Secret Scandal (Trinity Masters Book 7)

by Lila Dubois

  She paused there and pursed her lips as if she were going to say more, but she shook her head and when she started talking again, it left the sense that she’d shifted her story deliberately to avoid something.

  “I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I was in college. Joining the Trinity Masters gave me some direction. Plus I knew I never wanted to get married, not the kind of married my parents had been. For other people, the arranged marriage and no possibility of divorce is probably a deal breaker. For me, it was a way to escape the fate of my parents.”

  That settled over them, and they each took a minute to digest the revelations so far.

  “Relationships?” Eli asked her.

  Irina smiled and wiggled her eyebrows. “I took advantage of the fact that I was free to do whatever I wanted before I was called to the altar. Always casual. Plenty of experimentation. I can’t claim anything as fancy as having come to a fetish hotel. But I tried to embody GGG.”

  “What’s that?”

  “‘Good, giving, and game.’ Be good in bed, be giving in bed, and be game to try anything and everything.”

  Jasper smiled at that. Damn he liked this woman. “Now that we’re talking about sex—”

  “Are we?” Eli looked a bit panicky.

  “Hold on.” Irina held up her hand. “We can’t talk about sex.”

  “I agree,” Eli said, “but, uh, why not?”

  “Because first we have to decide if we’re in this together.” Irina focused on Eli. “If you’re still planning on leaving, then say so now.”

  Eli raised his gaze to the faux-tent ceiling. He couldn’t ignore their focus. Their regard—and the accompanying expectation—was practically a physical weight, like one of those lead blankets dentists use to protect the body during X-rays.

  He was gathering his thoughts, but apparently he took too long, because Jasper cut in.

  “I don’t want to spend my life with someone who resents me and the relationship.”

  Eli turned his head, looking at Jasper. Jasper’s eyes were crinkled in the corners, not with mirth, but with concern, maybe regret.

  “You and I,” Jasper waved a hand between them, “were never going to be an easy match. And that was before Denver. I’m not denying I screwed up. Frankly, we all did. But I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with someone who hates me, or who is waiting for me to fuck up so they can blame me.”

  Eli looked to Irina. She nodded her agreement as Jasper spoke.

  When Jasper fell silent, she added, “If you don’t want to be a part of this trinity, then when we get back to Boston, tell the Grand Master. I’ve heard that when you go back for the official marriage, you can say you’re not a good fit. Maybe, because we have the Rodin, the Grand Master will just break this trinity. She’d want us to be strong, and if we explain that you’d rather suffer the wrath of the Trinity Masters than be with us…”

  Irina’s voice cracked slightly toward the end of the sentence. Jasper leaned to the side, stretching out his arm to capture Irina’s hand. She laced her fingers between his as she cleared her throat, clearly fighting back tears.

  Eli looked at them—their bond was formed. Unsurprising, given what Jasper had told him about their rescue of him. Maybe they’d go back to the Grand Master and she’d keep Jasper and Irina together, give them another third. Eli would be assigned to a different trinity.

  And he’d never see Irina or Jasper again. Never touch or kiss them. Never argue with Jasper about art, or get knocked on his ass by Irina. Never know what it was like to lay between them, to grow old with them.

  He cleared his throat, drawing their attention. “What I said, in the parking lot, was true in that moment. I worked hard to get where I am, and while being an art history professor might not seem like much, it’s important to me. I’d given up on being called to the altar, so my career was all I had to focus on. In that moment, I did blame both of you.

  “But I was grieving. I was in shock. I was not emotionally prepared for what happened.” Eli took a deep breath. “You’re mine. The two of you. We belong to each other.”

  Irina scrambled off her seat, leapt across the low ottoman, and threw herself onto Eli’s chest. Eli stroked her back as she tucked her head under his chin. Jasper slid over, wrapping his arm around Irina’s back and resting his forehead against Eli’s shoulder.

