by Mari Carr
“And your parents caved?”
“No. I didn’t know anything about the Trinity Masters until I was eighteen years old.” Grant could still recall the night his grandparents and great-uncle—up until then, he’d always thought his “great-uncle” was just a close friend of his grandparents’ who’d gotten an honorary title—had shown up unannounced at his dorm at Stanford. They’d taken him out for a late dinner and blown his mind with their stories of the secret society and how it was his legacy. The promise of wealth, success and power were heady lures to a young man, and without his parents’ knowledge, he’d flown to Boston with his great-uncle—who in reality, could have been his biological grandfather—one weekend a few months later and joined.
“Were your parents upset when they learned you’d become a member?”
Initially, they’d been very angry—more at Grant’s grandparents than at him—but eventually they realized he fit in the organization in a way Grant’s dad wouldn’t have. “They came around. According to my grandmother, I’m very much like my grandfather’s father—in looks and personality. She believed that even if they hadn’t told me about the Trinity Masters, the society still would have found me. I’d like to think that’s true.”
“Interesting.”
“How about your family? Any siblings?”
Sebastian drummed his finger on his knee and glanced down the hallway once more. “I have an older brother and a younger sister. Though I guess they’re really half siblings. I’m the only child of my parents. My dad and Aunt Joyce had Christian and Chelsea.”
“Christian Stewart? The Broadway star.”
Sebastian nodded. “Heard of him, have you?”
“I saw him in Les Mis a couple of years ago. He was incredible as Javert.”
There was definite pride in Sebastian’s face when Grant complimented his brother. “Yeah. He’s a great actor.”
“He took your father’s name as well?”
“Stewart is actually his stage name. It was Christian’s sneaky way of taking our dad’s surname. His birth certificate says Christian Stewart Rogers.”
“I take it Rogers is your Aunt Joyce’s last name.”
“Yep.”
Grant shook his head. “I’ve been a member of the Trinity Masters for seventeen years, but I still struggle to figure out how people make these trinities work.”
“Yeah. I guess it would seem strange to someone who grew up the conventional way.”
“I suppose we’re facing a future of being someone’s uncle in the unconventional way.”
Sebastian nodded slowly, though he didn’t seem to agree. Grant couldn’t figure the man out. His actions and comments seemed counterproductive to what they were supposed to be accomplishing here. Sebastian said he’d accepted the trinity, but Grant didn’t believe that to be true.
Sebastian lifted the Scotch to his lips and took a long swig. Though he’d participated in the conversation, Grant got the impression Sebastian was still distracted by Elyse’s absence. He had obviously noticed she’d been crying too.
“How bad is the blood between you and Elyse?” Grant asked.
“What did she tell you?”
“She seems convinced your behavior at the altar was due to her presence there. That you’re unhappy with the match. Is that true?”
Sebastian didn’t reply immediately. Once again, Grant got the impression the man was measuring his words, studying the chess move before touching the piece. It was unnerving, annoying.
“It was true.”
Another vague response. Sebastian must be a very good CIA agent. He gave away nothing with his words.
“Was?”
“Let’s just say some new information has come to light. Something that’s making it easier to accept what’s happened.”
Grant was trained to deal with difficult people. He did it for a living. He had been praised for his ability to remain calm in even the tensest of situations. Maybe it was time he fell back on his training and stopped trying to approach this situation as a partner in a marriage. They were clearly thousands of miles away from anything even remotely as comfortable as that. So, he’d treat Sebastian and Elyse like opposing CEOs and tackle their issues that way.
“Elyse said the two of you grew up together?”
Sebastian nodded. “We attended the same private schools here in Boston. We were both legacies, always surrounded by money and privilege. We spent a great deal of time together when we were teenagers.”
“You were friends?”
Sebastian hesitated long enough that Grant knew his next words were going to be a lie. “Not exactly. We knew each other from school, our families belonged to the same country club, stuff like that.”
“It sounds like you had a lot in common.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I guess.”
“Sebastian, one of the vows we make when we join the Trinity Masters is to accept the Grand Master’s choice for our partners. I’ll admit I’m struggling to figure out exactly why she determined the three of us were a good match, but I suspect the reasons were there and they were sound. I take my commitments very seriously.”
Sebastian scowled. “As do I. I will obey the Grand Master in all things.”
Grant lifted his brows in a way that suggested that wasn’t obvious.
Sebastian put his glass down on the coffee table and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I’m committed to this triad, Grant. To learning everything necessary about you—and Elyse—to make this union one that proves advantageous to the Trinity Masters and to society.”
Grant’s success in his field lay in his ability to actively listen to what people said. And to what they didn’t say. Sebastian’s tone was earnest. And yet for some reason, his comments felt less like a vow to make their partnership a success and more like a threat.
Something had to give. They had seven days to sort out their lives and then three more weeks to put those plans into action. Grant was worried seven years wouldn’t be enough to make this union work.
Sebastian rubbed his eyes wearily, so Grant offered a reprieve.
“You hungry?” Grant asked.
