Hidden Devotion (21 page)

“It’s my fault?” Juliette’s hands curled into fists.

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

Franco grabbed a sheet off the floor and tucked it around Juliette. “You have to give him a chance to explain.”

The speeches she’d prepared when she wrote the summons were forgotten. Franco was calm and resolute, his hands on her shoulders urging her to stay, to listen. Tension radiated off Devon. When Juliette took a deep breath and let it out, loudly enough that they both could hear, Devon seemed to relax.

He cleared his throat. “By the time you decided you wanted nothing to do with the agency, I’d already been working for them for a long time.

“I started out as an asset when I was eighteen. I officially joined the agency midway through college. I was recruited the same way you were, just five years earlier.”

“So you’ve been lying to me for years.” The words were bitter, and only Franco’s hand kept her on the bed.

“No. I’ve been hiding the truth from you for years. I thought you’d change your mind and it wouldn’t matter. When I realized you wouldn’t, I didn’t know how to tell you. I always assumed we’d end up in the agency together.”

“Information. What information were you getting from me?”

He sighed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I ghosted your computer and email accounts.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Damn it, Juliette. You know how this works. I don’t want to torture information out of locals, or put guns into the hands of people who aren’t trained to use them.”

“Then what do you do?” Franco’s question was genuinely curious, and as was becoming custom, his apparent failure to react to the tension between Juliette and Devon helped ease the situation. His avid, almost lewd curiosity let the air out of Juliette’s balloon of outrage.

Devon’s snort-laugh was weary. “The best information comes from either locals or aid workers. People like Juliette.” He sat up. “The best way to stop terrorism is to eliminate environments where terrorism thrives. Water, food, doctors—these are all things we can provide, if we know they’re needed.”

“All those times other charities stepped in?” Her work with North Star had overlapped with the arrival of other charities or initiatives multiple times.

“Not every time, but when you had intel on high-risk areas, I did my best to make sure the region got whatever you said it needed.”

“And what about the rest of my email?”

“I never read it.”

Juliette snorted. “Right.”

“I’m serious. Do you think I wanted to read about the people you were dating and sleeping with? That would have killed me.”

“I’m supposed to believe that you—”

“Yes,” Franco said.

“Excuse me?” Juliette twisted to peer at him in the darkness.

“Yes, you’re supposed to believe him.”

“Stay out of this,” she demanded.

“No. If we’re going to be in this together, I’m not going to stay out of it. Your past impacts me.”

“You have no say in whether or not we end up together.” Juliette kept the words cold.

“I know that, but I can’t imagine
not
spending the rest of my life with the two of you.” Franco spoke simply, the absolute truth of what he was saying clear in his voice.

Once again, his words sapped the tension from the room.

“Neither can I.” Devon reached out and laid his hand over Franco’s on Juliette’s shoulder. “My future has always had you in it, Jules. Always. I love Rose, too, but not the way I love you.” He squeezed, emphasizing their physical connection. “Or the way I’m coming to love Franco.”

Could she forgive Devon?

Would she have done any differently if she were in his position?

It was time to grow up.

“I want to be angry with you, both of you. Devon, for lying to me for years. Franco, for assuming things I may not be ready to commit to.”

Both men stiffened, the air around their little trio tightening as they waited for the “but”.

“But, I need you both. I was never meant to be Grand Master, and it’s going to be hard.” Franco scooted closer to her until he supported her back. Devon picked up her hands and kissed them. “I’m a woman, I’m young, and I don’t even like half of our rules. I need both of you to help me do this.”

“Anything you need,
querida
.”

“Always. My heart is yours.”

“Devon, I’ve already asked Franco, but now I’m asking you. Will you be one of my councilors?”

“Yes. I’m honored.” He kissed her hands again.

Without discussing it, they all shifted, with Devon propped against the headboard, Franco sprawled out near the foot of the bed. Juliette lay back against Devon. He was solid and warm—familiar in a way that felt like home. Franco tugged on her legs until they were draped over his hip then massaged her feet with one hand. They lay in companionable silence.

“Can I be the master of ships?” Franco’s voice was hopeful.

“What?” Devon’s voice was husky with sleep.

Juliette sighed. “It’s not the small council from
Game of Thrones
.”

“
Song of Ice and Fire
,” Devon corrected.

There was a pregnant silence.

“You read high fantasy?” Juliette asked. How many other things didn’t she know about Devon?

“Closeted geek.” Franco yawned and stretched. “I can see it. I bet you’re into cosplay, too.”

“I am not.”

“You’d make a good Jaime Lannister.”

“Screw you.”

“You did.”

Devon mock growled. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want him in the trinity.”

“You know we need him.” Juliette smiled. This was fun. When she’d imagined being married to Rose and Devon, nights spent lounging in bed and teasing one another had never seemed like a possibility. Intense, hardcore sex, sure. Teasing? Nope.

“You definitely need me. The two of you take yourselves way too seriously.”

“Hey.” Juliette jabbed him with her foot. “Okay, fine, you’re right. We’re no good as a couple.”

“Couple? Couples are for amateurs.” Devon tightened his arm around her, settling in as if he were going to sleep.

Silence surrounded them, warm and comfortable. As much as she wanted to stay here, live in this moment, Juliette couldn’t ignore the future.

