by Mari Carr
There were so many facets to the trinities that Langston failed to see, not through any fault of his own, but simply because of a lack of experience. Rich and Mina had both been raised by three parents. They’d had role models, adults to show them the beauty, the magic, of a ménage marriage.
Langston was flying blind.
The more Rich considered that, the more he felt his initial anger toward the other man fading, to be replaced by rueful sympathy. While Langston had made the worst first impression in the history of meeting someone new, he’d proved every belief Rich had formed about him wrong since then.
What Langston needed was a tutor. Both in how to navigate inside the Trinity Masters, and how to be in a trinity.
Rich felt Mina’s leg press against his own, her hand still clasped to his.
Perhaps Langston needed two tutors.
“Here we are,” Milo said, turning down a long driveway that led to one of the most impressive villas Rich had ever seen.
Rich had accepted that after a long and blessed life of privilege and wealth, he was hard to impress, but damn if this sight didn’t affect him.
Mina didn’t bother to hold back her amazement. “Oh my God. It’s beautiful.”
Rich saw Milo’s smile of appreciation reflected in the rearview mirror. “This villa has been in my family for many years. Fiumicino offers so much, positioned close to the city of Rome as well as the sea. You can play tourist at the shops or enjoy the sandy white beaches. Plus, it’s home to one of the largest airports in the world, so if you wish to hop aboard a plane, you can travel anywhere your heart desires, though why would you leave?”
“It’s nice of you to let us stay here, Milo,” Langston said, his tone revealing his own awe.
Rich let his gaze travel over the pristine white villa surrounded by lush green, centuries-old maritime pines. His home in Dallas was much larger, but it didn’t have a sense of place the way this villa did. Looking at the building, the grounds, he could tell that this home had been here a long time, that it was as much a part of the landscape as the trees themselves.
Milo waved away Langston’s words. “Consider this our apology for interrupting your honeymoon, recompense for your help today. Though maybe we improved the honeymoon, yes? Italy is the most romantic country in the world.”
Langston snorted and Milo laughed as he pulled the car to a stop at the front door.
The four of them got out of the vehicle, Milo crossing to the back to open the trunk and retrieve their luggage. “You haven’t seen the most beautiful part. The grounds at the back are magnifico. A long terrace runs along the rear of the house. Beyond that is a park.” Milo paused, setting a suitcase down. “No, in America, I think it is called a backyard. There’s a swimming pool and hot tub. It is completely secluded. Perfect for lovers.” He winked at Mina, who smiled politely in reply, but she shifted her weight from foot to foot.
Langston had turned to look at the villa, his arms crossed, shoulders slightly hunched. Defensive, maybe even protective body language.
Mina’s eyes met Rich’s for just a moment, and she shook her head sadly. He knew what she was thinking—this wasn’t their honeymoon, and this romance, the beauty of this place, only made that fact more painful.
But he had a plan.
A plan that’s an excuse to have sex.
Okay, so his dick had created the plan, but his head was mostly in agreement.
Now he just had to get the other two on board.
They walked to the front entrance and the door opened, an older woman stepping out to greet them. Her arms were stretched out as she offered Mina a friendly hug, placing a kiss on each of her cheeks. “Ah, la bellissima sposa. We are so pleased to have you and your bello husbands here.”
“This is our housekeeper, Cicely,” Milo said in introduction. “She lives here and will take care of you, preparing your meals, making sure you have everything you need to ensure your stay is comfortable.”
“Oh,” Mina said. “That’s too much. We can’t ask you to do all of that for us.”
Cicely’s thick accent was hard to understand as she slipped between English and Italian.
“No, no, no,” the housekeeper insisted. “You are very welcome. Not a…” She waved her hand around, clearly searching for the word she wanted in English. She looked at Milo, speaking rapidly.
Milo smiled. “She says it is no imposition. She is happy to have you here.”
“She knows about…?” Rich asked.
“She knows about our lifestyle. I told her you are in a similar relationship.”
“Due mariti sarebbero troppo lavoro per me.” Cicely clicked her tongue and then started guiding Mina into the house.
Once they were inside, Milo started for the driver’s door. “I am needed elsewhere. We have much to do, now that…” Milo didn’t finish his thought. He didn’t have to. “Please tell Mina it was my pleasure to meet her.”
Rich shook hands with Milo before the man and Langston exchanged a hug and several low-voiced words. If Langston was planning to exit the Trinity Masters by jumping to the Masters’ Admiralty, he’d need the support of people like Milo.
Gravel spit up from under the tires as Milo peeled away, driving far faster now that he was alone in the car than he had on the way here.
Rich and Langston grabbed the bags and turned, following Cicely and Mina into the villa.
The foyer was small and elegant. The walls were paneled and painted creamy white. The floor was black and white, or rather, a pale, pale gray and white, the check pattern created not by ceramic tiles but by marble slabs, cut and laid with precision and polished to a high gloss.
The housekeeper was pointing at a line drawing hanging on the wall, a simple sketch of a small seaside town. Mina was by her side, listening attentively to the Italian woman.
When they entered, Cicely turned.