If Sebastian was surprised by the sudden about-face, he gave no indication. Instead, he lifted one shoulder casually. “I could eat. You like Mexican?”
“I’m from L.A. What do you think?”
Sebastian grinned. “There’s a Papagayo near here. The food is really good.”
Anxious to break the tension that had been thick between them since entering the room, Grant narrowed his eyes good-naturedly. “Something tells me the East and the West have very different ideas about good Mexican food.”
Grant was pleased when Sebastian chuckled. “Maybe so, but it’s also a tequila bar.”
“Sold.”
For the first time since they’d met, Sebastian smiled, a genuine, friendly smile that sparked some hope.
Grant left Sebastian in the living room and walked down the hallway. He lightly knocked on Elyse’s door, entering the room after she bade him to come in. She was sitting on the bed, looking surprisingly fragile.
His first thought when she’d pulled back her hood in the room was that she was breathtakingly beautiful. But more than that, he saw the undeniable strength in her posture, in the way she threw her head back proudly. He’d seen the fear in her bright green eyes, in the way she all but dared them to reject her. It had made him want to take her into his arms and hold her tightly. She called to the alpha male in him, the one who thrived on holding on to and protecting what was his.
He was fairly certain a woman like Elyse wouldn’t appreciate his archaic desires. Unfortunately, Grant had never been very good at subterfuge. According to his mother, what you saw was what you got with him. Sometimes she made that sound like a compliment. More often than not, she didn’t see it as a positive character trait.
Elyse’s eyes were still red and slightly puffy. She’d been crying again, but given the way she stood up and walked to the
mirror, turning her back to him, it was obvious she didn’t want him to see that.
“What’s up?” she asked in a carefree voice that didn’t fool him for a minute as she found a compact. She started pressing some powder on her face. Even with the tear-stained cheeks, she was one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen. He had recognized her name and face the moment the Grand Master had announced it at the altar. As Elyse said, it wasn’t uncommon to see her picture on the front of the tabloids or splashed across Instagram. His first thought had been that she was even more beautiful in person.
“We’re going out to dinner,” he said.
She turned slightly, before returning to face the mirror. “Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll see you later then.”
Grant smirked. She wasn’t getting out of it that easily. “We’re going out, Elyse. You, me and Sebastian. Grab your coat.”
Elyse turned around at that, responding with annoyance to his imperious tone. Good. She had a fighting spirit. It gave him no joy to see her sad, to see her struggling. If he had to piss her off to spark a little life into her, he’d do it…and love every minute of it.
“Excuse me?”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “You heard me. Grab your coat. I’m hungry.”
“I think maybe we need to get a few things clear, Mr. Breton. I don’t appreciate being told to do anything. I’m not a dog who heels and I’m not a soldier under your command.”
He grinned. “So noted. And I agree with you. We don’t know each other. Closed doors and silent treatments aren’t going to help that. Am I right?”
Elyse appeared chagrined. “You are.”
“You like Mexican?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes. I do.”
“Then that makes three of us. I’d say we’re well on our way to finding quite a bit of common ground.” Grant walked into her bedroom and picked up the coat she had dropped at the foot of her bed. He’d been a gentleman thus far, keeping his distance, but he’d be damned if he would resist the urge to touch her a minute longer.
Elyse turned so he could help her into her coat, and then sank back without hesitation when he tugged on her shoulders, pressing her back to his chest.
“You’re very beautiful, Elyse.”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “Thank you. I’m sorry I snapped at you. And I’m sorry I closed myself in here. I just needed a few minutes to myself.”
“Understandable. We’ve all just experienced a life-altering event. Takes time to adjust.” With any luck, Grant would have a big portion of the walls standing between them knocked down by the end of the night.
“Ready to go?” Sebastian stood at the doorway, watching them with an expression Grant couldn’t read.
Jealousy?
Given Sebastian’s actions at the altar and his comments earlier, that feeling seemed unlikely. And yet…
Grant was a man of action. He’d spent too many years dealing with people who’d made dragging their feet an art form. It was time to see exactly where the three of them stood.
Keeping his hands on Elyse’s shoulders, he turned until they both faced Sebastian, then he bent forward and placed a kiss on her cheek.
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.
Yep. Definitely jealousy.
Elyse didn’t attempt to pull away, though Grant felt her stiffen slightly, surprised by his actions.
Upping the ante, he drew his hands down along her arms before wrapping them loosely around her waist. Elyse’s breathing accelerated, but to her credit, she held her ground.
They were virtual strangers. And yet, they were about to embark on a lifelong relationship. That knowledge drove Grant to push the limits far faster than he would have if he were merely on a first date with someone.
Sebastian remained silent, still as a statue by the door. His gaze followed the motion of Grant’s hands.
“Grant,” Elyse whispered.
He kept his arms around her, though his attention was on Sebastian. “We all knew this day was coming. Knew what it meant to join the Trinity Masters. We understood what we were giving up. And what we were gaining.”
He tightened his grip, letting Elyse feel exactly how much she was affecting him. His cock had hardened the moment he’d seen her lying on her bed, looking so lost and lonely.
