Page 10 of Third Crime’s A Charm (Princes Take New York #3)

Six

W ho knew that dating could be so much fun?

For years, Truman had been too busy and had kept his flings fast and uncomplicated.

He chose men who had lives—but never wives—in other cities, who were just looking for a few days of companionship.

Donna was there as a litmus test to make sure Truman’s instincts were right.

There was little chance that Truman would get attached to or miss a man who couldn’t be decent to Donna.

“Truman! I have my own!” Matteo complained, dodging Truman’s spoon and laughing.

They were sitting on the grass, in the shade, and eating gelato.

There were Adirondack chairs for the stand’s customers but Matteo hooked his arm around Truman’s and towed him to a quieter spot.

Matteo was reclining against his chest and Truman was having fun spoon feeding him.

He had allowed Truman to feed him bits of lobster and made the sexiest sounds while they ate lunch but it was obvious that Matteo wasn’t as enamored with the gelato.

“You don’t like it?” Truman stole another taste of Matteo’s pistachio. “Yours is better. I shouldn’t have picked lemon.”

Matteo shrugged and turned in Truman’s arms. “I appreciate the thought, but we’ll get American ice cream next time.

Here, you have some under your lip.” He used his thumb to wipe it off and sucked it clean.

“Mmmm… That tastes better.” His smile was sly as he turned and wiggled his shoulders as he got comfortable again.

Two could play at that game. “Where should we go next?” he murmured against Matteo’s neck before kissing it. He lingered there, filling his senses with the smell of Matteo’s hair and skin and the feel of his warm, relaxed body in Truman’s arms.

A hand spread around Truman’s thigh and scratched as Matteo considered. “This has been lovely but I should get back to my journaling. I have a lot to reflect on while I’m here,” he added absently. “Do you think I could pass as a porter or hotel security?”

“Not for very long,” Truman said and shook his head. A man like Matteo drew every eye in the room, regardless of his attire.

“I didn’t think so either. How long until Neville gets back from the city?”

“He just left after lunch. I’m not expecting him until tomorrow afternoon at the earliest.”

Matteo’s lips tightened briefly but he gave another easy shrug. “I’ve been to the St. Regis a few times. I can sketch what I remember and work with that for now.”

“We’re not in that much of a hurry and we’re stuck here until you don’t need those sunglasses,” Truman reminded Matteo gently.

“I know and I am enjoying this,” he said with a dubious look at his cup, making Truman laugh.

He tightened his arms around Matteo, nuzzling his neck.

The goal was to be noticed being adorably in each other’s pocket, but Truman was truly enjoying their day out.

Matteo seemed to be as well, flirting and taking lots of pictures of the two of them with Truman’s phone.

He had also caught Truman off guard with a few kisses and by whispering in his ear while they were in line for gelato.

There was no doubt that they had been noticed and people were buying it, but Truman forgot that he was acting somewhere between the lobster rolls and the second gift shop.

“There’s a nice little grocery store on the way home. Why don’t we tell Donna to take the night off and pick up some steaks and dessert? I’ll grill and the three of us can drink too much wine.”

“I can think of far worse ways to spend an evening. Maybe I can talk Donna into sitting in the hammock with me,” Matteo said, once again plotting and delighting Truman.

Instead of being pretentious and shallow, Matteo was refreshingly humble and genuine behind his princely mask.

He was warm and polite with everyone but Truman was touched by how quickly Matteo had taken to Donna.

In hindsight, Truman should have predicted it, given that Matteo was raised by so many women and probably missed his mother dearly.

For whatever reason, Matteo had decided to immerse himself in his role as the object of Truman’s affections while they were out as well. Truman wasn’t in a hurry to let go of that Matteo. He was much more fun and it was easier to make amends with him when they were in public or Donna was around.

“There’s a vineyard just up the road. We could drop in for one of their tastings and you can pick some bottles to take home for Donna,” Truman suggested, his voice rising hopefully.

“Are you stalling?” Matteo scowled suspiciously. “We’ve been seen by plenty of people,” he added quietly and his lips pursed.

