franco had a brief and vivid fantasy of Juliette wearing nothing but an apron making empanadas. His subconscious was a chauvinist asshole.

“What other questions do you have?”

“Huh? I’m still thinking about the freaky sex.” Franco eyed Devon. He and Juliette were like a matched pair of beautiful people. Barbie and Ken but not so cheap. If that was their connection—they’d indulged in freaky sex with each other pre-marriage—Franco doubted the freakiness involved baking.

“Then can I ask
you
a question?”

“Of course,” Franco replied.

“Are you going to join?”

That caught Franco off guard. “What?”

“If the Grand Master offers you membership, will you join?”

“Yes.” He should probably take a few days to consider it. He should probably wait and see if he had any more questions. But now that he knew this was real, there was no chance he was going to turn his back on it.

“Are you sure?” Devon seemed dubious.

“Absolutely. And you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking hate dating. If joining means I don’t have to do that, then I’m in.”

Devon laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. After that, Franco gave up on his list of questions. It wasn’t until they stumbled out of the club to a sky that was already starting to lighten that either man realized how long they’d spent talking.

They called for cabs, and once Franco climbed in and gave the hotel address, he realized that he felt comfortable with Devon. The kind of comfortable that was normally reserved for family.

Maybe that was because in a way, Devon was going to be part of his family, or maybe it was more appropriate to say Franco was becoming part of Devon’s family.