Page 1 of Third Crime’s A Charm (Princes Take New York #3)

One

T he plan was to get in, make a royal scene, then get out with the diamonds while everyone was still whispering about his arrival. Matteo von Hessen rarely stayed at parties and galas for more than a few minutes. Just long enough to be seen but never long enough to be a suspect.

There was one major hitch in Matteo’s plan: Truman Tennyson.

A Chicago native, the notorious attorney had recently moved to Manhattan.

Everyone who mattered knew about Truman Tennyson and Matteo had been warned to steer very clear of him.

Having worked as legal counsel to some of America’s most infamous gangsters, drug lords, and hitmen, Tennyson eventually branched out to divorce and family law.

As Muriel had put it: “You can’t hire just anyone if your spouse knows where the bodies are actually buried.

People like that hire Truman Tennyson to handle their divorce. ”

Muriel Hormsby—widow, socialite, terror, and internationally renowned gossip—was Matteo’s best source for intel about New York society but she was in Austria and no one had warned Matteo about how hot Truman Tennyson was.

He had silver-streaked black hair and bright blue eyes, making it hard for Matteo to focus on anything or anyone else in the crowded townhouse.

Tennyson had taken very good care of himself and didn’t look like he was nearly fifty.

He looked like sin in a charcoal double-breasted suit, sans tie.

Instead of slipping out onto the parlor’s smaller balcony and climbing up to the study’s terrace, Matteo lingered and pretended to enjoy the fresh air and the view.

They had traded smiles and faint nods and Matteo hoped that Tennyson was curious enough to introduce himself.

It was a foolish game for Matteo to play, given the small fortune already tucked inside the secret pocket under his coat’s lapel.

But Truman Tennyson’s imposing, demanding aura was alluring and Matteo couldn’t resist getting a closer look. Matteo waited on the balcony, hoping his host would follow.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Tennyson said as he strolled through the open French doors and offered his hand. “Truman Tennyson. I was going to play it cool and wait for someone to introduce us but I got impatient.”

“Matteo von Hessen,” he replied, laughing as he leaned against the balustrade. “Patience isn’t one of my virtues either.”

“So I’ve heard. Let me get you a drink,” Truman said, waving at a passing footman. “What will you have?”

“Bourbon on the rocks.” Matteo narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What have you heard?” he asked, admitting that he’d been warned as well.

Truman grinned as he held up two fingers and the footman hurried off.

“Your oldest brother, Leopold, is the Margrave of Hessen. You’re second in line but rumor has it that none of you want the title.

You, least of all. You’re said to be charming, yet cynical.

But you’re devoted to your family so you tow the line and do the pretty.

Looks like you’re picking up the right habits while you’re here, though. ”

“Not according to my brothers.” Matteo flashed him a wide, cheeky grin. “They think I’m becoming too American. ”

“I hope not. It isn’t every day that you get to meet an Austrian prince.”

“We’re not that rare. I know of at least four,” Matteo said with a dismissive wave, making Truman laugh.

“Oddly enough, you’re related to all of them.”

“Take my word for it, they’re not that interesting.” Matteo signaled for Truman to come closer, as if he wanted to share something secret. “And we’d all be happier if the whole damn thing imploded tomorrow.”

“Really?” Truman whispered, sounding legitimately puzzled. “Is it all the responsibilities or is it…Austria?”

“Nee! We love Austria and I would do anything for my brothers, but the title is a gimmick and a colossal pain in our collective arses,” he whispered back, causing Truman to choke before letting out a loud laugh.

“I was wondering if you were the communist. I heard one of the younger brothers was a troublemaker.”

“ That would be Elio. He’s a nightmare and has been arrested for trespassing several times. Can’t pass a building without trying to climb it or jump off of it.” Matteo shuddered and tapped on his forehead. “You’d think a genius would be more careful with this.”

“And he’s the communist?” Truman verified but Matteo shook his head.

“No, that’s me. Although, I appreciate the challenges and improbability of a purely communist society and will settle for socialism.”

Their drinks arrived and Truman thanked the footman as he passed one to Matteo. “To new friends and imploding empires,” he said and held up his glass.

“Hear, hear.” Matteo tapped his against Truman’s, then took a long sip. “God bless Kentucky,” he said with a contented sigh.

