Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Franco: Wait, can we go back to your brother and your wife for a second?
Colum: Please stop referring to Nikolett like that
Franco: AM I WRONG?
Colum: …
Colum: What about them?
Franco: Have they fucked? And if not, would you be willing to tell me when they do? Devon wants to start a betting pool.
S he shouldn’t be enjoying herself.
Nikolett laughed at something her new companion said and picked up her Vietnamese coffee, except the coffee itself was long gone.
Across from her, Gus’s attention switched from her face to her empty cup as she set it down. “Want another coffee?” he asked. “My treat.”
“No, thank you.” Ordering another coffee would mean forcing her head of security to order multiple coffees, then take a sip of each one to test for poison. She’d been selfish enough already, insisting on leaving her fortified house—which had started to feel like a prison—to come have a cup of coffee.
It was more than her house that started to feel like a prison. It was her entire life.
She wouldn’t have put her security team through the trouble of arranging this little outing if she hadn’t been teetering on the edge of losing it. Not long ago, she’d found herself sitting on the floor of her bedroom, security system lockdown mode activated, which turned her room into an impenetrable steel box, and for a minute, she’d contemplated just giving up.
Stop fighting. Stop trying.
Maybe if she did, her broken heart wouldn’t hurt so much.
Nikolett was jerked out of her introspection when her stomach rumbled, loud enough she knew Gus heard it.
He frowned in concern. “Are you sure I can’t buy you lunch?”
“You’re very generous, but no.”
Gus’s frown deepened and he leaned forward, forearms braced on the edges of the small table. The place was packed—it was lunchtime in downtown Budapest, and this Vietnamese coffeehouse had not just excellent coffee but great food. It was more packed than it might otherwise have been, because half the people inside the coffee shop were her security team. The mix of harcosok—her territory’s knights, who maintained law and order among the society—and security officers, her black-ops fixers.
None of them were thrilled from a security standpoint that she was out in public, but she’d seen a few relieved glances they shared among themselves. The past year had been hectic, but the past six months had been rough as they battled against the increased frequency of assassination attempts that had left her broken and bloody. In the last week or two, everything seemed to have escalated. The latest crisis was the bear trap that resulted in the broken leg she currently had stretched out under the table.
It was starting to throb, which meant they had to leave soon.
But she didn’t want to go.
“Tell me more about being a…what did you say?” She smiled at her new friend Gus, who seemed to loom over the small table, given his size.
“I’m a UX engineer specialist.” He adjusted his glasses, somehow making them more crooked, and it was adorable.
This great mountain of a man was awkward and sweet. Not smiling one second, brooding the next, and tossing her up against the wall a second after that.
No. No, she wasn’t going there.
“And that is?”
“I’m a software engineer, but I mostly work on the user experience. That’s what UX means. It makes sense in English.” He switched to that language. “U for user, and X for experience. Even though it starts with an E.”
“You help people learn how to use the software your company makes.”
Gus reeled back in mock horror, his eyes so wide and horrified, Nikolett laughed. He relaxed and smiled, and the way the corners of his blue eyes crinkled reminded her, painfully, of Eric.
Through force of will, she kept a smile on her face.
“I actually design the user experience. Which means listening to people complain about what the current user experience looks like, and…” Gus trailed off, shaking his head. “And my job is very boring, except that I travel a lot because I speak a good few languages.”
“So you can listen to people complain in different languages?”
“Exactly.”
“Your accent… You’re Scottish?”
“Aye, I am,” he said, his accent purposefully thicker as he once more spoke English. “And you’re a bonnie lass.”
Nikolett laughed, but then her stomach grumbled again.
“Enough of this, if you won’t let me buy you something…” Gus looked at his lunch plate. There was half a cookie left.
Using a napkin, he carefully broke off the edge with bite marks, handing her the untouched part.
“Will you at least eat a cookie for me, lass?” The tender way his eyes and voice softened made something in her stomach tighten. “With a broken leg, you need to eat.”
Gus knew about her leg because he’d accidentally bumped it when joining her at the small table, which had been the only open seat in the coffeehouse.
Nikolett reached for the cookie on reflex, even as she prepared to say no thank you.
Before she could, Gus set the cookie down, his shoulders straightening, his gaze becoming hard and dangerous as he looked at something over her shoulder.
“There’s a man coming this way,” Gus said in a low voice. “I’ve been watching him stare at you, and I don’t like the look of him.”
Sensing the situation was about to get out of hand, Nikolett turned just enough to look over her shoulder and confirm it was, as expected, Grigoris.
