by Lila Dubois
“Distraction?” Antonio took exception to that description.
Karl did too. “You were his daughter. Not a distraction.”
“Please don’t misunderstand me,” she said, releasing their hands to lift them up. “My father loved me. Perhaps he wasn’t overly demonstrative, but I never doubted that, never questioned it.”
Antonio let her words appease him. “Did you remain in boarding school?”
She shook her head. “No. Isä realized that school wasn’t for me, and he hated to see me so unhappy. I didn’t fit in with the other students. There were only a few other Finns, and I spoke Swedish with an accent. That was the first problem. The second was that I wasn’t like many of the girls. They understood things about makeup and fashion that I didn’t know or care about. I liked being outdoors. Shooting. Games of strategy.
“When Isä brought me home, he allowed me to move closer to his base. I lived with a retired sergeant and his wife, attending school there. I became obsessed with Roza Shanina.”
“Who is that?” Antonio asked.
At the same time Karl said, “The sniper?”
She nodded. “Roza was Russian, only twenty when she died, but she had fifty-nine confirmed kills during World War II. I read her diary, and everything else I could get my hands on about her and other female snipers throughout history. And there was Simo Häyhä—the deadliest sniper in history, and a Finnish man. I’m not saying I wanted to kill, but I wanted to be…I wanted to be that good.”
She took a sip of water before continuing. “If there was one thing Isä could understand, it was guns and the military mindset. When I was old enough, I joined the Finnish Defense Force. I was there for a few years before being recruited to the Utti Jaeger Regiment.”
Antonio leaned back in his chair, not bothering to hide how impressed he was. “They allow women in that regiment?”
She smiled. “I was one of the first.”
“I have no idea what we’re talking about,” Karl admitted.
“It’s the equivalent of what you might know as,” Leila waved her hand around, searching for the words, “special opes?”
“Ops,” Karl corrected, at which point he whistled, the response mimicking Antonio’s.
“I was trained as a sniper, and I might have continued in the Finnish Army if not for an invitation.”
“From the Masters’ Admiralty,” Karl said.
She nodded. “I was approached by a high-ranking official in our country’s government who said he feared my skills were underutilized, underappreciated. We had dinner one night, and he opened my eyes to a whole new world. I joined the Masters’ Admiralty the next month.”
“The concept of a trinity marriage wasn’t disconcerting?” Karl asked. Like Antonio, he had admitted to being a legacy, someone raised within the society. There had to be a big difference between the members who had grown up with three parents rather than two, versus those who had no idea of the secret society operating within their midst.
“I wasn’t good at being a girl. I wasn’t before the military, and even worse after years of being surrounded by men. Prior to joining the society, I could count on one hand the number of men who’d viewed me as a romantic prospect.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Antonio said.
His comment elicited a big smile from Leila, and he considered her pleased responses to observations he believed to be obvious. She was a beautiful, sensual woman. Surely she knew that.
“Confidence doesn’t translate to experience,” she murmured. “It was several years before I acquired the knowledge I now possess in a more personal, sexual manner. Prior to that, I was a weapon myself, in love only with the gun in my hand.”
“I’m afraid I’m still a bit hazy on why a woman like you would join. If, as you say, you were inexperienced, wouldn’t the idea of two lovers in your bed rather than one be disconcerting?” Karl pressed.
She shook her head. “I didn’t… I had no idea how to go about getting a lover, a husband. An arranged marriage means I don’t have to worry about it. Joining the Masters’ Admiralty took that pressure off.”
“And what if your admiral chooses to put you in a trinity with a man and a woman?”
Leila winked suggestively. “While I may prefer a flesh-and-blood cock between my legs, there’s definitely something to be said for a woman’s touch.”
While she didn’t say it aloud, it was obvious Leila had shared sexual experiences with both sexes.
Before either of them could reply, the sommelier returned to pour the wine. He gave Antonio a small sample to approve before pouring for the others. The waiter came in just as the sommelier left to tell them about the chef’s specials for the evening before giving them time to look at the menus.
They each perused the dinner selections, discussing what sounded good, asking Antonio for suggestions.
Once their orders had been placed, there was a momentary conversational lull before Karl took a sip of the wine and sighed. “I’m due back at work next week. There are projects that can’t move forward until I check in and approve the next step of excavation.”
Antonio had known he couldn’t keep them with him, couldn’t keep them safe and close, indefinitely. He was faced with the difficult prospect of watching Leila and Karl return to their homes while Ciril was still out there.
“The admirals of your territories have been in contact with my father. They are aware of the danger.”
Antonio took a deep breath and stopped himself from saying more. Leila looked so lovely tonight; her blonde hair hung loose over her shoulders and looked so soft, he longed to touch it.
Every moment spent in her presence had become bliss. And torment.
He wanted her. More than that, he wanted her…and Karl.
