Usually, the newly-formed trinity spent the month after their binding ceremony getting to know one another and planning their lives together, before returning for the formal trinity marriage ceremony.
Oscar, Selene, and Luca knew one another, and they didn’t need time to decide what they were going to do. They’d been willing to risk everything. To spend their life on the run for a chance to be together.
That was love.
Tate looked around, reminding himself that he wasn’t just a guest, he did have a job to do.
It was a small guest list. Selene’s immediate family, plus Roman. Sebastian, as the officiant and his spouses, Grant and Elle, were in attendance. Franco was also there, sitting in the front with his spouses, Devon and Juliette. Oscar’s brother, Langston, his husband, Rich, and wife, Mina, had flown in from Texas.
The handful of other guests all clearly knew the bride and grooms, though Tate didn’t know their exact relation to the trinity. Andre had handled the threat assessment analysis, using information provided by Franco. Owen Frasier, Jennika Davis, Rhys Fletcher, and Ridley Phillios took up a row, each of them elegant and dangerous looking. Tate would have bet his left nut that at least one of them was CIA. They gave off CIA vibes.
The final guest arrived ten minutes late. And the idiot brought a plus one.
Tate knew something was up when Scarlet’s head tipped to the side, and she glanced away from the ceremony, clearly listening to something coming through the headset.
Tate pressed his own ear, and a second later, Andre spoke through the comm. “The missing triplet is here with a guest. Guest is not on the list.”
Tate looked at Scarlet, and then, as discreetly as possible, they slid to the back of the room. Black pipe and drape acted as a light and sound break, so when they slipped through the curtain and opened the door, the lights from the hall didn’t disturb the ceremony.
Andre stood squarely in front of the door, blocking the way of two men in tuxes.
“How late am I?” Walt was easy to identify. He looked exactly like Langston and Oscar.
“Who is this with you?” Scarlet said with a deceptively easy smile.
“This is...my friend.” Walt fiddled with his bowtie. He looked good in New Year’s Eve formalwear. “Can we go in?”
The man beside him was huge, blond, and grinning happily, though his eyes were cold, a little hard. He would have bet his right nut the man was dangerous. “I love weddings.”
Scarlet hesitated, but when Walt said, “Please, I don’t want to miss any more of my brother’s wedding,” she nodded and carefully opened the door.
“Ma’am…” Andre looked pained.
Scarlet spoke into her headset, instructing Rhea to adjust the table settings accordingly, while Tate and Andre exchanged a look. Then she opened the door, carefully holding the bar so it wouldn’t make noise. Tate followed Walt and the stranger into the room. He’d keep an eye on this guy.
Walt slid into a seat beside his brother, while the stranger opted to stand behind the last row of chairs. Tate stood just behind him.
When the ceremony was over, Scarlet and Rhea dramatically opened the wall, revealing the rest of the ballroom. Small tables, set for parties of three or four, ringed the dance floor. The room was lit by candlelight and pale gold up lights. Everything was deep blue, gold, silver, and white. It was elegant and festive, and all the guests oohed and aahed appreciatively as they rose and moved into the reception area. Tate turned, but the stranger had slipped out while everyone else was finding their seat. Tate checked in with Andre, and the man was in the bathroom.
There was a lull as the hotel wait staff served the mixologist-created aperitifs to the guests. Tate put his arm around Scarlet and kissed her temple. Roman wandered over, smiling at them. “I was worried I was going to have to risk your wrath by changing tables, but…” Roman gestured to a small table not far from where they stood. It was in the corner, somewhat out of the way.
“I hope you don’t mind,” Scarlet said softly. “Originally you were sitting with Theia and Rhys Fletcher but...I’m selfish. I wanted you two to myself.”
Tate craned his neck enough to see that the gold seating placard had their names on it. Himself, Roman, and Scarlet.
“I would have moved to sit with you if you hadn’t,” Roman assured her.
Roman and Tate sat—he could still see the room well enough—while Scarlet did a round to check on everything.
She came back as the first course was being brought out and took a minute to sit. Roman poured her a glass of champagne from the bottle waiting in ice on their table, and they shared a private, silent toast of congratulations.
A man cleared his throat, drawing their attention. Franco and his wife had walked up. Franco was smiling at them. As a Warrior Scholar, Tate knew Franco well enough to grin back as he stood, while Scarlet and Roman had more restrained, polite greetings, as befitting a conversation with one of the Grand Master’s counselors. Clearly they didn’t know Franco. The man was incredibly intelligent, dangerous in a way no amount of planning could account for, and completely irreverent.
His wife was at his side, smiling politely. Tate had met Juliette once at a dinner party hosted at Harrison Adams’ house. Juliette was Harrison’s sister in addition to Franco’s wife. She seemed a bit reserved, in that way he associated with wealthy Northeasterners, and quiet. She didn’t talk much and always deferred to her husbands.
“This is a great party,” Franco said. “Well done. All three of you. You made this look easy.”
Tate, Scarlet, and Roman shared a look. Roman raised his drink to hide his smile as Scarlet murmured a thank you. Tate practiced having no expression. He also was not going to start singing “Baby Shark.”
Damn it. Now he had it in his head. The
