Chapter 10 #2
She switched from English to French to order wine and appetizers.
They discussed general society business in vague terms through the first course. When the second arrived, the conversation lulled, approaching the point of awkward silence.
“Darling,” Victoire said after a moment, “what are we going to do about your marriage?”
Nikolett’s head snapped up, shocked both by the nickname and the question.
The tone wasn’t exactly motherly. It was theoretically possible for Victoire to be her mother, given that Victoire’s son Xavier wasn’t much younger than Nikolett. Still, this felt more like an inquiry from an elegant, favorite aunt.
“My marriage.” Nikolett put down her fork.
“I suggest you marry soon so Eric doesn’t get ideas.”
Nikolett hid a wince. “May I ask, do you… I mean, are you aware of…”
She sounded like an inane moron, and had no idea how to ask the question she needed to.
“You’re wondering what I know, and what I think, about your relationship with Eric.”
Nikolett cut a piece of delicate fish, shoved it in her mouth to keep herself from talking, and nodded.
“I’m a curious person, and I don’t know as much as I wish I did. But it is obvious that you have a personal relationship with him.”
Nikolett picked up her wineglass and finished it in one hard swallow.
“I don’t know what that personal relationship is. Sexual? Romantic? He treats you differently than he treats me or any other admirals. And you confront and challenge him in a way I fear I would not dare.”
“It’s inappropriate,” Nikolett acknowledged.
Victoire shrugged. “What is appropriate? It has not negatively impacted the society. You were the only one who felt empowered to act when he disappeared.”
“The Spartan Guard—”
“The Spartan Guard hunted him because their job was to protect him, which they couldn’t do if they didn’t know where he was. You hunted him because he was shirking his duty, and you expected better of him.”
It was more than a little disconcerting how accurate Victoire’s assessment was, given Nikolett thought not many people knew about what had happened.
While she parsed her thoughts, Victoire signaled the sommelier for more wine.
“What I do not know is what exactly you and Eric mean to one another.” Victoire sat back, glass hovering near her lips. “Did you have an affair before you were admiral? Is that why he appointed you?”
Nikolett jolted in her seat. “What? No! Is that what everyone thinks?” Outrage and embarrassment made her face hot. “He didn’t appoint me because we had an affair.”
“Why are you upset? Who better to know what you are capable of than a lover?”
“I just…I don’t want people thinking that I’m not qualified.” Nikolett took a breath to calm down. “I’m more than qualified. Before I became admiral, I was a—”
“You are, you are.” Victoire waved a hand negligently through the air. “You’ve shown that by how well Hungary recovered from decades of neglect and corruption.”
“Thank you.”
“And since it distresses you, I assure you it was only my own theory that perhaps you and Eric knew one another before you became admiral.” Victoire arched a brow. “I was only invited to join because my husband Matthias and I fell in love. He was a legacy and suggested me to the vice admiral.”
That shocked Nikolett. “But he knew he couldn’t marry you. Even if you did become a member, there was no guarantee you’d be placed in a trinity.”
“No, there wasn’t. But he hoped, and because he knew me, loved me, he knew I was exactly the person France needed.” Victoire raised one hand, palm up, fingers spread to say “and now I’m the admiral.”
“He knew you’d make a good admiral?”
“No, he knew he loved me.”
“You can’t recruit someone because you love them or want to marry them.
” She hid the wince of guilt that she’d been thinking about doing exactly that with Gus.
She’d poured over the file Zoran sent, trying to justify bringing him on as a member.
She had to put the file away after only an hour, due to other priorities.
Nothing about him either disqualified him as a membership candidate, or was so outstanding that he was undeniably an asset they needed.
Victoire bringing it up felt oddly like fate.
The other admiral laughed softly. “Darling, why not?”
Nikolett opened and closed her mouth. “That’s just… The society is designed to support and protect the people the world needs for peace and advancement.”
“Yes. And if that’s true, shouldn’t it mean that anyone our members fall in love with is likely also the kind of person we want?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Ah, but I said in love. Not in lust.”
