Hidden Devotion (Trinity Masters #5)(21)

“Is it true?” Grandfather’s stories about the secret society couldn’t possibly be true. Could they?

“The name,” she repeated.

“Trinity Masters. He said they were called the Trinity Masters.”

Juliette smiled, but it was a rather sad expression. “Francisco Garcia Santiago, I need you to come with us.”

*****

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Who the hell is he?”

Devon and Juliette stared at one another, neither answering the other’s question. They were standing on the steps of the museum, sunlight streaming around them.

Devon caved first. “I went to see your brother.”

“Why?”

“You know why. I went to ask the Grand Master why my trinity,” something I’ve longed for my whole life, “was destroyed.”

“Destroyed? Don’t be melodramatic.”

He had to turn away. He didn’t want her to see the rage or hurt on his face. Her easy dismissal of what they had, what they were to each other, made it abundantly clear how little she cared. For the sake of his own pride, he wouldn’t let her know that his heart was utterly breaking.

“Imagine my surprise,” he said, throat tight as he struggled to pretend he wasn’t an emotional wreck, “when I discovered your brother is not the Grand Master.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Perhaps I should be honored that the first thing you did was to use that newfound power to get me out of your life.”

“Yet here you are.”

Devon flinched, as if the words were a physical blow.

“As you can see, I’m here on Trinity Masters’ business. There are people, families, who’ve fallen through the cracks. I came to find out what Francisco knows about us.”

“He knows too much.”

That startled a laugh out of Juliette, though he hadn’t meant it to be funny. “You make it sound as though we’re going to kill him.”

“You make it sound as if that isn’t something you could have done, Grand Master.”

Juliette’s laughter faded. “You thinking I’d do that reinforces the fact that you know nothing about me.”

“I wasn’t saying you would, I’m just—”

“He’s agreed to come to Boston. I’ll talk to him.”

Devon wanted to offer to help, wanted to tell her he’d support her, whatever she’d decided to do, but he didn’t know how. She’d made her feelings towards him all too clear. That she hadn’t told him she was going to be Grand Master hurt more than he could say.

“Do you want to fly back with me? I borrowed the Hancock’s jet.”

“No, I have a flight booked.”

He hadn’t expected her to say yes, so Devon just nodded. Squinting up at the warm Florida sun, he felt cold. It really was over. The Grand Master had dissolved the trinity. He and Juliette would never be married, never be two pieces of a three-part trinity.

And she would never know how desperately he loved her.

This wasn’t a dream. He couldn’t rule out brain-aneurism-induced delusion, but at this point Franco was sure it wasn’t some hyper-realistic dream. He’d been contacted by his grandfather’s secret society—contact that came in the form of a gorgeous well-bred blonde and a brooding preppy guy.

The car service dropped him off outside an elegant brick house. He’d never been to Boston before, but Franco was sure this was an expensive piece of real estate. That fit with everything else he knew about Juliette and the Trinity Masters.

It had been two days since she’d shown up in his museum and turned his whole life upside down. She’d invited him to Boston and he’d accepted, knowing he couldn’t possibly live with himself if he didn’t investigate the situation. He loved a good mystery. Most people didn’t understand that archivists were detectives at heart. Detectives who spoke with people long dead through public records, papers and photos.

The secret society his grandfather described was a powerful, clandestine, unorthodox organization. If even half of the things his grandfather had said were true, this was going to be a very interesting visit. Franco had used the flight as an opportunity to make a list of questions he wanted to ask.

He rang the bell, stuck his hands in his overcoat pockets to keep them from freezing, and a few moments later Juliette herself answered. He was slightly disappointed there wasn’t a tuxedo-clad butler on the other side of the door. The foyer he stepped into was certainly elegant enough that a butler wouldn’t be out of place. Though Franco’s family had plenty of money and he was no stranger to luxury, wealth in New England looked very different to wealth in Florida.

“Francisco, thank you for coming.”

“I don’t know if I should say ‘you’re welcome’.”

Juliette smiled and Franco’s heart thumped. “Why wouldn’t you say ‘you’re welcome’?”

“Because this might be a plot to kill me because I know too much.”

He expected her to laugh. She didn’t. And that was more than a little terrifying.

“I’ll take your coat. You can leave your suitcase there, or if you’re tired, I’ll take you to your room.”

“I booked a hotel.”