As the silence at the table lingered, Karl and Leila’s gazes remained on him, and Antonio got a sense he’d said the wrong thing by saying nothing. Though they’d only known each other a short time, he felt closer to Leila and Karl than he could explain. He could only presume to liken it to soldiers who’d fought together during a deadly battle. The three of them shared a bond that couldn’t be severed.
When it was clear he wasn’t going to speak—he didn’t know what to say—Leila broke the silence. “The fleet admiral advised us to remain together.”
Karl nodded. “He did, but I think he assumed Ciril would be captured by now. No one realized he would be so elusive. The man is…an enigma. Hard to read. His personality, the things we observed about him, don’t seem to match the cunning way he’s evading us.”
“I don’t like simply sitting around waiting for something to happen. That’s not how I operate.”
Antonio appreciated Leila’s frustration. She was a security officer like him. They were brought in when decisive, deadly action was needed. Sitting around and watching the knights chase their own tails was driving him crazy as well.
He’d been the one to find Ciril, to make the connection between Karl and Leila’s kidnapping and the murders in the cave.
The pensiveness on both their faces was one of the reasons Antonio had brought them here in the first place. They all needed a break from this—from Ciril, the bad memories, the frustration and fear.
He topped up their wine glasses and lifted his in a toast. They followed his lead.
“Cin cin,” Antonio said, tapping his glass against theirs. “Let’s take tonight and enjoy each other’s company.”
Leila smiled, adding her own Finnish cheers to his. “Kippis!”
Karl laughed. “I believe the correct saying is proost.”
The dinner conversation turned away from the pain of the past few weeks and fear of the future and instead, they simply shared funny stories about their lives—from childhood or work. Antonio didn’t have lighthearted anecdotes about his place of employment, but Karl had them laughing with stories about the antics of his grad students, or the time he had to convince a government official that they’d found a piece of oddly-sh
aped mica, not a dragon egg.
They spoke of their families and friends, holidays they’d taken, countries they’d explored. One bottle of wine became two and the hours passed easily, enjoyably. It was almost like being back in Venice.
When it was finally time to head back to his father’s home, they stood, Antonio leading the way, intent on making certain everything was safe.
However, he paused at the door to their private room.
“Antonio?” Leila murmured when he didn’t move.
They were alone in this room. Once they left, they would be surrounded by danger, uncertainty, the politics of the Masters’ Admiralty. For just a few short hours, they’d had a chance to escape all of that, and Antonio was loath to give it up.
He turned to face them. “I’d like to kiss you, Leila.”
Typically, he didn’t kiss a woman unless he was sure she was receptive, which meant he didn’t awkwardly ask first. But after what she’d been through, the last thing Antonio wanted was to frighten her.
She tilted her head, studying his face with a slight smile. Then she looked at Karl. “What do you think, Dr. Klimek? Should I let the Italian kiss me?”
Karl took off his glasses, polished them, held them up to the light. “That’s a hard question to answer.”
Antonio narrowed his eyes.
Karl put his glasses back on. “Personally, I’m sorry I didn’t ask first. It’s sort of difficult to compete with that.” He jerked his head toward Antonio.
Leila smiled.
Humor wasn’t a common thing in his world. Antonio was aware he was too serious, a product of his upbringing, no doubt. Laughter had been common when he was growing up. His mothers had seen to that, though they were both formidable in their own ways. It was only once his father had taken an interest in him, when he was older, that he’d started to see laughter as a weakness.
Then Antonio considered Karl’s words. “Is it a competition?”
He was surprised when both Leila and Karl shook their heads, almost in perfect unison, with no hesitation.
“No competition,” Karl agreed.
“So…” Leila drawled. “Is this an all-talk, no-action sort of—”
Antonio cut her taunt off with his lips on hers. There was no wariness in the way she responded. She lifted her hands to his shoulders, parting her lips, their tongues touching.
He gripped her slim waist, keeping his touch light in deference to her still-healing ribs. She tasted like wine and the cassata they’d shared for dessert. Having her in his arms felt right.
When they parted, they turned toward Karl as one.
Karl’s eyes were dark, hungry, and the air in the room became thick with desire when he lifted one hand to cup Leila’s cheek. She pressed against it, nuzzling his palm.
“Leila,” Karl whispered.
Antonio sucked in a breath, taken away by the beauty of these two people, of how drawn he was to them, how much he longed to be a part of them.
He was raised by three parents, much loved by his two mothers. He understood the dynamics of a trinity, was undaunted—no, more than that, he was aroused as he watched Karl and Leila together. That was the part that was somewhat surprising to him. He’d dabbled in his fair share of ménages, but he’d never felt so much…need.
Karl bent his head to kiss her, the intensity in that touch almost palpable. It took everything Antonio had not to reach out, to pull them into his arms and be a part of that earth-shattering kiss.
As always, they seemed to be in tune with him, aware. Because they parted briefly, each of them reaching out to draw him into the circle. Antonio was reminded of the American football games he’d seen on television, the teams huddling close together. They pressed their heads together, a three-person hug, drawing in the same air, closing their eyes to savor the peace found in being together.