Truman caught Matteo’s chin and turned him.

His thumb swept over Matteo’s lips and he chuckled when they tightened.

“This drives me wild. I never have to guess if I’m in trouble.

” He wasn’t flattering Matteo. His fiery temper and passionate loyalty to his family and friends aroused Truman.

Matteo ran hot but his temper blew out fast and he was never aggressive.

He was the absolute opposite of the cool cruelty Truman had adopted from his mother and honed throughout his years of working with hardened criminals.

“Shut up,” Matteo whispered, then kissed him.

It worked. Truman stopped thinking and enjoyed the way their lips clung. They kept the kiss family-friendly but Truman’s heart was racing and he ached for more of this Matteo. He’d vanish as soon as Truman shut the bedroom door and wouldn’t return until breakfast.

“I’m not stalling. We might as well relax and enjoy ourselves while we’re waiting for Neville to get back.

You asked for a lot of intel and that takes time to gather discreetly.

And you’re much more fun and you’re so beautiful when you aren’t glaring at me.

Although, that’s beautiful too,” Truman confessed, tapping Matteo’s lips.

They curved and Truman whimpered helplessly as he kissed them. “Can you blame me for enjoying this?”

“Alright, take me to this winery.”

They rode with the top down and Truman played with Matteo’s hair and held his hand as they drove to the small winery just outside of Water Mill.

Being from Italy and Austria, countries renowned for their vineyards and wines, Matteo wasn’t likely to be impressed but he charmed everyone and bought cases of their different white wines.

They would be delivered the next morning but Matteo had two bottles in a bag between his feet to take back to Donna.

“Is it Marie?” Matteo asked when Truman parked in front of a small, trendy, local grocery store.

“Marie?” He shook his head cluelessly and leaned in for a kiss.

Matteo gave him a swat but allowed it. “Are we doing this for her? I’d understand and be on board,” he whispered.

“She’s clean. In fact, she’s the one who makes sure that everything I do is on the up and up. On paper, at least. I never tell her anything because I don’t want her to be an accomplice but I know not to touch something if it won’t make it past her. Marie won’t lose her license or let me risk mine.”

“That’s just it. You’re risking a lot. You can’t be doing it for one of your clients. You don’t care about any of them.”

“I’m not,” Truman confirmed, then hushed Matteo softly. “But it is a matter of guilt by association and I’d like to see justice served.”

“Actual justice or?—?”

“Shh! You would approve. Let’s go. I’m looking forward to making you dinner and watching Donna wrestle with the hammock.”

“It has a frame,” Matteo said, looking concerned as he unbuckled and got out.

Truman recalled the last time she had attempted to get into it and winced as he shut off the engine and opened his door. “That doesn’t really matter after her third glass. She swore she’d never touch it again but I think you can talk her into it.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” Matteo vowed, then insisted on pushing the cart once they were inside.

With his busy schedule, Truman rarely had time to buy his own groceries or cook. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed both tasks and added it to the list of reasons to reconsider dating. Of course, Truman understood that dating wouldn’t be as much fun with the men he usually chose.

He had a feeling he was dooming himself and any future prospects as Matteo made goofy faces at a baby girl in a nearby cart, making her mother laugh and blush.

“Do you think you’ll have children?” Truman asked, suddenly concerned. He wouldn’t. But Truman recalled that neither of Matteo’s older brothers’ relationships were likely to produce an heir.

“Nee!” Matteo shook his head quickly. “I love children but there are already so many and I am more of the fun uncle type than the selfless parent.”

“What about the succession? Do you think your younger brother is likely to have kids?”

Matteo’s shoulder bounced and he looked more interested in the buckets of bouquets.

“Let’s get these for Donna. I can see it for Eli.

Life—on a biological level—fascinates him and he is a surprisingly good teacher.

He has far more patience for children than adults and he has the energy of a terrier. ”

“That certainly helps,” Truman agreed.

“Not that it matters if there is an heir. Max has grandchildren who could inherit if they’re interested when the time comes.