“I will take you to your room, so to refresh yourselves. Cena…ah…dinner will be prepared…ah…presto. I thought you would enjoy…to eat outside on the terrace. It is bella notte.” The woman led them upstairs as Rich and Langston exchanged glances.
From what Milo had said, and not said, Cicely knew about threesome marriages, but not about the secret society. Milo wasn’t married, so he must have been a legacy, his parents living openly as a trinity within their own homes. He wondered what measures were in place to prevent her from discussing her employers’ relationship. Probably she was very well paid for her discretion.
That was how Rich intended to ensure the true nature of his marriage remained a secret from inquisitive minds. He employed a fairly large staff in his home, and their silence would be bought and held in place by a nondisclosure contract.
Cicely threw a door open, stepping inside the large, luxurious bedroom. Terrace doors were open near the larger-than-king-size bed, a light breeze billowing behind the sheer white curtains, affording them a view of the park Milo mentioned.
The backyard was truly stunning, elegantly lit and lush, with a sense of gravity that spoke of time and care. It was also very, very private. Rich walked over to the open doors, stepping out onto the terrace, allowing himself to imagine all the things he, Mina, and Langston could do together in this romantic place.
“I will call you when dinner is ready,” Cicely said, stepping out of the room, closing the door behind her.
“One room,” Mina said quietly, as Rich stepped back inside. “I’m sure there are other bedrooms, but if we don’t stay together…”
Langston looked uncomfortable. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“No,” Rich said. “We’ll sleep in the bed together. The three of us.”
“Rich—” Mina started to protest.
“We slept together on the plane, Mina,” he reminded her, though given the dark circles under her eyes, it was obvious it hadn’t been enough. Langston looked even worse for wear, the lack of sleep the previous night paired with the stress of this afternoon clearly catching up with him.
&n
bsp; “Yes, but—” she continued.
“We’ll discuss it later, Mina. I think we should unpack and get ready for dinner.”
Mina’s eyes narrowed. “We will discuss it, and we’ll discuss your high-handed tactics. I don’t take orders from you, Rich.”
He rubbed his stomach, ignoring the irritation in her tone. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”
It was deflection, pure and simple. Rich didn’t intend to revisit the subject at all. The more he thought about the three of them sleeping together, the more it felt right.
The second he’d heard Mina’s name in the altar room and watched her push back the hood of her robe, he’d wanted her. Hell, he’d wanted her before that, but they’d both been too smart, too protective of their hearts to give in to the attraction, knowing the future wasn’t theirs to choose.
No one saved themselves for marriage in the Trinity Masters. Most people made a point of not only having sex before they were placed in their trinities, but purposefully pushed to expand their own horizons. He certainly hadn’t wanted his first ménage to be on his wedding night.
Tonight, and the rest of their time in Rome, could be used as an extension of that exploration. This wasn’t married sex, this was…practice married sex. For when they were eventually all placed in their real trinities.
He glanced at Mina and briefly imagined her in bed with two other men. Jealousy washed over him, and he pushed it away, walking to the bedroom door and holding it open for them. Maybe when Langston—with his coaching—dissolved their trinity, he could ask the Grand Master to still place him and Mina together, with someone else as their third.
Mina glared at him as she walked past.
He was going to have to work on that.
Langston paused, glanced at Rich, and smiled. Once again he felt something for the other man, something beyond an altruistic-but-also-self-serving need to help him by fucking him.
Rich returned the smile and gave him a friendly shove to get him through the door. Rich had a plan.
And step one was wine.
* * *
Mina upended the bottle of wine, adding the last few drops to her empty glass. “Whoops,” she said with a giggle. “Looks like we killed another one.”
Langston chuckled. “Gotta hand it to the Italians. They make good wine.”
Dinner had been a relaxed, almost lazy affair, as Cicely served them seafood paella and warm, fresh-baked ciabatta on the terrace. At Rich’s request, she continued to bring them bottle after bottle of red wine, each decanted and left to breathe before arriving at the table. The aromas were perfect, the wine going down easy as the night deepened and the moon rose, landscape lighting and the lights from inside the house casting a gentle yellow glow over their table.
Between the three of them, they’d drunk three—or was it four?—bottles, as the night wore on. Langston’s southern accent got thicker the more he drank, and the stories he shared of his escapades with his brothers were hysterical. After the second bottle, Mina told stories about her most outlandish cases from the time when she’d been deputy district attorney in New York.
Rich had confessed to something that wasn’t exactly a secret, but certainly wasn’t public knowledge—he was a big-time tabletop gamer. Mina and Langston had dissolved into gales of laughter when he’d admitted to taking pride in his D&D dungeon master skills.
Rich couldn’t remember when he’d laughed so much or had such a good time.
There was a bright full moon and the warm breeze that blew in from the sea was pleasant, perfect.
Rich suspected he could lay down on his back in the inviting green grass and simply stare at the stars all night. As long as they were beside him.
Cicely had cleared the plates nearly an hour earlier, leaving them on their own and retiring to her bedroom.
The chatting and laughter that had transpired over dinner faded, leaving them in a silence that had at first been companionable, but was now sliding toward tense.
