Hidden Devotion (4 page)

“You actually did it.”

“Yep.”

“You’re the Grand Master.”

“This conversation is getting repetitive.” Juliette shook out a sweater dress, wondering if it was too dated to wear again.

“I’m trying to process.” Sebastian’s voice cracked through her earbuds. The internet call had fairly good quality, but he’d gone back to a remote area outside of Diyarbakir, where he was working with the Kurdish ethnic minority communities. One of Sebastian’s strengths, thanks to his degrees in international relations and civics, was in helping communities make the transition to self-sustaining governments, an undervalued step in the process of raising a community from poverty and/or disarray to self-sustaining governance.

“How’s your brother handling this?” Sebastian asked.

Juliette opened her mouth, prepared to tell Seb about everything else that had happened leading up to her brother stepping down, but she stopped herself. She was used to telling Seb everything, but things were different—had to
start
being different. Grand Master was not a role she could shrug off, even if it meant she held back information from a friend.

“He’s handling it. Honestly, I don’t think he’s that sad to give it up. Now he can focus on his trinity. Have kids. Write boring research papers.”

Seb laughed. “He can have his boring life. What I want to know is what you, all powerful Grand Master, are going to do next?”

“First I’m going to finish unpacking.”

“Your Boston clothes?”

“Yep.” She tossed a pair of artificially faded nineties’ jeans onto the floor. “Most of them are still useable.”

“Is anyone else there?”

“Nope, just me. Hopefully no one else will be around. I need some alone time.”

“You hate alone time.”

“Oh shut up, you know-it-all. You should be nicer to me. I
am
the Grand Master, after all.”

His reply to that was an elegant snort. Strangely, that made her feel better.

“What are you going to tell North Star?” Now Sebastian’s voice was somber.

Juliette sat heavily on the side of the bed. North Star was the human trafficking nonprofit she worked for. Since money wasn’t really a concern for her, she wasn’t on the payroll but spearheaded several projects, including technical training for cities and organizations that wanted to set up hotlines to report human trafficking for exploited women and children to call. If Seb knew how to implement infrastructure, Juliette knew how to work with and empower people.

“I told them there was a family emergency. I can finish up the project in Edirne via conference calls, and then I just need to report out to some of the mapping agencies.”

“Do you have a lot to report?”

“Enough. I traveled with the local lead along the border areas.”

Seb made an odd noise, one she couldn’t understand until he spoke. “You might be able to keep working, once things settle down.”

“Don’t be stupid, Bastian.” She used the nickname on purpose, a signal that she wasn’t up to thinking about the future, and how different hers was going to be.

“But of course, oh all-powerful Grand Master.”

She snorted, smacked her hands on her knees and stood. “Right now I’m going to finish sorting my clothes, check in with the business manager and then start going through the records.”

There was a long pause, and she thought the call dropped. “Seb? Seb?”

“I’m still here. What was that last thing?”

“I have to start going through all the Trinity Masters’ records.”

“The membership records?”

“Yep. Those and the archives.”

“Do you need to do that? I mean you don’t have to go through all of those at the same time.”

She couldn’t tell Seb that it was the archives she was really worried about, not without explaining that the key to solving the mystery of the threats on Harrison’s life had been hidden in their father’s records. She remembered the dusty boxes of diaries and old files that used to fill the Grand Master’s office in her father’s time.

“Files are priority number one.”

“Sounds boring, but you’re lucky I love you, because I’m still coming.”

“You’re coming? Why?”

“You need my help.”

“Excuse you. No I don’t.”

“Yes you do. Especially with the records.”

Juliette frowned at the wall. Sebastian usually wasn’t so pushy, or dismissive of her abilities. Chalking it up to concern, she decided not to strain their relationship by telling him he couldn’t help her.

“You want to be my date to the gala?”

“The…oh hell no.”

Juliette laughed. Seb hated Trinity Masters’ events.

“Well I can’t go by myself.” Juliette made her voice breathy and feminine. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“And you’re always so proper. Don’t forget I have those photos from the last time we were in Malta.”