“The gala is tonight,” she whispered.

“I hate to tell you this, but they’re going to know you’re a woman.” Franco patted her calf.

“My fake deep voice wasn’t convincing?”

“It was for a second, because I expected it to be a man.”

“That’s some misogyny right there,” Devon said.

“Oh, like you wouldn’t have assumed it was a guy.” Franco sounded grumpy.

“Of course not.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but until a couple of weeks ago, weren’t you going to have two wives?
That’s
some misogyny.”

“Boys.” They both shut up. Franco brought out Devon’s fun side, which was nice to see, but there was a time and place, and now was not it. They had serious business to attend to. “I’m not going to try to disguise my voice. You’re right, Franco. It wasn’t convincing.”

“Are you ready to face them all?” Devon asked.

“No.” She laid her head back on Devon’s shoulder and stared into the darkness. In that moment, the weight of her roles as Grand Master weighed heavy on her shoulders. “I’d planned to make some changes.” Devon laced his fingers with hers and squeezed. Franco rubbed her foot. Their presence didn’t lighten the load, but it made it more bearable. “I’d planned to abolish the arranged-marriage rule.”

Devon went statue still at her back then hesitantly replied, “I don’t want to fight with you, but—”

Juliette reached up and stopped Devon’s words with her fingers. “I know. It was stupid of me to even consider changing our rules because I was upset. I don’t want to make any other stupid mistakes.”

“I know you said that this gala is important, but we need to figure out the whole poison thing, too,” Franco said. “That’s assuming Devon doesn’t decide it was
me
trying to poison the Grand Master and shoot me.”

“Just let me know. I’ll shoot him.”

Juliette ignored them with the grace of a queen. “More than just the poisoning. We still don’t know why your grandfather was never called to the altar.”

“So what do you need us to do, Grand Master?” There was no mocking in Devon’s tone. He would wait for her orders, and Franco would follow his lead.

Juliette sat up. Dawn light was starting to show around the edge of the curtains. “First, coffee. Then let’s make a plan.”

“I’m making the coffee.” Franco jumped off the bed. “You people have no idea how to make coffee.”

“You people?” Juliette rose and opened the drapes.

“New Englanders. White people. Take your pick.”

“I’ll pretend that wasn’t offensive.” She raised her arms, stretching in the first rays of dawn.

“Juliette.”

She turned when Devon said her name. He held out a hand. When she placed her fingers in his, he relaxed, a small smile curving the corners of his mouth.

“Master of Coin. I changed my mind, I want to be the Master of Coin.”

Devon picked up a pillow and threw it at Franco. “Shut up. We’re having a moment.”

Franco rolled his eyes and pulled on his shirt. “You two are so dramatic. It’s like you were raised in a secret cult or something…oh, wait.”

“We’re not a cult.”

“Whatever you say.” Franco dodged a second pillow and slapped Juliette’s butt on his way out the door.

There was an awkward silence when it was just the two of them, reinforcing the need for Franco in their trinity.

“I’m sorry, Juliette.”

“I’m sorry, too.” She pulled on stretchy pants and a sweater. When she sat on the bed to put on socks, Devon took them from her. He knelt at her feet like a knight pledging fealty.

“Whatever you decide to do, whatever you need, I’ll support you.” He kissed each foot before putting the socks on.

“Thank you. I’ll need it. I have an idea, a way to solve multiple problems at once, but I don’t know how everyone else will react.”

“Change is hard.”

Juliette wiggled her toes in her socks then jumped to her feet.

“Well, change is coming. There’s a new sheriff in town.”

Devon groaned and started getting dressed. “He’s rubbing off on you.”

Juliette laughed, slapped Devon’s butt and headed downstairs, ready to have her first council meeting. Members of the Trinity Masters may be powerful, dangerous people, but she was the Grand Master.

And she was about to change everything.

“Papa.”

“Francisco. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Marcia says you are not home, not at the foundation.”

Franco reminded himself to tell Marcia to stop reporting on him to his parents. Though he was technically the foundation president, Marcia knew where the real power still lay—Franco’s father. But it was his mother who liked to keep tabs on him.

“Tell Mama to stop making Marcia spy on me.”

“She worries.”

“Where are you right now?”

“Morocco. Did you see the video your mother posted to our YouTube channel?”

“No.” Franco stifled a groan. His mother was a bit tech-mad. She’d started a Twitter account and YouTube channel to document their retirement travels. “I’ll check it out after this.”

“You better, before you talk to her again.”

“I actually called because I have a question.”

“Of course. Ask.”

“It’s about something of Grandfather’s. It’s that old box, the one he said belonged to the secret society.”

“Oh, your grandfather and his stories. Why do you ask?”

“I’m doing some research on a photo I found. You’ll love it. I’ll show you when you get home. Anyway, while I was working on that, I looked at the box again. I’m thinking about opening it. Do you know why Grandfather never did?”

“He said that the person who delivered it to him warned him it was a test. If he didn’t open the box, it would prove he could resist the temptation. He always said he was smarter than Pandora—he knew when to leave a box alone.”

That didn’t make any sense. The letter hidden inside the box had explicit instructions that Luis was to try to decode the list and then bring the answers to Boston. There was no way he could do that if he never found the letter.