by Mari Carr
Rose was way too delighted. “I want to be invited to all future binding ceremonies.”
“Request denied,” Sebastian snarled. Juliette was surprised he’d managed to hold his tongue this long.
“Listen, Rose. I was hoping you would talk to Langston. I think the two of you are…” Juliette tried to decide if Rose would think “kindred spirits” was a compliment or a dare. The last thing she needed was Langston as a loose cannon.
Before she had the chance to figure it out, the desk phone rang.
This was a secured line, something akin to the president’s red phone. A quick glance at Franco and Sebastian revealed their surprise. Though Sebastian looked more alarmed than surprised. Very few people had this number. Very few. And those who did were extremely powerful leaders.
Juliette stood, walked over to the desk and picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“Grand Master.” The caller was a woman with an elegant accent. “It is a pleasure to speak with you. This is Sophia Starabba.”
Juliette didn’t recognize the name. Who the hell gave her this number?
But that accent. It was Italian. Italy meant Europe, which meant…nothing but trouble.
“Ms. Starabba. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
At the table, everyone was quiet, all eyes focused on her. She spoke the name aloud while looking at Sebastian. If it had been just her, Sebastian, and Franco in the room, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put it on speakerphone, but with their guests there, she couldn’t do that.
“That is something that troubles me, as I think you and I would quite enjoy one another’s company.”
Franco had come over and leaned in close enough to hear both sides of the conversation. He grabbed a pen and piece of paper and wrote, “Flirting? Girl on girl?”
Juliette placed her hand gently over his face and pushed him away. She felt him smile against her palm. He was the light to her and Devon’s brooding darkness. Their trinity had been forged in fire, and it seemed that would never change. There was always something going on, always another crisis.
It was one of the reasons she could never…
Her gaze slipped to Carly, glowing in pregnancy, and then away.
“Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded, no longer willing to play whatever game this was.
There was a beat of silence. “I believe you know one of my husbands. Arthur, though when you knew him, he went by Tristan.”
Juliette glanced at Rose, then grabbed the paper Franco had used, scribbling “Tristan’s wife” and holding it up where Rose could see.
Rose’s eyes widened, then she turned to the other women. “Everyone but Sebastian and Franco, get out.”
Alexis frowned. Carly started to object. Juliette covered the phone receiver and whispered, “Thank you. I’ll be in touch.”
“Get. Out,” Rose snapped.
Heads turned toward Juliette, and she nodded once, giving them permission to leave, even as she said, “A moment, please,” into the phone.
Once Carly and Alexis were gone, she carried the cordless handset to the conference table, resuming her seat there. “Tristan. I remember him. Hard to forget the man who delivers the ultimatums.”
“I, too, find him memorable, but most likely in a different way,” Sophia laughed, and it was a sexy, husky sound.
Juliette set the phone on the table and hit the speaker button.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?” Juliette asked.
“There is something I’m hoping you might be able to assist me with.”
“A personal favor?” Juliette asked.
“No, no, no.” Sophia’s Italian accent made the denials sound lyrical. “I am calling on behalf of the Masters’ Admiralty.”
Sebastian looked grim, Franco doodled a picture of a shoe dropping, and Rose stared at the phone as if it were a snake. Or maybe she was the snake and the phone was prey.
“Can I ask you something first?” Juliette kept her voice as smooth as Sophia’s.
“Of course.”
“Where’s Eric?”
Chapter Four
“The fleet admiral is indisposed,” Sophia said calmly.
She may have sounded calm, but her stomach was tight. She glanced at her husbands, their grim expressions matching her own. They’d decided to play a dangerous game by reaching out to the Americans, but it was a necessary evil. Despite the recent death of their society’s greatest enemy, they were not safe. Not yet.
And somehow it had fallen to her to protect them all.
Before he’d disappeared, Eric Ericsson had conferred upon her the ability to confirm trinities, a duty that normally belonged only to the fleet admiral. However, there were many other fleet admiral duties and authorities that he hadn’t bothered to pass off to anyone.
She’d stepped into the gaping hole Eric had left, and, at least for now, that solution was holding. Technically, she held no title in their society, but in reality, she was the principessa, and she had a certain reputation, which, combined with her alliances and affiliations, made her a dangerous woman to cross. In her civilian life she was—well, had been—a member of Italy’s Carabinieri and served on an Interpol task force specializing in art crimes. She’d taken down the rich and powerful who traded in stolen works of art, fearlessly launching investigations that put those who considered themselves above the law in jail.
But the nickname principessa came from being the daughter of Giovanni Starabba, the former Admiral of Rome, and one of the most feared leaders in the Masters’ Admiralty. Her father had taught her, both explicitly and by example, how to manipulate men and women, how to use power and information as leverage. Now she lived in London instead of Rome, but given her close ties to two current admirals—her husband and brother, respectively—she was uniquely positioned within Europe’s oldest and most powerful secret society.
It was probably why Eric had tapped her to confirm trinities. She was just taking that small bit of authority and running with it.