Across from her, Gus started to rise, but Nikolett reached out, putting her hand on his. The skin-to-skin contact felt…good. Not electric and all-consuming the way it was when she touched Eric, but good.
“Gus, wait.” Nikolett looked over her shoulder, tipping her head toward Grigoris in an indication to join them.
Grigoris slowed his approach to something more casual, stopping by Nikolett’s shoulder.
“This is the head of my security team,” Nikolett said quietly. “He was probably coming over to tell me not to eat a cookie handed to me by a stranger.”
She felt Grigoris stiffen in surprise at how truthful she was being. Nikolett was surprised too. Maybe she shouldn’t have been—she’d been teetering on the edge of something since the Trinity Council meeting in Dublin.
Since Eric forced her to marry.
Spouses she couldn’t bear to bring herself to even email, let alone meet with. She wasn’t even sure Sarah Ritter—the German knight who was Nikolett’s wife—knew about the marriage. The admiral of Germany hadn’t been at the meeting.
Colum knew, but he hadn’t reached out to her either.
“Security?” Gus’s eyes widened, his attention sliding back to her. He leaned forward. “Are you a princess?”
Nikolett’s laugh was delayed by a half second of surprise. She shook her head, still chuckling. “No, not secret royalty, I’m afraid. I was a politician. Now, I’m a…political activist. There are people who object to who I am and what I do.” Everything she’d just said was true or close enough.
Gus nodded, before going still. With a quick movement that made Grigoris twitch, he bent, looking under the table at her broken leg. He straightened slowly.
“Is that what happened to your leg? Someone attacked you?” Gus looked at the cookie. “And you’re worried someone would poison you?”
The shock and horror in his voice oddly made Nikolett feel better. Sometimes, she forgot that the amount of stress and fear she dealt with on a daily basis wasn’t normal. Wasn’t how people were meant to live. It was nice to see that reflected back to her in Gus’s words and voice.
“Something like that,” Nikolett said, because despite her odd mood and exhaustion, she wasn’t going to tell a stranger that a year ago, there’d been a poisonous snake in her house, and the assassination attempts had gotten both more frequent and odder.
“I ate half the cookie. Doesn’t that mean it’s not poisoned, and you can have some?” Gus sounded almost desperate. “Your stomach won’t stop growling.”
Nikolett dipped her chin to look at her empty cup, really hoping she wasn’t blushing.
“Ah, lass, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“Nikolett?” Grigoris asked.
“I’m fine,” she said softly. “I’ll eat at home.”
Grigoris patted her shoulder and started to turn away, but his wife appeared beside him, passing Nikolett a plate with half a sandwich on it.
“Eat this. It’s mine and I’m not dead,” Nyx said in Hungarian. “And then fuck the pretty Scottish man.”
Grigoris wrapped an arm around his wife, nudging her back. “Eat the sandwich,” he said in the same language. “And we have to vet him before you’re alone in a room with him.”
Nikolett looked up in surprise. Not at Nyx—her comments were expected, only because she always expected the unexpected from Nyx.
But Grigoris… The implication that he would facilitate her having an extramarital affair with the cute Scottish mountain sitting across from her surprised her. Not that she needed his permission, but from a security standpoint it would be a pain, and Grigoris knew she was married.
Knew Eric had broken her heart.
Actually, now that she thought about it like that, it made perfect sense that her friends would want her to, maybe, find a moment of happiness somewhere.
Not that she would. This was just a chance encounter in a coffee shop.
Her stomach rumbled again, and with a rueful smile at Gus, she picked up Nyx’s half sandwich as she and Grigoris returned to their table.
It was clear Gus was dying to ask questions, but instead, he told her stories about the people he’d met traveling for his work, some funny enough to make her laugh out loud in between bites. The conversation was easy, and he carried it with no problem while she ate.
The longer they talked, the more her shoulders relaxed, and the harder it was to ignore the way he looked at her with appreciation, or the way it made her feel when he called her “lass” in that deep, rumbling voice.
One thing she couldn’t ignore was the persistent throbbing in her leg. She needed to lie down and elevate it, but that meant leaving.
She shifted, sucking in a breath when that caused a short burst of pain.
“Nikolett?” Gus looked her over, then pushed back his chair before dropping to his knees to look under the table. “Your leg hurting you?”
Two guards were there a moment later.
“Sir, please move back,” one said, not unkindly.
“Yes. I need to go,” Nikolett said slowly. “I’ve been sitting too long.”
She was surprised Grigoris wasn’t the one standing beside her, until she saw him standing near the door on the phone.