“What makes it okay for one member to not only pick their own trinity but recruit people specifically to marry them?” She needed Victoire to be wrong, because if she was right, there was no reason for her not to recruit Gus and then marry him herself.
“What makes a cold, clinical analysis of a person’s academic or job accomplishments a more valid measure for recruiting than the opinion of an existing member?”
“There is a phrase in Hungarian. A szerelem a bolcset is vakká teszi. It means love makes even the wise blind.”
“A bit cynical, but not wrong.” Victoire cocked her head. “Are you in love with the fleet admiral?”
“No.” The word hurt to say, like pulling off a bandage too soon and ripping open part of the wound under neither.
Liar.
No, it was the truth.
“Not anymore,” she conceded. “I was. But not because I knew him before I was admiral.”
“And have you slept with him?”
That was too personal. Nikolett raised a brow and silently took a sip of wine, refusing to answer.
“It would be a shame to love him and not enjoy his touch before you marry someone else.”
“We’re back to my marriage?”
“We are. You need a trinity, darling, and not just because you must marry at some point.”
“I’m actively assessing possible spouses.”
“How very clinical.”
Nikolett was almost tempted to pull up the picture she’d taken of the board with Elena’s sparkly paper craft efforts on display. The glitter paper surely meant it wasn’t clinical.
“It can be hard for an admiral to marry. What you have to do, what Hande just did—
picking your own trinity while being admiral—is difficult.”
“It is.”
“You may want to look outside your territory. There are less issues with the power dynamic there. Yes, your spouse will become a member of your territory when you marry, but they will view you as their spouse first, admiral second.”
“I don’t know how other admirals would feel if I started poaching their members.”
“You would have to ask of course. Or take suggestions?”
Nikolett laughed softly. “I don’t know how I would feel marrying someone another admiral suggested, since I could never truly know the admiral’s motives. Would I have a spy in my bed? A problem member they wanted to get rid of?”
Victoire smiled in approval of Nikolett’s suspicious, cynical mind.
“Then you choose members strong enough to see you as their wife first, admiral second. Or you find someone you can love, and bring them in to marry them.”
They lingered in the restaurant for hours, eating and drinking too much. Nikolett told Victoire about Idir’s lobster comment, which had them laughing all the way through dessert.
They’d just ordered after-dinner drinks, when several other diners stood up all at once, gazes sweeping the room.
Nikolett’s pulse jumped and she looked at Victoire.
“My people,” the admiral confirmed, going stiff in her seat.
“Grigoris?” Nikolett whispered.
His voice came through her earpiece. “The chevalier are going to escort you to a secure location. Go with them.”
A second later, two men who’d been dining together were at Nikolett’s elbow, pulling her up out of the chair.
“My apologies, Admiral.” One of them swung her up into their arms. “I’m Remi.”
Across from her, Victoire was standing too, a tall woman draping a heavy-looking blanket over her head and back as they hustled her through the restaurant.
“What’s happening?” Nikolett demanded as the man carrying her strode between the tables at a fast walk. They went the opposite direction from Victoire and her guards.
“Someone tapped into the security camera feed, kicking us out, and now there’s someone headed our way.” Grigoris’ voice was low and urgent through her earpiece.
At the same time Remi said, “Two DS7 Vauban are headed toward us.”
Zoran’s voice came through her earpiece. “DS7 Vaubans are specialty armored SUVs.”
Nikolett swallowed hard. Armored cars headed toward them were a bad sign. Unless an actor or musician was making a surprise visit, no normal person would have that kind of car and arrive unexpectedly. And a celebrity probably wouldn’t have hacked the security feed.
The second knight, walking just in front of them, held up a hand, fist closed, when they reached a door with a discreet plaque reading “Accès privé.”
He eased open the door, one hand tucked into his jacket, no doubt on a weapon.
Nikolett looked over Remi’s shoulder, back the way they came. From this angle, she could see through the lobby, and through the open doors of the restaurant which was in chaos, most diners out of their chairs and scrambling to leave. They’d started a panic.
She could only see a sliver of the large window, but it was enough for her to watch as a black SUV in the style ubiquitous to politicians, dignitaries, and organized crime leadership pulled up outside, a second one right behind it.
