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Sebastian shot one last look at Eric before speaking to Juliette. “I figure this is the part where Franco asks if we won or lost that round.”
Juliette smiled at the thought of her husband. “Three out of four ain’t bad. And I kept the moral high ground.”
“Franco will be proud,” Sebastian said. “Devon, however, will be sad that you weren’t playing to win at any cost.”
“Oh, I still intend to win.” Juliette stopped in front of the door and raised one eyebrow at Eric.
He opened the door for her, bowing. “Grand Master.”
“Why thank you, Fleet Admiral. Join me, won’t you? It’s time to talk about how you’re going to make amends, and ensure what happened here never happens again.”
Eric sighed, following her out. “If you’re asking for sexual favors, I’m okay with that.”
“Devon’s going to shoot you.” Sebastian pulled the door closed as he exited.
The last thing Hugo heard was Juliette saying, “No, I have a better idea.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lancelot sank down in one of the chairs, trying to find a way to confess the last—biggest—secret. While Hugo assured Sylvia there’d been nothing more to tell, Lancelot hadn’t been able to make the same promise.
He’d been lying to both of them since the beginning, but it had to stop here.
Now.
Lancelot had seen the look of hope, of joy, in Hugo’s eyes when the fleet admiral mentioned marrying the three of them in order to secure Sylvia’s membership.
Eric’s reasons for extending the offer may have been based on revenge for losing Marek to the Trinity Masters, or as a bribe to get Sylvia to join, but from where Lancelot stood, the fleet admiral had handed him a dream come true.
One he couldn’t accept.
Because Sylvia and Hugo wanted Lancelot.
And he didn’t exist.
Sylvia knelt in front of him while Hugo took the seat next to him.
“What is it, Lancelot?” she asked.
He winced, hearing that name on her lips. “There’s a reason Eric sent me here, to find Alicia. One that I haven’t told you about.”
“To help Hugo while he talked to me?” Sylvia guessed.
“I mean, there’s a pretty distinct reason he chose me.”
Hugo leaned forward. “What reason?”
Lancelot rubbed his jaw wearily, trying to put all the warring emotions raging through him into those compartmentalized boxes that always helped him get the job done. Unfortunately, that ability was failing him. He couldn’t do it. Not after the past few hours.
Ever since boarding the plane for America, he’d been Lancelot, that persona wrapping itself around him like a fleece blanket in winter. He liked the man he’d become here, with them.
When Hugo looked at him, he didn’t see a cold-blooded assassin, he saw a battered knight on a bloody steed.
When Sylvia looked at him, she saw a man she could respect. Who could fulfill her wildest fantasies. Could love.
Three hours with Alicia had wiped away all trace of Lancelot.
Charlie had returned…with a vengeance.