They remained that way for a few moments before breaking away.
Antonio had never felt loneliness in his life. Until he released them and walked away with the knowledge that they weren’t his to keep.
And time was running out.
Chapter Twelve
“Walk with me.”
As always, Antonio’s words sounded like a command, but she knew him well enough not to be offended by his seemingly high-handed nature. It was a request, and one she was glad to accept.
She and Karl had been sharing a paper while drinking their coffee in the sitting room near the bedrooms. There hadn’t been a repeat of last night’s kiss, and she’d only understood every other word or so of the paper because she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.
“That would be nice.” Leila got to her feet and reached over to tug the paper from in front of Karl’s face. “We’re going for a walk.”
Karl looked at her, then Antonio, and stood, stretching his arms overhead. He had more muscle than an academic had any right to. When he stretched, his shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of skin. She looked away, her gaze snagging on Antonio.
He was wearing a polo shirt with the logo for Cohortes Praetorianae on the breast. The band at the hem of his short sleeves hugged and cupped the muscles of his lean, defined arms.
Leila forced her gaze to the wall. Her libido was out of control.
“You will need walking shoes,” Antonio warned them.
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere on the grounds.”
A few minutes later, they were all ready. Leila had on a buttery-soft leather jacket she’d grabbed from Sophia’s closet. The woman had seriously excellent clothes, and Leila felt no shame in borrowing them.
If they’d been the same shoe size, Leila might have been tempted to put on a pair of Italian leather heels and pretend she was going to wear them for the walk, just to see her men’s faces.
Her men…for now. Their time together was going to end. They couldn’t stay in hiding forever.
Antonio took them down a back stairway, through a second library—they had to stop for a moment as Karl’s eyes lit up, and he walked over to a shelf to pull off several volumes, making sounds of awe. Antonio promised they could return later, and they walked out a set of iron-detailed glass doors onto the rear first-floor terrace. The moment they walked outside, Leila took a deep breath.
Antonio walked to the stone railing of the terrace, cast a dismissive glance over the panoramic view of the Italian countryside, and then turned his back to it, leaning his hips against the railing and crossing his arms.
The pose did nothing to calm her libido. His legs were long and lean. She wanted to bite his forearms. That sounded crazy, but the man had incredibly sexy forearms, all smooth brown skin and lean, powerful muscles.
Karl stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, kneading gently. “You look like you just relaxed.”
Leila hoped the bra she was wearing—a simple cotton number someone on the villa staff had procured for her—was thick enough to hide the fact that her nipples had tightened in response to even that simple touch. Now that she knew what they tasted like, what their lips felt like against hers, she wanted to grab Karl’s wrists and yank his hands down until those big palms covered her breasts.
“I like being outdoors.” She hoped they didn’t notice how breathy she sounded. “Fresh air. Nothing between you and the sky.” She squeezed Karl’s hand, then walked to the railing of the terrace. If she didn’t break the contact between them soon, she was going to do something she shouldn’t.
She leaned against the railing, close enough to Antonio that if she wanted, she could walk her fingers along the stone and slide her hand around his waist. Unfortunately, it was still far enough away that she wouldn’t actually do it.
She studied the view, her breath hitching when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Antonio shift to face her. On her other side, Karl walked up and braced his hands on the stone, leaning forward in a way that made his impressively huge biceps strain the material of his sleeves.
She liked being here like this—
between them, surrounded, protected. The feeling was unique. Her reasonable mind told her she was still reeling from the kidnapping and the torture. However, her heart was starting to scream that the way they made her feel had nothing to do with Ciril and everything to do with Antonio and Karl. Her body responded to them in a natural way that required no thought, no work. With them, she wasn’t Leila, the security officer, the warrior, the soldier.
She was a woman. Their woman.
“Walk?” she asked a bit desperately. Her cheeks were starting to flush, and it was becoming unbearably warm. Too much longer in this close proximity to them and she’d start stripping off her clothing. And she wouldn’t stop until she was naked…and under them.
“Yes,” Antonio said. “Come with me.”
Directly behind the villa was a large manicured lawn. She could image elegant parties taking place there—people wearing large hats to shade them from the golden sunlight and drinking wine out of heavy crystal glasses as they mingled and promenaded.
Antonio had probably grown up attending those parties—sliding around the legs of the adults, stealing treats from the dessert table, totally unfazed and unimpressed by the wealth and privilege.
Just another way she was different than the two of them.
Instead of heading for the grass, Antonio led them to a long driveway that ran along the side of the mansion. It was linked to the circular drive where they’d parked, yet she hadn’t even noticed it yesterday.
They started to walk in companionable silence.
“What is this?” Karl asked, gesturing to a large building on the right. The grassy lawn was to their left, the house now behind them.
“Temperature-controlled storage.”
The building was the size of a small airplane hangar, its size somewhat camouflaged by the large oaks that crowded against the three sides not facing the long driveway.