“They do a few things well down there and bourbon is definitely one of them. So, do you despise all royals or just Austria’s?” Truman asked, swaying closer and resting his hip next to Matteo’s.

“I can’t see the point of any of them. Aristocrats, oligarchs, and billionaires are all leeches. Sorry,” he said with an apologetic grimace.

“No offense taken,” Truman said, chuckling as he sipped. “I’m not a billionaire, yet, but nearly all of my clients are leeches.”

Matteo nodded, thoughtful. “I was expecting you to be scarier. Your reputation is rather sinister.”

“What do you mean I’m not scary?” Truman pouted and pointed at his perfectly trimmed and styled hair. “I thought the gray made me look more like a villain,” he said but Matteo shook his head.

“Makes you look distinguished, I’m afraid.” Matteo held Truman’s gaze as he took a drink, then stepped closer, until they were nearly nose-to-nose. “And like you might be worth the risk.”

There was another soft chuckle—a warm, spicy huff against Matteo’s lips. “Why do I get the feeling that you should come with a warning label? ‘Beautiful but dangerous!’ I imagine a lot of men have lost their heads over you.”

“Jein…” Matteo’s head rocked from side to side as he considered. “A few have but I haven’t had time for a relationship so I’ve kept it casual as much as possible,” he said, holding up his hand and his drink innocently.

It was the truth. Matteo traveled too much and his life revolved around his family.

No one would ever matter more than his brothers and Matteo didn’t think any man would want to come last. He would always drop anything and everything if Elio, Theo, or Leo needed him.

His brothers’ spouses and families, including Muriel, were a very close second.

He had all the love and support he needed and had achieved almost complete independence.

Muriel spent most of the year in Austria and had given the von Hessen brothers free use of her apartment in the Olympia.

And Theo had recently found paradise in a bowling alley in Upstate New York.

With Leo happily tucked away in Schonbühel with Jonathon and Elio at Cambridge, Matteo had never felt more free.

Why would he complicate his life with a relationship?

Matteo was reconsidering as Truman shook his head at another guest and shooed him off. “I’m busy, Don. Leave a message with Neville and I’ll get back to you on Monday.”

“That might have been important,” Matteo warned but Truman was more interested in flagging down another footman.

“Bourbon on the rocks,” he said softly, holding up two fingers before smiling at Matteo. “Not more important than you. I was bored and looking for a reason to leave before you walked in.”

“It’s your party,” Matteo noted and Truman pulled a face.

“It’s a freak show in there. Nobody’s real and they’re all here to see what the other creeps and frauds are willing to do for my protection or my money.”

Matteo’s brows jumped. He wasn’t expecting Truman to be so self-aware or aware of exactly who his clients and admirers were. “Huh. I just came to make the rounds, because I was told that ‘everyone’ would be here.”

“But unlike everyone else, you can see that they’re all freaks. You aren’t fooled by all their fake faces and fancy manners,” Truman said, wagging a finger. “That’s what makes you interesting.”

“I hope that isn’t the only thing.”

Growing up, Matteo had dreamed about visiting New York City and experiencing the magic and romance for himself.

Reality had revealed a hard, glitzy, busy city, but on Truman’s balcony, Matteo suddenly understood its romantic allure.

Overlooking the twinkling lights and Central Park, Matteo felt understood and seen as a man, instead of a glamorous oddity.

“I’m trying to be mysterious and sexy too. My older brothers are the responsible, noble ones and Eli is the rebel so I’m the dashing playboy.”

“Definitely,” Truman murmured over his drink, smiling as he stepped even closer and tapped Matteo’s cheek. “These dimples are criminal and something tells me those lips are lethal.”

“Let’s hope you’re brave enough to find out.”

Matteo wasn’t sure if he was brave enough.

Being thirty-one, Matteo only had a few relationships under his belt.

The longest had lasted almost four months and had been with an older man as well.

Matteo’s life was complicated and he had too many secrets to be a decent partner so he generally avoided dating.

He couldn’t have fast flings, though, and needed a genuine connection to feel attraction.

There was no doubting their connection and Matteo considered making some dramatic changes. He could go straight for a man like Truman and find more respectable ways to occupy his time. And something told Matteo that he’d have his hands full dating a man like Truman Tennyson.