Gus straightened from under the table, looking at her softly. “Maybe…maybe we could share a table here again? Next time I’m in Budapest?”
“Maybe,” Nikolett agreed, enjoying the soft fluttery feeling Gus’s gentle flirting caused.
Even if it was hopeless.
Gus flipped over a napkin, scrawling a +44 number and email on the back and handing it to her. Nikolett took it, sliding it into her jacket pocket.
The way Gus grinned at her made her think she might be blushing. Blushing because a cute guy gave her his number. Time to go, before she did anything else embarrassing.
Nikolett cupped her thigh, trying to bend her knee so she could turn to the side and stand. She whimpered, closing her eyes as shards of glass worked their way into her bones.
“Nikolett, lass, did you hurt yourself?” Gus’s voice was tinged with alarm.
Flirting with Gus was hopeless. Her whole life was hopeless. Just a series of disasters and pain.
Metal scraped and she opened her eyes. Gus had picked up the heavy table with its iron base and easily moved it out of the way. Her guards watched him closely, one with a hand tucked firmly into his jacket pocket, no doubt with a small gun trained on Gus.
Nikolett shifted again, planning to stand straight up now that the table wasn’t in the way. The throbbing in her leg was impossible to ignore. She had to tip her face up, staring at nothing, as she breathed through it.
There was an expression that almost looked like regret on Gus’s face, before it smoothed into concern.
He held out his hands. “Let me help you, lass.”
Nikolett put her hands in his and let him pull her to her feet.
Her guards shifted nervously but didn’t interfere, given there was no visible threat.
Nikolett gripped Gus’s hands tight once she was up, finding her balance as one of her guards grabbed her crutches.
Gus leaned in, and she looked up. The expression on his face made her breath catch with the surety he was about to say something…
Something important.
But before he could, a grim-faced Grigoris approached. With a defeated sigh, Nikolett dropped Gus’s hands, taking her crutches and tucking them under her arms.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Grigoris said formally. “But we need to go.”
Nikolett raised her brows, but Grigoris didn’t answer until Gus took a step back, turning away to grab his laptop off the table, stuffing it into a shoulder satchel.
“What’s wrong?” Nikolett asked softly.
Grigoris’s expression clearly said mindig valami —something was about to go wrong, again—but he was still cognizant of them being out in public because his words were formal and calm. “Mr. Ericsson is on his way to your office.”
Xavier stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his hips.
Colum took a moment to admire the man’s physique. Okay, he took more than a moment. Xavier, aware he was being ogled, obliged him by giving him a few playful flexes. Colum wanted to laugh at his lover’s silly antics, but damn…Xavier was fecking gorgeous.
He glanced to his side when he felt Annie’s fingers brush his lower lip.
“You’ve got a bit of drool there,” she teased.
Colum laughed. “Like you aren’t drooling as well.”
Annie shrugged, unapologetically. “Our boyfriend is hot.”
“Boyfriend,” Colum whispered, trying the word on for size.
From the corner of his eye, Colum saw Xavier leaning against the doorframe of the bathroom, his arms crossed, a sexy smirk on his lips. “I like the sound of that, though I think I prefer fiancé or husband even better.”
After Xavier’s call to his mother, the three of them had fallen into each other’s arms, kissing and talking…and hoping. Xavier had truly come through, finding the perfect solution to at least one of their problems.
While Colum had been completely sincere when he’d said he would give up his job as the archivist if it meant he could be with them, the actual idea of doing so would feel like the equivalent of losing a limb.
Xavier had understood that and found a better way. At least, Colum hoped it was better.
Now, he was worried what Xavier would have to sacrifice to become admiral.
But that was a worry for later, because Xavier was naked under that towel…
Christ. The sex between the three of them was mind-blowing, life-altering, eye-opening. For him, it had been a goddamn revelation. Touching them, kissing them, fucking them… Colum closed his eyes, stopping that chain of thought. They’d only just managed to get out of bed, the three of them fucking and laughing while celebrating Xavier’s promotion.
They were well-matched in and out of the bedroom but these past not-quite two weeks weren’t reality. They were a brief respite from their real lives. What would happen, what would they do, if in the end they couldn’t be together?
Colum shoved those thoughts away.
“I love you,” Colum breathed, the words coming out too shaky.
Annie smiled and because she was closest, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her cheek pressed tight to his chest. “I love you too.”
Xavier crossed the room, enveloping them, Annie cuddled between them as they all embraced. When they parted, Xavier studied Colum’s face. “Don’t think I don’t love hearing those words, but what’s going on inside that clever mind of yours? Something’s bothering you.”