  “We’ll make it right,” Jasper said. “I have an idea. We’ll fix your life, and then you and Irina can be the married couple and I’ll—”

  Irina’s head snapped up so fast she clocked Eli’s jaw, making him bite his tongue. He grunted and slid Irina off his lap, onto Jasper’s. “You’re dangerous. Here, you take her.”

  “So when she’s dangerous, she’s my responsibility?” Jasper’s eyes sparkled with mirth.

  “Yep.” Eli dabbed at his tongue with his finger. No blood.

  Jasper’s eyes slid to the coffee table. Eli followed his gaze, wondering why a piece of furniture was making Jasper leer in that manner. Then he saw the chains dangling from the legs.

  Oh. Ohhhh.

  “We will come back to what you two just said, and I will kick both your asses,” Irina threatened. “But first we need to address what Jasper said. What are you talking about? What does that mean, that Eli and I will be the married couple?”

  Jasper frowned. “My parents—my foster parents, I mean, the people who took me in—were members of the Trinity Masters. Two women and a man. I lived with Alan and Becca. They were legally married, on top of being married under the laws of the Trinity Masters. As far as the rest of the world knew, they were a normal married couple, but Becca’s best friend, Annie, who never married, was a very close family friend. I called her Aunty Annie, but she was also my mother. In a lot of ways, I was closer with her than with Becca. Annie was an artist. She understood my passion for art and archaeology in a way Mom and Dad didn’t.

  “My parents didn’t have any biological children. Dad was an FBI agent and injured on the job before he was married. He couldn’t have kids. That’s why they fostered. But Aunty Annie—because she was pretending to just be a family friend—never got to be the mom who woke up in the middle of the night with the kids, or went to parent-teacher conferences. I lived with Annie on and off once I graduated high school. That’s why I know she always regretted not getting to experience that. She told me how hard it had been for her. She warned me about that part of being in the Trinity Masters. In her words, it was hard, really hard, to be the one on the outside.

  Jasper picked up Irina’s and Eli’s hands. At his urging, they laced their fingers together. Jasper kissed their linked fists.

  “When I heard you,” he kissed Eli’s knuckles, “call you,” now he kissed Irina’s, “his fiancée, I suddenly saw myself in Annie’s position.” He leaned his head back against the wall. “Saw myself spending my life part of a family in private, but to the outside world, I’d always be alone.”

  Eli felt sick to his stomach. “That’s never…never what I’d intended. I didn’t even think about it like that.”

  Jasper shook his head. “It makes more sense for it to be the two of you.”

  “No, no. It should be the two of you. I’m—”

  “Hold it.” Irina detangled herself from the two of them and slid off the cushions to perch on the edge of the table. Jasper’s eyes darted from her to the chains and he sat forward a bit, like a cat lowering his shoulder before the pounce. Eli wondered idly if he should warn her of the peril. But in this analogy, he was Jasper’s fellow predator, rather than an ally of the prey.

  Irina frowned at Jasper. “Your dad was an FBI agent?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was your mom? The one married to him, I mean.”

  “She was in local politics.”

  “Local?” Irina prodded.

  “She was the city manager of New York.”

  “Local politics…” Irina shook her head, clearly exasperated. “Your parents both had jobs that made their personal
lives subject to scrutiny. Of course they had to pretend to be married.”

  Jasper shook his head, but Irina held her hand up, stopping him.

  “Do either of you have morality clauses in your employment contract? What would happen if anyone you work with found out you lived in a house with a woman and another man?”

  Eli paused to consider. “They might think it’s weird, but I don’t think I’d get fired. I mean it hardly matters, since I stole a Rodin and I’m already fired, but I take your point.”

  Jasper had stopped shaking his head. “Uh, actually, nothing would happen to me.”

  “Do you even have a job?” Eli asked.

  Jasper grinned. “I do, and if you knew what it was, you’d be pissed.”

  Eli felt a growl rumbling in his chest. Jasper must have heard it, because his grin widened.