“Blackmail. Shocking. I’ll have you know—”

Chimes sounded. Juliette stopped, the sound unexpected enough that her heart started racing.

“Jules? You okay?”

“There’s someone at the door.”

“So much for your solitude.”

“I have to get that. Email me. Be safe.”

“Be safe,” he repeated, a sign off they’d used for years.

Hanging up, she quickly slipped on some shoes to go with her thick cotton lounge pants and too-large wool sweater. Sebastian had no idea how appropriate “be safe” was, considering the threats Harrison had received not long ago.

Reminding herself that only a handful of people knew she was now the Grand Master, she headed down the stairs, letting her sweater fall over her hands to hide the fact that her fingers were shaking.

*****

Devon Asher tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks, took them out, buttoned his jacket, stuck his hands back in his pockets and reminded himself that for fuck’s sake, you’re a thirty-year-old man, stop acting like an idiot teenager.

Once he was sure he had the fidgeting out of his system, Devon rang the bell, listening to the faint sound of chimes. It took just long enough for the door to open that he was fighting the urge to mess with his tie. Luckily, he was composed and still when the portal swung inward.

Juliette Adams was stunning. She always had been, and probably always would be. Honey-gold hair lay over her shoulder in a messy braid, her slight frame nearly overwhelmed by the knit sweater that was listing to one side, not quite falling off her shoulder but exposing the delicate line of her collarbone. Her skin was a warm gold, darker than he was used to seeing, and it gave her a sort of monochromatic-goddess appeal.

From fidgeting to flights of fancy. He really needed to pull it together.

She leaned against the door, blocking his entrance. It was ridiculous since he was a foot taller and 100 pounds heavier than her, but the look on her face made it very clear that if she didn’t want to let him in, she wouldn’t, and damn the logistics of trying to keep someone his size out.

He knew the house had top-of-the-line security, which meant she’d checked a video display to see who was outside before answering. That robbed him of the chance to see her unstudied reaction. Devon lived for the moments when he could catch her off guard, before her face and heart closed down.

As he’d been studying her, she’d been studying him. It had been eighteen months, two weeks and three days, since they’d been face-to-face. He wondered what she saw when she looked at him—if she saw him at all.

He was fairly certain that for Juliette, he was simply a representation of everything she hated.

A gust of wind tugged at his suit jacket, reminding him that he didn’t have an overcoat. She shivered as the cold air whipped into the house and Devon shifted, trying to block the breeze. Her lips pressed together, a brief moment of…something, but then she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes.

“Devon, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from my betrothed?”

Damn it, damn it, she could not deal with this, with
him
, right now.

Stepping back she pushed the door all the way open and motioned Devon in. He carefully wiped the snow from his shoes before accepting the invitation. Juliette closed the door and leaned against it, taking a moment to center herself. She could feel him looming over her. At six feet one, with wide shoulders, he was physically big and his steady gray eyes seemed to always be watching and assessing.

She’d known him all her life and had been engaged to him just as long. Devon was one of her trinity, a marriage that had been decided upon as soon as she was born. Even on days when she was feeling charitable towards her father, Juliette couldn’t see her trinity—herself, Devon Asher of the New York Ashers, and Rose Hancock, direct descendant of one of America’s founding families—as anything but a political maneuver cementing three legacy families together.

It would help if Devon wasn’t handsome and well-mannered, but he was both. His brown hair was only slightly mussed by the wind, cut in a classic style with a side part. His navy suit, blue-and-white checked shirt and blue tweed tie were both classic and fashionably trendy—eminently appropriate for a young D.C. lobbyist. A Burberry scarf was draped around his neck and he pulled it off with quick, efficient movements, turning to hang it on the freestanding coatrack.

“Can I get you something to drink?” The words were out before she had time to consider what she was saying. A knee-jerk good-manner reflex.

“Tea or coffee would be nice. Thank you.”