“It’s getting late,” Rich said. He had a sense both Langston and Mina had been avoiding going upstairs, putting off what came next. Meanwhile, Rich had been looking forward to it.
Now with full stomachs, and reason veiled by a warm haze provided by red wine, he hoped they would be more amenable to his very logical suggestion.
“It’s nice out here,” Mina said. “I could go find us another bottle.”
Langston opened his mouth, closed it, then glanced at Rich, clearly unsure.
“Bed.” Rich stood and grabbed their wineglasses. “Langston, can you get the empty bottle?”
Mina sighed, but grabbed their cloth napkins and a random spoon that was still on the table.
They carried the last traces of dinner and drinks to the kitchen, then climbed the stairs to their bedroom.
Rich was the last to enter. He shut the door, then locked it. Cicely must have come up while they were eating dinner because the terrace doors had been closed and the soft duvet on the bed had been turned down. The suitcases were gone, but one of the closet doors was slightly ajar, so she’d undoubtedly put them away.
Mina walked across the room—wobbling just a little—to the other door, opened it, and peeked inside. “Cicely must have unpacked for us. My toiletry bag is in here. I’m going to get ready for bed and then—”
“Mina, let’s talk first.”
She’d been annoyed with Rich before dinner, unhappy with what she considered his heavy-handed commands. None of that anger was present now. She walked back to the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress.
“So…” Rich said, walking toward her. Langston remained motionless, having paused in the middle of the room, equal distance from the door as the bed. He might be still, but there was no denying the curiosity…and desire…on his face. However, after the admittedly terrible first impression he’d made, the intelligent man was obviously holding his tongue, waiting to see how things would unfold.
There was something honorable about Langston’s honesty. He didn’t want to be in this marriage, not because of them, but because the marriage was born of the Grand Master’s lack of trust. Marriages were meant to enhance a person, not restrict them.
When Rich thought about it like that, it was easy for him to not take it personally. He was what some people would call a control freak. If he hadn’t been raised by a trinity, he never would have agreed to join because he wouldn’t have wanted to give up control over any of his life choices.
Rich looked at the other man. “You’ve never had a ménage.”
It was a statement, but Langston answered it as if he’d worded it as a question. “No. I haven’t. The two of you…?”
Langston let them fill in the rest of his question.
Rich nodded. “I have.”
Mina smiled. “Me too. Practice.”
“Practice.” Langston’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t have time in the last few months to practice having threesomes. Every damn minute I spend with y’all just proves to me even more that I wasn’t ready to be a member. Or get—” He stopped himself, looking guilty.
Or get married.
“An excellent segue to my proposition,” Rich declared.
“Proposition.” Mina snorted. “You always sound like a CEO when you drink.”
“You’d rather I have a twang, darlin’? I can do country gentleman or badass cowboy or…”
“Dungeon master?” Mina added, with a little smirk that said she was teasing him about his Dungeons and Dragons credentials.
“Let’s save that talk for another night,” Rich murmured. He was not talking about Dungeons and Dragons.
Mina arched a brow appreciatively.
Langston’s eyes widened, then narrowed, but not out of anger. If anything, Rich got the impression that he’d captured the interest of the bomb expert.
Mina crossed her legs, cupped her hands over her knee, and straightened her shoulders. “I would prefer you just say whatever it is you want to say.”
&nb
sp; “We should fuck.”
Langston started coughing. Mina looked back and forth between them, lips pursed, then regretfully shook her head. “A bad idea.”
“It’s a great idea. Langston, will you give us a minute?”
“I’ll just…uh.” The other man dashed into the bathroom.
Rich walked to the bed and dropped to one knee in front of Mina. “Why do you think this is a bad idea?”
“Why do you think it’s a good idea? Our trinity isn’t going to last. Langston’s feelings about it are—”
Rich raised a hand to stop her. “I agree. I’m going to coach him on how to object at the actual marriage ceremony.”
“How to invoke the bloody binding exception?”
Rich nodded.
While revoking trinities was extremely rare, a precedent had been set in the late 1800s, when a trinity had been formed between Charles VanFossen, Gertrude Millner, and Laurence Rollins. Their names were the stuff of legend amongst members of the Trinity Masters, the secret society’s own version of Romeo, Juliet,…and Mercutio.
The night before the trio’s binding ceremony, Laurence’s brother killed Charles’s uncle in a duel. When Charles learned of the duel, the honeymoon took a very bloody turn as he sought to avenge his uncle’s death. A fight ensued, knives were pulled. Gertrude made the mistake of trying to intervene and she was stabbed to death by Charles. Laurence, out of control with rage, then killed Charles before turning the knife on himself.
After the “bloody binding,” as the legacies had taken to calling it, the way the Trinity Masters formed unions changed. Before that, trinities were called to the altar and married right then and there. The Grand Master of the time instituted the “binding ceremony,” which was followed by a month-long honeymoon period where the trinities got to know each other before returning to be wed.
If a trinity truly wouldn’t work—or one member of the triad felt compelled to murder one of their new spouses—the union could be dissolved. It was the only, very small loophole, and Rich didn’t have a clue if anyone since the Bloody Binding had managed to have their trinity set aside.