  “So really, I’m the only one with a traditional job. I’m based in D.C. now, and I’m assuming I’ll be relocated to one of your cities. When I do, I’ll just keep quiet about my personal life. I’m in the private sector, and the owner of my company is living openly with his trinity.” She spread her hands. “I say we do the same.” Irina’s expression shifted to a frown and she muttered, “Except that I probably don’t have a job anymore. I keep forgetting that.”

  Jasper looked stunned. “I just always assumed… Well damn. That could work.”

  “I agree with her.” Eli was done with this topic. There were more pressing things to discuss. “What is your job, Jasper?”

  “I’m not going to tell you.”

  Maybe he was a professor too. An archaeology professor? No, that wasn’t possible. If he was running around stealing things, when would he have time to publish?

  “Eli, we’re talking about our future here…” Irina poked him with her foot.

  “Live together. Fuck people’s opinions. Check.” Eli grabbed Irina’s foot, pulling it into his lap, but kept his gaze on Jasper. “What do you do?”

  Jasper pursed his lips, then inched away from him. “Irina, you can stop him, right?”

  “I could, but you’re both annoying me right now, so I’m going to let him hit you.”

  “You wound me, woman. You do.”

  “I’m going to wound you if you don’t tell me,” Eli growled. “I’m normally not a violent man, but you inspire me to it.”

  Jasper grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “I’m a scholar-in-residence at the Smithsonian.”

  Eli blacked out for a moment from sheer horror. “They… I… You…”

  Jasper hummed and rubbed his hands together like a cartoon villain. “I have credentials that get me into all the archives and storage areas. All that lovely art, just waiting to come home with me.”

  Eli lunged for Jasper, who leapt up, putting Irina between them.

  “Stop torturing him,” Irina chided. “Eli, I’m sure he’s joking about taking the art home with him.”

  Jasper doubled over with laughter. Eli took a minute to compose himself. Hands on hips, he dropped his head and blew out a breath. Irina threw up her hands and wandered over to the stairs, heading to the second floor of their strange accommodations.

  “Are you actually a scholar-in-residence at the Smithsonian?” he finally asked.

  “I’m so sorry, but I really am.” Jasper had stopped laughing, though his eyes still sparkled. “You recognized my name, right? Where did you first hear about me?”

  “When I was… When I spent three months at the Smithsonian.” Eli paused. “Wait, do they know?”

  “The director is the one who nicknamed me Indiana Jones.”

  Eli was having trouble with this. “And they trust you? Not to, uh, steal art from the museum to hang in your house?”

  “Well…” Jasper pursed his lips again. “I have an A. Culver hanging above my toilet.”

  Eli’s muscles tensed with the need to strangle him, but he forced himself to relax. “I know you’re joking, but I still want to throttle you.”

  “Actually, this time I’m not joking.”

  “You stole a piece by A. Culver, a seminal American contemporary artist, from the Smithsonian, and hung it over your toilet?” Eli realized his voice was getting louder, but couldn’t stop himself.

  “You know A. Culver?”

  “Now you assume that just because I’m an art historian, I don’t know about contemporary artists?”

  Jasper shrugged. “I was just surprised.”

  “Stop changing the subject. Which painting did you steal?”

  “Who said anything about steal?”

  Eli growled.

  Jasper laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re just too much fun to tease. I didn’t steal it. A. Culver. Anne Culver…” Jasper’s voice trailed away.

  Eli frowned, but it didn’t take long for him to put the pieces together. “Anne Culver is your Aunty Annie?”

  Jasper nodded. “I don’t talk about it much, but people know. That’s part of why I’m where I am. Her name opens doors.”

  “I’d say so.” Eli was jealous of Jasper, growing up with one of America’s most outspoken and brilliant artists as a parent. Then he immediately felt guilty and disloyal to his own parents. “Oh, we never talked about what we were going to tell our families.”

  Jasper shrugged. “Mine won’t be the issue. Maybe don’t tell them anything.”

  Eli snorted. “You ever tried to keep anything from an old Chinese woman?”

  “No, can’t say I have.”

  “Then trust me, we’d better have our stories straight.” Eli grimaced. “Lao lao is the one we need to worry about.”