Juliette bristled. “I haven’t been in the kitchen yet, so you may be out of luck.”

“That’s fine.” Devon frowned. “Have you eaten since you got here?”

“Five seconds in the door and already patronizing. Lovely.” Juliette headed for the kitchen, throwing open doors as she went.

The less-formal living room was usable, but the dining room was draped in tarps to protect the furnishings. Everything was in place in the kitchen and it took her only a few minutes to find where the kettle was stored.

Devon had followed her in. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he stripped off his jacket and draped it over the back of one of the counter-height chairs pulled up to the massive marble island.

“I didn’t mean to be patronizing, Juliette.”

Filling the kettle, she had to resist the urge to slam the faucet handle. The way he said her name set her teeth on edge. It was the same way he’d said her name when she was a gangly ten-year-old, following him around and dying of jealousy when he hung out with Rose, who, like Devon, was five years older than Juliette. They’d been peers and she’d been the annoying little kid trying so hard to get their attention, especially Devon’s.

“In that case, thank you for the concern, but I have, miraculously, managed to feed myself since landing.” She went digging through the canisters of loose-leaf tea until she found a nice Assam. “Speaking of which, how did you know I was here?”

“Rose heard from Jackson.”

“Who heard from Bethany, who heard from Sebastian. For people who live and die by their secrets, we’re ridiculously gossipy.”

Devon laughed, a warm, smooth sound. “True.”

She couldn’t even be mad at Sebastian—he wouldn’t have said anything about her becoming the Grand Master, but he would have mentioned to their friends that she was headed to Boston. Not saying anything would have been suspicious.

“And how is Rose?”

“She’s well.”

“Still in California?”

“Yes.”

Juliette watched the clock on the microwave, timing the brew. It gave her an excuse not to look at Devon as the silence lengthened.

“If you’re in the states for a while, we could head out there to see her.”

“How sweet, bonding time with your wives.” Juliette turned just enough so he could see her flutter her eyelashes. For a moment his composure cracked and he looked irritated. Good.
She
was irritated; he might as well be, too.

“Yes, clearly that’s why I suggested it, because I want to play lord and master over my women.”

Now Juliette laughed—the way he said it, wryly and with a clear understanding that he’d have better luck pulling down the moon than being lord and master over either Juliette or Rose, was heartening. It didn’t change the fact that their betrothal was a giant purple elephant in the room.

She poured cups of tea then motioned toward the kitchen door. “Let’s sit in the living room.”

Devon waited until her back was turned to let his shoulders relax. Sometimes they could go days stuck in a pattern of stiff formality and sly jabs. Other times…other times there weren’t even words to describe the magic.

He brushed aside the nagging guilt he felt from lying to her—Rose
had
texted him that she’d heard Juliette was on her way to Boston, but that text had come a day after he’d already learned of her travel plans. Juliette would not appreciate knowing how he knew. It was a conversation he needed to have with her, but later, after they’d been called to the altar and their trinity sealed.

Hopefully, that wait was almost over. If Juliette was in Boston it must mean her brother, the Grand Master, had summoned her, and there was only one reason Harrison would have summoned Juliette—he was preparing to call them to the altar.

Rose had assumed the same, and asked him to text her as soon as he knew what was going on. Both he and Rose were well aware that the sticking point in their trinity would be Juliette, and it was something they’d had plenty of conversations about. He and Rose had a less-tumultuous, friend-based relationship, though her move to the West Coast had caused some distance between them.

So far, nothing Juliette had said or done indicated they were days away from the life-changing altar ceremony. Either she’d gotten even better at hiding her thoughts and feelings or she was being willfully blind as to why her brother had called her home. Both were strong possibilities.

He lit the gas insert in the elegant plaster-and-marble fireplace. When Juliette curled up on one end of a low leather couch, he took a seat in the chair beside it. He wanted to sit with her, to pull her onto his lap and strip off that sweater and…

Devon took a sip of the tea, forcing himself to think about something else. “How’s your work with North Star?”