If this didn’t work, if she couldn’t get the Americans to do what she needed them to do, she might face the wrath of the other seven admirals, who would have every right to tell her she was overstepping.
She was balanced on the razor’s edge, and the American Grand Master might just be the one to knock her off.
“He’s indisposed,” Sophia repeated. “I’m calling on his behalf.”
“I don’t think so. I deal with the Viking or no one. Where’s Eric?”
Juliette looked around the table. Most of her dealings with the Masters’ Admiralty had been with Eric, or Sophia’s husband, Arthur, née Tristan. She didn’t know Sophia, and something in this woman’s voice had her Spidey senses on full alert.
“I assure you, I am calling at the fleet admiral’s behest,” the Italian woman said.
“You’ll excuse me if I don’t just take your word for it,” Juliette said, glancing around at her team.
Her team. That was nice. When she’d first stepped into her position as Grand Master, she’d felt overwhelmed, out of her element and terribly alone—no spouses, no family.
Her father had betrothed her, promised her into a trinity with Devon and Rose when she was just a child. She’d dissolved that five minutes after assuming her role as leader of the secret society, and in so doing, had ensured there was no one to help her find her way. Devon had been there, loved her even when she’d pushed him away, but it had taken time for her to accept that.
And her brother had been here, still in Boston, but she’d been pissed as hell at him for failing to uphold his end of the deal. Running the Trinity Masters was Harrison’s job, one she’d been perfectly willing to let him do until he grew too old or died, at which point, his oldest son or daughter would have assumed the role.
Harrison had fucked that all up, which meant Juliette had been forced to give up a job she loved and return to Boston. Those first few weeks had been painful and frightening.
Slow
ly, however, over the past couple of years, she’d fallen in love and married and forged the strongest friendships of her life—with Sebastian and Rose, as well as others.
“If you will excuse me a moment, I will ask Arthur to join us. Perhaps that would help?” Sophia said.
“Yes, thank you.”
There was a moment of silence, but before Juliette could put the call on mute and have a quick conference with her team, a voice came on the line.
“Hello again, Grand Master.” The clipped British accent sounded like what she remembered of Tristan.
A sad look came over Rose’s face, and she nodded, confirming his identity.
“The fleet admiral is busy elsewhere but has tasked my spouse with handling a little problem.”
“Ah, and what exactly is Ms. Starabba’s position? So I know how to address her…”
“Looking for information?” Sophia was back on the phone, laughing lightly. “I’m surprised you don’t already know. Marek isn’t forthcoming?”
That was a low blow. Marek, who was a newer member of the Trinity Masters, had actually grown up in Europe, a legacy to the Masters’ Admiralty. However, Marek was nothing if not honorable, and he either hadn’t known, or more likely hadn’t been willing to share, every detail he knew about the European secret society.
The only reason Marek had joined the Trinity Masters was to marry Rose and their third, Weston.
Juliette looked at Rose, hoping the woman could—silently—give her some insight on how to handle this call.
Rose shrugged, then grabbed Franco’s paper away from him, quickly scrawling, Hear her out.
Though it took Juliette a moment to decipher the words. Rose’s handwriting was worse than a serial killer’s. Of course…perhaps that fit.
Juliette grabbed the paper back, writing, You trust her?
Rose shook her head and mouthed the words, “I trust Tristan.”
Was that good enough? Juliette looked at Sebastian, who was frowning and shaking his head. He and Devon were birds of a feather.
Then, foolishly, she glanced at Franco, perfectly aware that her husband was dying of curiosity regarding this call. If she hung up now without hearing Sophia out, the man would spontaneously combust.
Sure enough, he tapped his fingertips and thumb together in the universal “talk” signal.
“You need a favor,” Juliette said.
“I do.”
“You may not be aware of this, but Eric already owes me several favors. You said that you’re calling on behalf of the society. That means the Masters’ Admiralty will owe me yet again.”
“The scales are uneven,” Sophia replied. “I hope not to add to the imbalance.”
“You want me to do this…whatever it is…out of the goodness of my heart?” People had a tendency to assume that she would do things just to be kind or caring because she was a young woman. Her age and gender didn’t negate that she was, first and foremost, Grand Master, arguably one of the top ten most powerful people in the country. She could be, would be, ruthless if needed.
“I would not insult you by asking that.”
Juliette’s brows rose in surprise, as Sophia’s words were genuine. Maybe the Italian woman knew what it was like to be dismissed.
“I would instead ask that, once you have heard my request, you name a price. A payment to be made now, rather than held for later.”
“And if I’d rather wait and get my favor from Eric?”
Every time the American said Eric’s name, Sophia winced. She glanced at Arthur, whose brow was furrowed. They were at home, and he wasn’t wearing his prosthetic, so the lower part of his right sleeve hung empty. When their gazes met, Arthur shook his head once.
James was on her other side. He put his hand on her thigh and squeezed. In contrast to Arthur, he smiled and nodded.
One husband said stop, the other said keep going.
