Free Hidden Devotion by Lila Dubois Page A

he was a kid and didn’t actually know what to do next.
    “Devon, you shouldn’t be here.” Juliette appeared at Franco’s side, placing her hand on his shoulder.
    The man—Devon—dropped his gaze to Juliette’s hand. His shoulders slumped.
    “The two of you, uh, know each other?” Franco looked from Devon to Juliette.
    Juliette was smiling but her eyes were hard. She wasn’t happy this Devon guy had shown up. Franco placed his hand on top of hers. As their fingers touched, another shock of awareness went through him.
    “Yes, we do. Francisco, this is Devon Asher. Devon, this is Francisco Garcia Santiago. This is his family’s museum. Since you’re here, you might as well come in. Francisco was about to tell me a story.”
    “I was?” Francisco decided that this wasn’t an Alice-in-Wonderland situation, but rather like being in a Marquez novel.
    Devon closed the door, his gaze still lowered, the tension between him and Juliette palpable. On a hunch, Francisco looked at Devon and Juliette’s hands, checking for wedding bands. Devon wore a heavy gold ring on his right hand, but Juliette was ringless. So they weren’t married, but there was definitely something between these two—a kind of tension that usually existed between couples in a complicated or bad relationship.
    “Francisco, you were going to tell me about your grandfather’s crazy stories.” Juliette slipped her arm through his, turning him towards the gallery they’d been in.
    “That’s what you want to hear?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Juliette.” Devon’s voice was tight. He’d followed them in, but stopped in front of a display in the foyer that detailed the Garcia family legacy.
    The poster featured one of the annoying posed headshots the PR person had insisted they get and which Franco hated. This was the one of him in a suit with his arms folded, trying to look like a pillar of the community.
    “I know, Devon.” Juliette didn’t turn around or break stride, tugging Franco’s arm to keep him moving.
    “I’m sorry, but what is going on? Why are you both here?” Franco’s tolerance for weirdness had just been met. This whole day was too strange—first Juliette, then the photos, and now this guy Devon.
    “Francisco, tell me about your grandfather.”
    Franco freed his arm and turned to confront Juliette. “Why don’t you tell me why you have those photos of my great-grandfather?”
    Devon stood just behind and to the side of Juliette, like a bodyguard. She didn’t respond.
    Franco was a lot of things, but a man of infinite patience and tact was not one of them. “The two of you need to leave.”
    “Francisco, I just want to talk to you.” Juliette continued to smile softly.
    “You can come back tomorrow when the museum is open and speak with the director.”
    “But I want to talk to you .”
    “Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here? Clearly you’re looking for something.” It was a hunch, but the way Juliette’s lips tightened said he was right.
    Finally she motioned to a picture of Luis—Francisco’s grandfather—standing arm in arm with his best friend Henry. “Tell me more about them.”
    “The Smiths?”
    “Yes.”
    Franco knew he should ignore the question and make them leave, but there was a mystery here, a mystery he wanted to solve. Who was Juliette and where had she gotten those pictures? Why did she have them? How was her family connected to his? Why had this Devon guy shown up?
    Maybe he’d get some answers if he gave some. “Henry Smith and his mother Lucille were close family friends. Lucille was particularly close with Maria, Luis’s mother—my great-grandmother. Their patronage had helped the Garcia empire get off the ground. Luis had been studying to be a priest, but when Henry died in World War Two, he dropped out of the seminary and joined the army.”
    “Isn’t your father’s name Henry?” Juliette asked.
    “Yes, he was named after Henry Smith, a tribute to my