Page 1 of Stolen Faith

Chapter One

Izabel Serra looked around the room and smiled.

It had been a good night. A very good night.

When she’d first received the letter calling her to the altar last week, she’d suffered a moment of anxiety, which was understandable. After all, the letter indicated that the Grand Master had finally chosen her partners, her “death ’til we do part” spouses. Anyone would suffer a moment of “what the hell have I done?” when the reality of marrying strangers sank in.

However, the spark of panic had been brief. Because this was it. Izabel had waited well over a decade to meet her trinity, and when the stress faded away, excitement quickly took its place.

Since joining the Trinity Masters when she was just eighteen years old, she’d looked forward to this day. As a legacy, her membership had been essentially fast-tracked, thanks to a combination of advanced-placement courses at school and college classes at night. She’d had three years of a college education under her belt by the time she was eighteen. As such, neither she nor her parents had been surprised by her early invitation to join. Most legacies were initiated halfway through their college years. Izabel had gotten there quicker.

What had not been fast-tracked was Izabel’s trip to the altar. At thirty-four, her patience had been tested as her desire to move on to “the next part” grew with each passing year.

All of that wishing and wondering had ended this afternoon.

Because today, she’d met her future husbands—two husbands—and she couldn’t be more delighted. While Izabel would have been just as happy had the Grand Master given her a husband and a wife, deep inside, she’d always longed for a relationship just like the one her two dads shared with her mom.

Izabel’s gaze traveled across the room to where her handsome new husbands stood. Husband number one, Brennon Reyes, was deep in conversation with Senator Jenkins. Husband two, Rowan Greene, stood next to them, quiet, his posture resembling a soldier’s “at attention” position. She’d spent most of the evening studying them, and all of their exchanges with the guests had gone the same. Brennon doing the talking, Rowan a silent observer.

Immediately following the binding ceremony, she’d discovered that Rowan was ex-military, while Brennon was a screenwriter of some renown in Hollywood. She’d been quite impressed as Brennon rattled off a list of the movies—quite a few blockbuster hits—he had writing credits on. The three of them hadn’t had more than a couple of hours to chat before getting ready for tonight’s celebration, so apart from a brief discussion on careers and family backgrounds—during which Rowan hadn’t said much—she still knew precious little about them.

Izabel could admit to herself that she had basically thrown them to the wolves, but once she’d received her invitation to the altar, there had been no holding back her parents. They’d been anxiously awaiting this day as long as Izabel had, so when her mother insisted that they hold a celebratory dinner after the binding ceremony with close friends, Izabel hadn’t had the heart to refuse.

Fortunately, Brennon and Rowan had accepted the fact her family had organized a party for them with good grace. Well, Brennon had, insisting he loved any excuse to get dressed up and drink a bunch of champagne. Rowan had been less effusive, simply nodding and giving her a very Princess Bride-like “as you wish” response.

One thing she had learned prior to this party was that she was the only legacy in their trinity, the only one of the three who had grown up a child of Trinity Masters parents.

She couldn’t help but wonder how Brennon and Rowan had felt right after they’d received their invitations to join the oldest secret society in the United States. Obviously, they must have been shocked to discover there was an organization working in the shadows of the country, the membership driving forces in politics, finance, and culture. Membership would open doors, set them a place at the table, and give them access to resources and people others could only dream of.

And while that information would have been surprising enough, what Izabel was most curious about was how they’d reacted when they had learned about the requirements tied to becoming a member, how they’d responded upon discovering they would have to give up the right to choose their own spouses, agreeing instead to an arranged trinity marriage.

Izabel had grown up with three parents, her dads and mom embracing their polyamorous marriage. In her mind, a trinity marriage was the norm. But Rowan and Brennon hadn’t been raised that way. So what had made them agree?

She made a mental note to bring up the subject later.

Rowan caught her staring at him. The attractive man missed nothing, his gaze constantly scanning the room, as if seeking out…well…it looked to her as if he was keeping an eye out for some perceived threat. It amused her because—seriously—what kind of danger was he expecting to encounter in the private dining room of the Menton, one of the most acclaimed restaurants in Boston?

His thick dark eyebrows had been furrowed, but they rose when she gave him a quick smile, lifting her champagne glass to him. Rowan acknowledged her with a slight nod before turning his attention back to Brennon and the senator.

Izabel forced herself to stop staring at her handsome husbands, taking in the rest of the room. Harrison Adams, the dean of admissions at Harvard, and his partner, Michael, were deep in conversation with Dad, the three men golfing buddies. Price Bennett and Daddy were in the corner, no doubt talking shop as Bennett Securities provided security for all of Daddy’s businesses. Mom was holding court with several ladies, including Harrison’s wife, Alexis, Tasha Kasharin, and Charlotte Mead, all members of the Trinity Masters, who either lived in Boston or traveled to the city often. As such, Izabel frequently socialized with them at society events, fundraisers, and lunch dates.

The crowd was beginning to thin out. When her mother had first suggested a celebratory dinner, Izabel had expected a much smaller guest list. She should have known better. Her mother did nothing by half measures, and what Izabel had originally labeled an intimate gathering turned into something much grander.

To Izabel, planning a party where the identity of two of the guests of honor wouldn’t be known until the morning of—until Izabel actually met her trinity—was risky. Upon seeing how many people were here, Izabel had asked her mother what would have happened if her new fiancés hadn’t wanted to attend the party. Mother had simply stared at her with a raised brow, as if Izabel’s worry was preposterous.

Her parents had rented out the exclusive private dining room overlooking Congress Street for the evening, inviting no fewer than forty “close, personal” friends. That designation shouldn’t have surprised Izabel—mainly because it was true. Her parents had larger-than-life personalities, they’d never met a stranger, and their social circle was very, very wide. So wide, Izabel had greeted no fewer than ten of tonight’s attendees as aunt or uncle, the titles all honorary, as they weren’t really related.

It wasn’t unusual for Trinity Masters’ members to find ways to conceal the truth of their threesome relationships—a nod to societal norms—but Izabel’s parents hadn’t wanted to live their lives that way. They’d been publicly open about their relationship, about the fact that the three of them were married in their hearts and minds. Their relationship was something that continued to fascinate the tabloids even after thirty-six years of marriage, the gossip trickling down to her as well, the paparazzi dying to see if Izabel would follow in their footsteps.

Her parents had endured more than their fair share of snide comments, some made behind their backs, some right to their faces. They took it all in stride, but when she was younger, those comments hurt her. Daddy always reminded her that the world was full of judgmental people all too happy to condemn what they couldn’t understand.

Izabel had no idea how Rowan and Brennon saw their marriage playing out, but it was also on her mental list of discussion topics for the three of them. They had a month following the binding ceremony to not only get to know each other but to make their future plans as spouses. That included figuring out where to live as well as how to present themselves to the world at large. Izabel hoped they would be amenable to living their lives together out in the open, just as her parents had.

“Belle.”

Izabel turned at the sound of her childhood nickname and smiled. “Rose.” Then she noticed Rose’s husbands walking to the coat check room. “Heading out?”

Rose nodded. “I’m afraid so. There is an actual time limit on Wes’s willingness to socialize. It ran out about twenty minutes ago.”

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