Hidden Devotion (Trinity Masters #5)(9)
“Does your brother know about this?”
“Are you asking if my brother, who barely knows me, was aware that I took a calculated risk for a cause I believe in? Or are you asking if the Grand Master is aware that I did something that might compromise a planned trinity?” The words were cold and measured.
Devon told himself to calm down. He was famous for being able to keep a level head in the most horrifying of situations, and yet something about Juliette always got under his skin. He couldn’t shake the mental picture of her being groped and hit as she was herded from a dingy brothel basement in Eastern Europe into the back of a filthy truck along with other terrified women and children.
“I’m asking if you have any idea how irresponsible it is to put yourself in harm’s way.”
“It’s my life. My fight.”
Devon pushed to his feet. “There are people who care about you.” Bracing one hand on the arm of the couch he leaned over her. It was a bad move—the way her jaw clenched made it apparent that all he was doing was making her dig in her heels. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but there are.”
“I know that, but I can’t, won’t, live my life for someone or something else.”
The fear of what could have happened to her was making him feel ill. That, paired with frustration that he hadn’t known about this particular activity, pushed aside his normal reserve. “Thank God your brother brought you back.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe when we’re married you won’t be so reckless. Maybe then other people’s feelings will matter to you.” His teeth snapped together. That was more than he’d wanted to say.
Juliette slid out from under his arm and pushed to her feet, facing him down. “You came to Boston because you think this is it. We’re getting called to the altar.”
Devon cursed. If she hadn’t figured it out on her own, this was not how he’d want her to figure it out. “Juliette, I…”
She turned her back to him.
Devon reached out, fingers hovering an inch from the bare side of her neck. “Juliette, if you let me, I’ll make you happy.” He stroked the bare skin behind her ear and down her neck to the edge of her sweater. “You know I can.”
“Devon…”
“Yes?”
“Get out.”
Chapter Three
Paris, seven years earlier
It wasn’t her first time in Paris, but it was the first time she’d been there without her mother. The freedom was dizzying, the whole world seemingly lying at her feet, waiting to be explored.
Juliette Adams—daughter of a celebrated actress, semi-regular player in page-six style gossip columns and blogs, member of an elite circle of offspring of the rich and famous—was here to take Europe by storm. The ink was barely dry on her high school diploma, but she had months of freedom ahead of her before she started college.
“Shopping or culture?” Rebecca Serafin was sitting cross-legged on the bed, maps and guidebooks scattered around her.
“Culture then shopping.” Lisa Giese flicked her finger across her camera screen, examining the pictures she’d taken yesterday.
“How about we just wander?” Juliette turned away from the apartment window. Though she’d wanted to stay in a hotel—like a normal person—her brother had insisted that she stay in an apartment owned by a member of the Trinity Masters. Lisa’s family wasn’t part of the Trinity Masters, but Rebecca’s was. As far as both girls knew, the apartment belonged to a Hollywood producer friend of Juliette’s mother. Though Rebecca was a legacy, she didn’t know Juliette’s brother was the Grand Master, which was more than fine with Juliette. It wouldn’t exactly be fun if one of your best friends found out that your brother was the person who had nearly God-like control over her life.
Grimacing at the thought, Juliette snatched up her jacket. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Wait, we’re coming.”
“I’m leaving,” she warned, taking dramatically slow steps towards the door.
“Coming, coming.”
“On y va!”
Once outside, she let herself forget about the Trinity Masters. They wandered until they found a small neighborhood bakery, snagging croissants and strong coffee. Feeling like locals, they walked until they reached the river Seine, taking the steps down to the path beside the water. Trying to blend in, they spoke in French instead of English, turning their noses up at the tourists they passed.
“When are we meeting up with Sebastian and the guys?” Rebecca asked.
“Rome. They’re backpacking right now.” Juliette stopped to take a photo of a pretty bit of ironwork on a bridge, feeling quite artistic as she did so.
“Blegh. Why would anyone want to sleep on the ground and be dirty when they could be doing this?” Lisa spread her arms.
Juliette wouldn’t have minded going backpacking, which her best friend in the whole world, Sebastian, and two other guys were doing before joining her, Rebecca and Lisa for the last two weeks of the trip. But then again, there was something to be said for a whole week of freedom in Paris.
They stopped to shop, Juliette purchasing a slinky silk dress that her mother would never have let her wear. She wore it when they went to dinner that night, deciding to eat at the famous Hotel Meurice. They didn’t have reservations, but they were early by Paris standards and able to get a table without too much trouble. They ordered a bottle of Champagne—real Champagne, from Champagne—and delicately nibbled their rich, buttery food.