Sophia straightened her spine and shook back her hair. Juliette couldn’t see her, but the posture helped her project the confidence she needed. Time to try a different approach. “The Vikings were not known for their contract negotiation skills.”
There was a beat of silence before Juliette replied. “True.”
“An unnamed, unquantified,” wait, was that even a word in English? Stupid clunky language, “favor without strictures or a time limit is something I cannot offer you, simply because it is, if you don’t mind my saying so, a terrible bargain.”
“Are you calling Eric stupid?” Juliette sounded almost amused.
“Not to his face,” Sophia said with a smile.
That surprised a laugh out of the Grand Master. “Fair enough. So you don’t want to owe me a favor, and think Eric shouldn’t have agreed to a random future favor.”
Sophia sagged in relief because in that moment, she knew this was going to work. “My family can trace its lineage to the senators of ancient Rome, where discourse was an art.”
“If that’s true, it means the Masters’ Admiralty had their best negotiator call me. This must be quite the ask.”
It took Sophia a second to parse out that phrasing, but she figured it out. “Rather what I’m about to ask is, yes, a favor, but not one worth acquiring a debt.”
Juliette grabbed the sheet of paper Franco had laid down. Her people had been yanking it back and forth between themselves writing notes and ideas as she talked. She grabbed it, snatched the pen from Sebastian and wrote, They don’t want Eric to promise me any more unspecified favors.
One by one, Sebastian, Franco and Rose nodded their agreement with her assessment. Interesting. Someone in the Masters’ Admiralty—apparently someone named Sophia Starabba—had enough power to stand up to the fleet admiral and stop him from promising her things.
Sebastian grabbed the paper and wrote counselor, then underlined it twice.
It was the same thing she was thinking. Eric, like her, didn’t rule unchecked. She had counselors who would step in if she broke their laws—as Price had done with Harrison. Apparently Eric had the same.
The silence had stretched while they talked via notepad, and Sophia cleared her throat. “As I said, Grand Master, there is a reason I, and not the fleet admiral, called you.”
“I understand.” Juliette leaned her arms on the table, staring into middle distance and imagining she was staring down the woman on the other end of the phone. “But I can’t promise you anything.”
“Will you agree to name a reasonable recompense, once you hear what I’m asking?”
“Something I deem reasonable. Then it’s up to you to decide if you agree with my definition.”
“Understandable.”
“Okay, I think we understand one another. What do you need?”
“Langston Hayden.”
“No.”
For the first time, Juliette sounded angry, and Sophia winced, hoping she hadn’t just undone the trust she’d built.
Trying to take an American citizen as a member had been a risky idea, one she hadn’t wanted to chance.
That idiot Lancelot. She’d only asked because the knight had saved her and James from being kidnapped by a serial killer, and his new wife, Sylvia, was rather homesick. Having one of her brothers as a member might make her happy, and it would certainly help with their current situation.
“He is not available to consult?” Sophia asked, all faux confusion while mentally backpedaling.
“Consult?” Juliette sounded wary.
“We needed Langston’s expertise on an issue we’re having. As you know, we recently defeated an…old foe. However, he left a network in place that we have been attempting to disassemble.” This was all truth and an understatement. The Bellator Dei weren’t just remnants of some criminal network. “Langston’s firsthand experience with an explosive created by our enemy is crucial to our correctly identifying several explosives we’ve recently uncovered.”
“Interesting.”
Arthur hung his head, his shoulders slumping. Sophia looked at James, who
rose and went to their husband, pulling him in for a hug. Arthur hadn’t wanted to say anything about the new bombs because that would reveal they were still under attack, still weak because they were fighting an unseen, guerilla-tactic enemy.
“Please understand, Grand Master, that my sharing this information with you is a sign of my respect for you.”
“I think you mean trust.”
“Can I trust you?” Sophia asked.
“Can I trust you?”
“Four days of Langston’s time. He may bring personal guards if you wish, but we will, of course, protect him while he is here.”
“I won’t send him into a war zone.”
“The devices are in a lab, being examined by one of our experts. Since we don’t have access to any records about the device on Guam—and I assumed that request would carry far too high a price—I am hoping Langston can tell us if the devices in question were made by the same man.”
“You’re right that I wouldn’t give you classified military files.” There was a long pause, and this time Sophia let the silence hang.
“Four days,” the Grand Master said slowly. “And I’m sending two people with him. But they’re not guards, so I expect some sword-wielding knights to protect them.”
Sophia sagged with relief. “Of course, Grand Master. And in exchange for this, what can I do for you?”
“I have an idea, but first a few more conditions.”
Merda. “Yes?”
“Put them up someplace safe but romantic.”
Sophia glanced at her husbands, then looked at the phone. “That can be arranged. May I ask why?”
“Because Langston just got married. A trip to Europe will make a good honeymoon, don’t you think?”
Sophia realized there had never been a real chance that the Americans would give up the Hayden brothers. Juliette was recruiting them, initiating them as members, then marrying them as quickly as possible. It was the same thing Sophia would have done in her position.
“There is no place in the world more beautiful than Italy. I will personally plan their trip.”