  “Terrifying grandmother. I’ll put it on the list of things to worry about.”

  They spent a few minutes comparing notes on mutual acquaintances, before a sound from the second floor paused their conversation.

  Irina coughed delicately, then called out, “Are you two done?”

  Jasper and Eli exchanged a look. “Yes,” Eli replied.

  Irina’s footsteps were soft, almost inaudible as she came down the stairs on bare feet. The hanging fabric obscured her until she was halfway down. She took another step and cleared the fabric, appearing like Venus before them.

  Irina wore sky blue, the silky fabric held up by a gold band of embroidered ribbon fastened just above her breasts. From there it fell to the top of her thighs, where a short, beaded fringe pulled down on the fabric, the weight at the hem molding the garment to her breasts, revealing the stiff peaks of her nipples. Swags of the same beaded fringe as on the hem dropped from the band at the top, across each of her arms. From the breasts up and the thighs down, she was delightfully naked. Her hair was pulled into a loose braid, the color darker than normal—she must have showered.

  She stood before them, chin raised in a challenge, and yet her eyes were vulnerable. Light that touched her was filtered through a gold drape, painting her with the glow of the golden hour.

  “She’s like a Maurice Shapiro,” Jasper said.

  “Or George Inness,” Eli whispered.

  There was another beat of silence, yet Irina didn’t cower or flee. She was the brave one among their trinity, of that there could be no doubt.

  Jasper took Eli’s hand, led him across the room to the stairs.

  Irina’s eyes widened as they approached. Eli tried to imagine what she must be feeling—she was as good as naked, offering herself to not one, but two men. Jasper stopped at the foot of the stairs, looked at Eli.

  Once more he felt the weight of their gazes.

  Eli prided himself on being mild-mannered. He was, in many ways, the archetype of the absentminded professor.

  Yet that was a ruse, a front. One he’d cultivated to minimize his physical presence, and the depth of his passion. Yet he’d revealed himself to them the other night. When the drugs had, like a drink or three, stripped away his inhibitions, he’d revealed his raw, demanding core. They hadn’t run. They hadn’t mocked. They’d reveled and enjoyed.

  “Upstairs,” Eli said. It was a comma
nd.

  Irina and Jasper started up and Eli followed them, shedding both pretense and restraint with each step.

  Chapter Eleven

  Irina shivered, but not from cold, though the air was chilly enough and this crazy piece of lingerie she’d found in the bedroom closet was hardly keeping her warm.

  She’d showered—and shaved and moisturized—and it wasn’t until she found herself digging through her makeup bag to pull out neutral-tone eye shadow and pale-pink lip gloss—the kind of cosmetics you wore when you wanted to look like you weren’t wearing any—that she acknowledged what she intended to do.

  Now that she’d done it, now that she’d made herself the impetus for intimacy, she was doubting the bold move.

  Hands settled on her bare shoulder blades, warm on her chilled skin, and Irina gasped. He was at her back, and she didn’t know which “he” it was. There was something erotic and terrifying about that.

  Hands slid over her shoulders and down her chest. Now she could see those hands, and knew who was touching her. Eli’s palms skimmed over her distended nipples and Irina moaned.

  “Watch him,” Eli whispered into her ear.

  Irina obediently looked at Jasper, who was examining Irina and Eli with a hooded gaze.

  “Take off your clothes, Jasper,” Eli said.

  Jasper wasted no time, pulling the snug exercise shirt up and off. He toed off his shoes, lifted each foot in turn to strip off his socks, then shucked his shorts. He was naked underneath.

  Eli thumbed her nipples as she looked at Jasper’s naked and erect body. It was almost as if he was conditioning her to be aroused at the sight of their husband.

  Jasper’s cock was hard, the tip glistening. Once more Irina was struck by the scars that marked his chest and arm, yet now wasn’t the time to ask about them.

  Eli’s thumbnails scraped against the fabric directly over the tips of her nipples. Irina arched her back and let out a sob. Her sex was pulsing with need.