Hidden Devotion (Trinity Masters #5)(11)

Then they were gone, away from the security of the hotel and her friends. She was walking through the moon and lamplit streets of Paris with her fiancé.

Despite that, she was expecting a lecture. Clearly Devon hadn’t approved of the men in the bar. He probably didn’t approve of her drinking, since she wasn’t old enough to drink in the states.

“Did my brother send you?” she asked.

“No, why would you think he had?”

“I figure he sent you to check up on me.”

“Knowing your brother, I’m sure he has people keeping an eye on you, but I’m not acting as the Grand Master’s errand boy.” Devon guided their path, taking them off the main roads into more picturesque neighborhoods where the houses crowded up against the street and wrought iron balconies looked like decorative lace in the moonlight.

“So you’re in Paris for work?”

“Yes. Headed to Helsinki next.”

“Do you like it, the consulting job?” After she asked the question, Juliette realized it revealed that she knew what was going on in his life.

But he didn’t tease her. Instead he told her a bit about his job then talked about the master’s program he was planning on pursuing. They walked until they came to the river, taking the steps down to the walkway. It was the second time she’d been here today, but now, in the moonlight with a handsome man, it was a very different experience.

Devon asked her about her college plans, but not in the condescending way other people did. She planned to tell him the same lie she told other people—that she was going to major in economics and international relations as a pre-law student, but instead she told him the truth. She planned to major in anthropology.

“You want to work for an overseas nonprofit?” he asked when she admitted her great secret.

“Yes, I mean, no. I don’t want to work for a nonprofit. I want to help. Maybe that means I work for a specific organization, maybe it means I start my own, or do something else.”

“That’s smart, very smart.” Devon’s voice was low and almost sad.

“You think so?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I figured you’d talk me out of it. I’m supposed to be a lawyer.” When she got back from this trip she was going to have lunch with an old friend of her father’s, Harold Martin, who wanted to talk to her about her career. As a member of the Trinity Masters, professional success was assured. Usually members were recruited because of their careers. Legacies usually had their careers handed to them. Undoubtedly this meeting with her father’s friend would be all about him telling her what kind of law she was going to practice.

“Supposed to be?”

“Yes. You’re supposed to be a lobbyist—which you’re working towards. Rose is supposed to be a computer developer.”

“Medical tech-development engineer,” he corrected.

Juliette shrugged, trying not to hate Rose. Jealousy was death to a trinity. It didn’t matter if that jealousy was romantic or professional. “The point is, we all have a part to play. And if I don’t play my part…”

“Juliette, you know you have a choice.”

She tried to laugh flippantly but it came out sounding rather desperate. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You do. Just because you’re a legacy doesn’t mean you have to become a member. You’d keep our secrets, so you wouldn’t be a threat.”

“I’m an Adams. Of course I have to be a member.”

“I know your relationship with your father was…rocky, but Harrison would understand.”

“Harrison might as well be my father as far as Trinity stuff goes.”

They walked in silence until they came to a stretch of river where the trees on the street above were lit, their images, outlined in pinpricks of light, reflected in the sluggish water.

Devon turned to face her, his hands cupping her elbows. “Juliette.”

Her heart was beating so loudly she was sure he’d hear it. His face was in shadow, and his shoulders seemed impossibly wide. It was almost as if a stranger held her. Maybe he was a stranger. This was not the Devon she’d known all her life. He’d never looked at her, focused on her, this way before.

“Devon.”

“I want to kiss you.”

“I want that, too.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” She spoke too quickly, too enthusiastically, and she caught the flash of white teeth in the moonlight. Juliette dropped her head in embarrassment.

He nudged her chin up with one hand. “It’s been hard,” he whispered.

“What has?”

“Trying not to think about kissing you.”

“Why didn’t you want to think about kissing me?”

“You’re young.”

“I’m not that much younger than you.”

“Not anymore—the difference between eighteen and twenty three isn’t so bad. It wouldn’t have been appropriate for me to kiss you when you were fifteen and I was twenty.”

“I wouldn’t have said no.”

“I wouldn’t have asked.”

“But you asked now.”

“Yes, I did.” And with that he lowered his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and gentle, Devon’s hands slowly moving from her elbows until he could stroke the base of her neck with one thumb and press the other against her back. Juliette laid trembling fingers on his chest and hoped the moment would never end. When he deepened the kiss, she jumped. It wasn’t the first time she’d French-kissed someone—she and Sebastian had practiced on one another—but it was the first time it had felt so good.