Colum ran his hand through his hair, the gesture cueing Annie into his heavy thoughts.
She cupped his cheek. “What is it, Irish?”
God, but he loved when she called him that.
“What if it doesn’t work?” he whispered. “What if Eric won’t annul my marriage? What if he says we can’t wait years for Xavier to become admiral, and I have to be married to someone in leadership right now? What if the Grand Master won’t agree to let you marry us?”
Colum wasn’t really worried about that last one, sure Franco could convince his wife, but there might be factors at play he didn’t know about that would force the issue. Or maybe Hande and the other admirals would object to the archivist being married to an American, even if she switched to being a member of the Masters’ Admiralty, because, again, it felt like the Americans had more access to the new joint archive than the Masters’ Admiralty.
“Nothing is settled. While I’m not a superstitious man, I still wouldn’t disturb a fairy circle or forget to put a cross in the soda bread. It’s hard for me to talk about this as if it’s real, when nothing’s been truly settled yet.”
“Then let’s settle it,” Xavier said confidently. “Or at least some of it.”
“How?”
Annie gestured to Colum’s phone on the nightstand. “Xavier changed the game. Call Eric. Ask for an annulment.”
Colum nodded, his heart suddenly racing, though he couldn’t tell if that was based on nerves or excitement. Probably both. “Alright. I will.”
Xavier and Annie shared a grin, both so sure everything was going to break their way. He loved their optimism, their ability to not only reach for happiness but grab it with both hands and wrestle it into submission. True happiness had always felt so unattainable to him, but not now, not with them.
Colum reached for his phone and hit the video call. He’d learned a long time ago he needed every advantage in conversations, so he preferred not only to hear someone’s voice but to be able to read their expressions as well.
“Colum,” Eric answered after two rings. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Oh, aye, to be sure.” Colum frowned. “Are you on a plane?”
“I’m on my way to Hungary to see Nikolett.”
Colum didn’t need to see Eric’s thunderous expression to know this wasn’t going to be a pleasant visit, the growling tone of his voice was more than enough.
“Oh, that’s grand.” It was the wrong thing to say, but Colum had never been much for offering relationship advice, and while he had a wee bit of experience in that realm, what Eric and Nikolett shared was so tumultuous his brother would be better off seeking guidance from a boxing instructor.
“Listen, Colum—” Eric said.
“I have something to tell you,” Colum interjected, anxious to share his news.
Eric’s gaze sharpened. “About the investigation?”
“Er…no. Nothing has changed there.”
“Okay, then let’s talk later.” Eric rubbed his face with his hand. “Right now?—”
Once again, Colum spoke over him. “You can annul my marriage to Nikolett and Sarah.”
The silence following the statement was loud.
“I found another person. One that I can marry. A finance minister, but he’ll be the admiral one day. From France.” The words were coming out too choppy, mainly because Eric’s expression had gone blank. It wasn’t the reaction Colum had expected. “I know a finance minister isn’t really leadership, but in France, you have to be a finance minister before becoming vice admiral, then admiral. In a few years, he will be, and I, we , can wait until then. I think. I mean, we could wait to start the Trinity Archive.” Colum paused to catch his breath. “You have to undo my marriage, not just to Nikolett.”
The moment he spoke the admiral of Hungary’s name, Colum knew he’d made a mistake.
Eric shook his head. “No. No ,” he said with more force.
Colum’s stomach sank. “Eric, please. I don’t under?—”
“I can’t talk about this right now. I have to go.”
Before Colum could demand an answer, the call disconnected.
Annie and Xavier had been sitting next to each other on the bed, directly in front of him. While they hadn’t seen Eric, they’d heard the conversation, and the matching looks of shock and devastation on their faces nearly took Colum down.
His knees went weak, and it felt for all the world like he’d just been punched in the stomach. Hard.
This…this was why he lived his life firmly in the realm of the realist. Josephine probably would have accused him of actually straddling the line between realism and pessimism, but the joke would have been on her.
Because he’d been right to worry, to doubt. He swallowed heavily, his emotions trapped on a spinning merry-go-round, anger whirling around, replaced by devastation, whirling around, replaced by hopelessness, whirling around and around and around.
“Feck,” he breathed, dizzy from the deep-seated anguish settling in.
“He said no,” Xavier said in disbelief, as if speaking those words would make them make sense.
They didn’t.
“No,” Annie said, shaking her head violently, firmly locked in the grips of denial. “ No . He can’t say no. He can’t do that. He can’t,” she insisted.
Colum’s heart shattered. Because the truth was…
“He can. And he did.”