Or the title and the House can fade away,” Matteo said with a dramatic wave, his lips curling into a wicked grin.

“I hope it does and Leo’s the last. He’s done everything he wanted.

The margraviate’s lands are protected from industrial and commercial development for at least fifty years.

Much of it’s been rewilded or is in the process.

His title was always a means to preserve as much of the environment as possible and to pressure other politicians and land owners to do more. ”

“It isn’t an act for him, is it?” Truman said with a slow shake of his head.

“Ha! You only have to know Leo for two minutes to know he is deeply concerned about the planet. He’s a very serious person. My brothers are exactly what they seem. I’m the only actor.” Matteo’s focus shifted to the fresh fruit, particularly the melons.

The strange thing was, Truman no longer believed that Matteo was pretending to be a socialist and practically penniless.

Through Neville’s sources, Truman had learned that Matteo had sold all the property he had inherited to Leo and donated the money to several London and New York charities.

Probably because his older brothers were already so active and prominent in Austrian charities and Matteo had strong ties to both cities.

During their last run, Neville had reported that Matteo had held onto one property in Austria but the estate served as a holiday retreat for orphans in foster care.

There, they could ski and ice skate in the winter or swim and ride horses in the spring and summer.

With the exception of Matteo’s wardrobe and appearance, the bulk of his annual allowance went to the estate, called Ottavia’s Haus.

His brothers were all sponsors as well and visited frequently.

The morning run had always been the ideal time for a briefing, despite Neville’s complaints.

It was how they kept Donna from hearing anything she shouldn’t and would come in handy while Matteo was at the beach house.

He wasn’t an early riser and preferred the treadmill and small gym in the beach house’s guest wing.

The more he learned, the more Truman regretted trapping Matteo.

He was desperate to know what Matteo was doing with money from the jewels he was stealing.

Neville and Truman’s best investigative accountant couldn’t find a trace of it.

Now, Truman would gladly trade the diamonds for the answer.

He doubted his mother even remembered that she had them.

Was someone else blackmailing Matteo or forcing him to do it?

That didn’t seem likely, but Truman studied Matteo and wondered if he was capable of hiding something that explosive.

It would have to be, based on how much Matteo had already stolen.

Truman shook his head inwardly, dismissing the idea.

Matteo pretended to be a playboy but aside from the stealing and a reputation for being a shameless flirt, he lived more like an altar boy.

They would have heard if Matteo had been involved in anything truly scandalous.

As if Matteo had heard his thoughts, Truman received a nudge. “What did your mother wish you to be, if she has such an aversion to attorneys?”

“I…don’t know…” Truman’s cheeks puffed out as he considered.

He’d never been asked that before and had never given the matter much thought.

His father had been a legend and his dubious connections had done more to advance Truman’s prospects in school and throughout his career than his mother’s name and money.

“Maybe…a prime minister? She said she wished Trudeau was her son once.”

“It’s a shame you were born in America, then.” Matteo gave him a pitying look. “I’m sorry,” he said but Truman smiled.

“It’s alright. I told her I wished he was my son too.”

That made Matteo laugh. He held onto Truman’s sleeve as he clutched his stomach. “No wonder she hates you. Bravo.”

“I think I’ve been sparring with that woman since I was in diapers,” Truman said dismissively, causing Matteo to become serious.

“That’s a sad way to grow up. I’m glad you had Donna.”

Truman nodded. “I never take her for granted.” They strolled in companionable silence for several moments and Truman paused at the butcher’s counter to order their steaks. But Matteo was still frowning when Truman lowered them into the cart. “What’s wrong?”

“It isn’t her, is it?” he asked and this time, Truman laughed, completely in tears.

“What could she have possibly done?”

“Thank goodness,” Matteo replied and leaned close. “I’d definitely be in if it was her.”

“I know,” Truman said sadly and steered them toward the register. “You wouldn’t do it for me but you’d be on a plane and headed his way tonight if it was for her.”

Matteo hummed in agreement, his tone also sad but his attention was fixed on the line in front of them. “I might have, if you had just asked me.”