The lone couple left in the restaurant looked at the all-black vehicles and jumped up, quickly grabbing their things.
Nikolett hoped they got out before anything bad happened. She hoped they paid their bill, too.
“We’re going to intercept,” Grigoris said in her ear. “Stay with the knights.”
Nikolett swallowed hard, desperately wishing it was one of her own people carrying her through nondescript, narrow white hallways.
A moment later, they pushed through an exit door into a garden courtyard sheltered on two sides by the walls of the hotel, a third the wall of the building next door.
The fourth was a brick and wrought iron fence, tall enough to hide the street on the other side, the vines laced through the iron giving complete privacy.
The brick patio was dotted with tables and chairs, a few ashtrays resting on each. The space had a casual, almost-forgotten feel. Most likely a staff break area, though the lush walls of greenery gave it an intimate, private feeling.
“We’re outside,” Nikolett said, wanting Grigoris to know where she was. She wanted to trust the French knights, but she simply couldn’t bring herself to put her full faith in them.
“That’s the plan. Best option for either retreat into the building or going to a safehouse.” Grigoris’ breathing was heavy, like he was running. “Don’t worry, Iacob is coming to intercept them. We won’t leave you, Nikolett.”
Her eyes welled at her friend’s words.
“If it’s bad, we will take you to our admiral’s house,” Remi murmured as the Knight #2 did a sweep.
“Can you put me down?”
Reluctantly, he lowered her to her feet but hovered beside her, ready to scoop her up. The second knight finished the perimeter check of the small garden, one hand to his ear.
There was a burst of noise in her earpiece—raised voices and what sounded like something heavy hitting metal.
“Grigoris!” Nikolett’s heart fell into her shoes. “Grigoris, you can’t die.”
Both knights had stiffened also. Knight #2 jumped onto the low brick wall that made up the lower half of the fence, peering over the greenery. He looked right, then left. He froze, gaze fixed on something.
“It’s her man,” he said in French, Nikolett’s own command of the language good enough for her to understand that much. “And…oh shit. Right behind him.”
“And who?” Nikolett demanded in the same language. “Who’s behind him?”
There was a gate in the fence, the lack of brick the only indication the gate was there, since it too was laced through with vines like the rest of the fence.
The knight on the wall jumped down, ran to the gate, flipped the latch, and then…stopped. He didn’t lock or barricade it. He hesitated.
Both French knights were distressingly immobile. Nikolett started backing toward the door into the hotel, limping with every other step.
“Let Iacob in,” Nikolett demanded. “Then shut the gate behind him.”
Remi slowly turned to her, one hand on his ear. “We’re waiting on orders from our admiral.”
Nikolett took another step away from him. He was waiting for Victoire to okay him stopping whomever was chasing Iacob?
Was Victoire the Spaniard? Was this all an elaborate ruse?
The gate banged open and Iacob rushed in.
Behind him, a voice ordered, “Don’t close that.”
A too-familiar voice.
Nikolett’s whole body went icy cold with rage, then flushed hot with pleasure and longing. “Close it!”
Iacob didn’t hesitate. He spun, slammed the gate close, and pressed his shoulder against it, feet braced.
That didn’t noticeably slow Eric down.
Eric threw the gate open, the latch screaming in protest before breaking. Iacob went flying.
Eric stood in the opening, his massive body backlit by the streetlights while the moonlight added silver to his hair.
For one delicious moment, she was afraid.
Remi took another step away from her. Much to her disappointment, she didn’t know the French word for coward, so she settled for a scathing glance.
Then Eric took a hesitant half step toward her.
Iacob had pushed to his feet and was headed for her, clearly intending to put himself between her and the threat. She held up a hand in a stop gesture, and he detoured, circling to stand behind rather than in front of her. Nikolett heard him murmuring a status update to Grigoris.
Eric took another half step but faltered. His body language shifted from unstoppable force to…unsure?
He ran a hand through his hair before shoving his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunched.
“Er… Hi.”
Hi?
Nikolett narrowed her eyes.