For years, he’d worried that he wouldn’t feel an attraction to his spouse or spouses. Sex was something he enjoyed a great deal. His desires were darker than most, stronger, hell—kinkier. So, he’d spent the past seventeen years indulging them…just in case he was matched with less-adventurous souls.
“You’re going to be my wife, Elyse,” Grant continued, his hand rising to cup one breast. She gasped in surprise, but the nipple budded and her body relaxed under his hands.
More common ground.
“Our wife,” Sebastian said, drawing their attention back to him. “She’s going to be our wife.”
Up until that moment, Grant had gotten the feeling Sebastian was still resistant to the union, determined to buck the Grand Master’s edict.
And for the first time since he’d taken her in his arms, Elyse tried to pull away.
Also interesting.
She didn’t have a problem being Grant’s wife, but she wouldn’t accept that same declaration from Sebastian. Whatever came between them in the past was still an issue. They had their work cut out for them.
There was a delicate balance to be met if this relationship was going to succeed. It meant all the players needed to be invested. They needed to accept it.
Grant refused to let go of her. He tightened his grip on her breast until she moaned, her hips pressing against his crotch in a way that betrayed her need for more.
“Our wife,” Grant repeated, making sure Elyse understood exactly what that meant. She wouldn’t get him without Sebastian.
They knew what membership entailed and Grant intended to see that promise was kept.
He twisted her so that she faced him, tipping her head up until their eyes connected. “And we’re your husbands. You’re ours to protect, Elyse. To care for, to love. You’ve been crying.”
She tried to lower her eyes, to look away, but he cupped her jaw, giving her no reprieve.
“I hope that some day you’ll trust us enough to let us in, to tell us what you’re feeling. Granted this relationship is a bit unconventional…”
One side of her mouth lifted in a grin that seemed to scream you can say that again.
He forged on. “And maybe this isn’t what we would have chosen for ourselves, but that doesn’t mean I’m not committed to it. To you and Sebastian.”
The sadness in Elyse’s eyes seemed to fade. “I’m committed to it too.”
Together, they turned to face Sebastian. His face was troubled, his jaw set, eyes dark. Finally he said, “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make this work.”
There was something about the way Sebastian said this that left Grant wondering what he was referring to.
Grant’s frustration returned, but he realized no good would come of it. Rome wasn’t built in a day. He’d simply have to keep trying.
“Let’s go get some dinner.”
Thirty minutes and two shots of tequila later, Grant finally felt the tension leave his shoulders. Unlike the limo ride, there had been a steady flow of polite conversation in the taxi that had carried over to the table. They hadn’t discussed anything deeply personal, but both Sebastian and Elyse had proven themselves to be interesting, intelligent people who shared the same sense of humor.
The three of them had managed to hit the restaurant right between the lunch and dinner crowd, so the place was fairly empty, save for another couple who were seated at a table nearby.
Grant talked a bit about his last project in Dallas, Sebastian spoke about his visit to Istanbul earlier in the month, and Elyse had just returned from a brief sojourn to Scotland. Soon, they were listing all the places they’d visited. While Sebastian and Elyse had taken extensive trips abroad, neither
of them could hold a candle to the long list of states Grant had in his travelogue thanks to work.
Sebastian’s ability to recall street and restaurant names was astounding, and Elyse had a unique talent for describing a place with so much detail, Grant felt as if he’d been there. Despite all his traveling, he had very little to show for it. His recollections of a journey typically held no more information than what the airports and hotels looked like.
The waitress stopped by to refill Elyse’s iced tea glass, then she looked at him. “Can I get you another tequila flight?”
He and Sebastian had decided to do an impromptu tasting along with their late lunch/early dinner. Grant shook his head. “No, thank you.”
He still had one more shot to try and while he was enjoying the relaxed heat provided by the Don Julio, there were quite a few hours between now and bedtime. He needed a clear head.
“Grant,” Elyse leaned closer, “I need to ask you something. How detrimental would a relationship with me be to your career?”
He frowned. “Excuse me?”
Elyse glanced toward the couple at the other table. “The woman over there has figured out who I am. She just snapped a couple of pictures with her phone. I suspect our photo is going to start making the rounds on social media tonight, and by morning, the tabloids will have us romantically linked on the front page. I’m afraid my relationships are always blown out of proportion. And then,” Elyse glanced at Sebastian anxiously, “there have been some other accusations as well.”
Sebastian’s brow furrowed, but Grant didn’t ask her to elaborate. He knew exactly what she was talking about. In addition to the steady stream of gossip about who Elle Hunt was dating, there had been more than a few covers dedicated to whether or not she had a drug problem like her brother. One of the last headlines he’d read featured an unflattering picture someone had taken of her leaving the doctor’s office—she’d clearly been sick—that wondered if Elle Hunt would meet the same unfortunate end her twin had.
While he appreciated her desire to protect his image, Grant wasn’t worried. From now on, he’d make it his mission to keep the goddamn paparazzi away from her. “I suspect an association with you could only improve my business. As I said, corporate mergers are damned dull.”