Page 620 of One More Kiss

La Trinitat Nova recruits based on a candidate’s suitability to further our vision.

Freedom. Liberty. Equality.

That’s our holy trinity.

Something my father and brother seem to have forgotten since they took their oath.

They’ve become the greedy billionaires we fight to quash.

My purpose here is dual. I want to learn how my mother died and I’m determined to stop my father from anointing Ludovit as his successor. Trinity tradition dictates that accession is the automatic birthright of the eldest son. Bastard or not, that’s me. Whether my contemptible brother likes it or not, the five years I lived before him mean something.

I’m the rightful heir to the Noguera-Tomás seat in the Trinity.

“Seems you’ve been summoned,” Elisenda murmurs. I glance in the direction she’s looking to see Joaquin is still trying to catch my attention. When I return my focus to my sister, bright spots appear high in her cheeks, and she silently pleads with me to help her best friend. Her obvious distress almost gets the better of me, so I avert my gaze. As attracted as I am to Ophelia, one wrong move could spell the end of everything.

My life. Her freedom. The Trinity.

The dozens of schemes I have in place could full apart in an instant.

“Please,” she whispers. “At least think about it?”

Joaquin beckons me over again. Peeling Elisenda’s fingers off my arm, I offer her a brotherly squeeze on her wrist. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help. If I make one wrong move, Daddy Dearest will ship me back to Catalonia.”

I leave out that it will most likely occur in a body bag.

The disappointment on my sister’s face pierces my chest. If Ophelia is my heart’s desire, then Elisenda is my Achilles heel. Swallowing down the regret that blooms in the wake of her frustration, I lean closer to stop anyone overhearing me. “You need to go. The Devil is watching you.”

Elisenda whips her head around so fast that her ponytail slaps me in the face. Her gasp is barely perceptible, but I hear it. She’s made eye contact with our brother and she doesn’t like what she sees in his expression.

Stifling her anguish, Elisenda swings back around and hisses, “Ophelia has a crush on you.” When I offer her no reaction, a wrinkle of frustration forms between my sister’s eyes and she rebukes me in a louder voice, “And, I know you like her, too. Please help her.”

And with that pronouncement hanging heavy between us, my sister strides off with a swish of her heavy skirts and a haughty expression on her face, leaving me to wonder why the hell she’s coming to me for assistance.

I am no one’s Knight in shining armor.

I’m the black-hearted villain.

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